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He took her in one swift thrust, burying himself deep inside.
Her channel contracted around him, holding him there as he fought to keep from coming.
“Damn,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
“What?”
“Protection.” He pulled free, dashed into the bedroom and returned with the last of the strip of condoms.
She took it from him, her breathing ragged, hands shaking as she tore open the packet. With both hands, she rolled it over his thick shaft all the way to the base, fondling his balls as an added bonus. Then her hands were on his hips again.
He was inside her in a second, scooping her off the counter.
Breely wrapped her legs around him as he stepped into the shower, positioning them under the warm spray.
He let the water soak them, rivulets running over their heads, shoulders and backs. Then he turned, pressing her back to the tile wall.
She braced her arms on his shoulders as he pumped in and out of her, increasing the pace and intensity with each thrust until he was on fire inside, the flame rising, jettisoning him over the edge.
The force of his release had him pulsing inside her for several long, delicious moments. As his heartbeat slowed, he lifted her off him and stood her on her feet, holding her in his arms until he could breathe normally again.
“You are amazing,” he said, resting his forehead against hers.
“Until you, I thought orgasms were all hype.” She laughed. “Boy, was I wrong.” Breely squirted soap into her hands, built up a lather and spread it over his chest.
He armed himself with his own suds and treated her to the same. Soon they were covered in bubbles, laughing and playing beneath the now-tepid spray.
Moe was rinsing Breely’s hair when loud banging sounded on the door to the room. They’d left the bathroom door open and heard it clearly.
“What the hell?” Moe shut off the water and reached for a towel.
Before he could hand it to Breely and wrap one around himself, the door burst open, and a tall man strode in, his face a mask of anger.
He marched up to Moe, towering over him. “What have you done with my daughter?”
Breely stepped up beside him on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, wrapping a towel around her naked body. She lifted her chin and glared at the big man. “Daddy, what gives you the right to barge into this hotel room?”
“The US Marshalls, FBI, Denver police and my name on your birth certificate give me the goddamn right to look out for the welfare of my only child. Especially when she has been kidnapped and taken across state lines.” He tipped his head toward Moe. “Arrest this man.”
Breely stood toe-to-toe with her father, a clear foot shorter, dripping wet and barefooted. And she was fierce. Her green eyes flashed. Her chin jutted out. Despite her diminutive stature, she was a Valkyrie ready to bring down the wrath of the gods on her father. “On what charges?” she demanded.
“Kidnapping, assault…” Brantt’s gaze swept over Breely in her towel and Moe, who’d wrapped a terrycloth swath around his waist, “and rape.”
The Denver police officers pushed past Brantt and grabbed Moe’s arms.
He stood tall, holding onto his towel and pride. Resistance would only give the officers a reason to hurt him. The truth would come out, he’d be released, and they would all laugh about the misunderstanding over a beer.
The rage on Brantt’s face told a different story. An outcome that could be influenced by wealth and status.
Still, Moe didn’t fight the police officers. “At least let me put on a pair of pants,” he reasoned in a clear, calm tone. No attitude, no sarcasm. No reason to hit him with a stun gun or pin him to the ground. If the situation didn’t improve quickly, Moe would ride it out until he could place a call to Stone and Hank. They had connections. Hopefully, their connections had as much pull as Robert Brantt’s.
“This is insane.” Breely’s stepped closer to her father and turned those compelling green eyes up at him, her eyebrows dipping low. “Daddy, Moe didn’t kidnap me. He rescued me from kidnappers who attacked me in Bozeman. If you want to arrest someone, find and arrest them before they make another attempt.”
“If this man didn’t kidnap you, why did he abscond with you and fly you all the way to Denver?” Brantt glared at Moe. “He’s either going to hold you for ransom, or he’s going to sell you into the sex trade.”
“That’s not what’s happening here,” she said, her tone evening out, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I’m going to get dressed.” She pointed to the police officers. “You’re not going anywhere with that man until we get this straightened out.”
Breely marched into the bedroom and grabbed the black T-shirt and Moe’s jeans.
