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Still, if this is my only chance to get him alone, you’d better believe I’ll make the most of it. Wobbling around on the uneven sand, I throw my arms around the rogue agent’s neck, grinning when he blinks in surprise. For all his muscles and knives and killer instincts, it’s still so easy to take him off guard.
“Betty,” he says, and it sounds like a warning.
Like a dare.
I rock up onto my toes and kiss him hard, sealing our bodies together all the way down. The hard line of River’s cock presses against my stomach, but he doesn’t rut against me or anything. Doesn’t tug my hand down there. He’s too busy gripping my waist, kissing me back like a starving man. Too busy groaning, low and deep, like the earth rumbling near the volcano.
I come up for breath, then dive right back in, head swimming.
His lips taste like salt.
Slam. Slam. Slam.With his heart beating that hard, so rough I can feel it, I’m surprised he doesn’t crack a rib. River’s fingers dig into my waist, hard enough to bruise, but I don’t mind. I’m desperate for this too.
If this whole caper has taught me anything, it’s that I could die any minute. Any of us could. And I’m not going out without feeling this man against me first—without rolling around with him on the silver-tinted sand.
“Need to keep watch,” River mutters, tearing his mouth away with clear reluctance. So duty-bound, even now. I trail open-mouthed kisses down his throat, tongue rasping against the short beard he’s grown since I saw him last.
Guess there’s not much point shaving in the jungle. His hair is longer too, curling around his ears.
He looks wilder than ever. I love it.
“That’s okay,” I say, sinking toward my knees, but River catches my elbow with a pained expression. As he drags me back to stand, his voice is stern.
“After everything I’ve put you through? Absolutely not, Betty. We’re not doing that.”
And I start to argue, because it’s not like some freaking hardship, Iwantto go to my knees for him—but River guides me around, then nudges me down to lay on the beach. He arranges me with my head pointed toward the hidden base camp, then follows me down, knees thunking against the sand. When he hunkers over me, those shoulders seem extra broad.
As he presses my thighs apart, River’s teeth flash white in the moonlight.
“Try to keep it quiet, sweetheart.”
Eyes fixed on the jungle behind me, River lowers down, beard rasping against my inner thighs. His breath tickles against my clit, and I clap a hand over my mouth, choking back a moan.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Beach head.Beachhead.
I’ve never had anyone down there before, never hosted a fella between my thighs, and now Agent River Dawes is getting up close and personal with my bits? It’s not like the evil mercenaries let me bring a razor and shaving cream here! And I just dunked in the sea, damn it. There’s black sand crusted over my ass. I’m not prepared.
And yet…
“So fucking sweet,” River growls, licking a long stripe up my slit. He’s getting right in there, beard scraping against my thighs, nose rubbing on my clit. “You taste so fucking good, Betty.”
I highly doubt that, but I’m not about to argue—especially when River scoops both hands under my ass and lifts me, tilting me up to his mouth. He feasts on me, breath hot, tongue probing, eyes fixed on the darkness behind me the whole time.
“Sh-shit.” My hands burrow into the sand, squeezing two fistfuls until my knuckles creak. Each lap of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth, sends hot and cold shivers racing over my body. And we’re in danger, naked on this beach and so exposed, but I must have a screw loose in my brain because somehow that makes me even wetter. I whimper and squirm.
Danger.
It’s that same giddy thrill I got when I first laid eyes on River. The same rush of toe-curling adrenaline. Hey, some people race sports cars; others skydive out of planes.
Me? Guess I spread my legs for a half-feral rogue agent under the moonlight. I win.
“So perfect,” River mutters, the words vibrating through my clit, though he sounds kinda mad about it. His grip is harsh on my ass, squeezing me like his personal stress ball. “Betty, you’re so fucking perfect. Don’t think I can keep away.”
Um…good!
