Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender. Cara Summers

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      It was the heat that hit him first. In that split second before his lips had touched hers, he’d seen the flame light in her eyes. But the shock of it as it shot through his body in an explosive rush surprised him. He thought of the wildfires he’d seen as a child—the kind that devoured everything in their path. Only this one left a hard, unrelenting need in its wake.

      The second surprise was her taste. Oh, it was sweet at first, but that was only the first layer of flavor. Beneath that, he tasted heat and spice. What other flavors would he find?

      When she nipped at his bottom lip, another arrow of heat shot through him. He ran his hands down her body and drove his tongue deeper. And all the time he marveled that her mouth, her tongue, her teeth were every bit as aggressive as his. He’d never been so aware of a woman before. Of those small sounds she made when he nipped at her bottom lip, or rubbed his thumb over her nipple.

      Her skin was smooth and hot and growing damp beneath his hands. He wanted to taste every inch of it. Her body was small and supple and strong. He wanted it beneath his, bucking and straining.

      And he could have her. She didn’t seem to believe in holding anything back. Her hands were racing over him—over his shoulders, down his arms—just as his were exploring her. He felt them slide beneath his jacket and move down his back to knead the muscles at the base of his spine. It wasn’t enough, not nearly. He wanted the pressure of those fingers, the scrape of those nails, on his bare skin.

      He wanted her. One kiss was not going to be enough. He wasn’t sure that anything would be enough to stop the ache inside of him. He had to have her. pImages** flashed through his mind, of driving himself into her on some moonlit beach while waves pounded on the shore. Of carrying her to the nearby bench and letting her ride him. Or merely opening his zipper, then lifting her and taking her against the mirror where they stood. His hands moved down to cup her buttocks and pull her up. He said her name, which turned into a groan, when she wrapped her legs around him. Then he very nearly sank to his knees when she pressed her heat against his and began to rub against him.

      Slamming one hand against the mirror to steady himself, he dragged his mouth free and tried to think. First he had to breathe. The sudden rush of air burned his lungs. There were reasons why he shouldn’t do this. Couldn’t do this. Then he made the mistake of looking at her. Her lips were moist and parted, still swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were huge and the deep golden color was misted. He wanted—no, he needed—to see what those eyes would look like when he entered her and filled her. He leaned forward and took her mouth with his again.

      Rory sank into the kiss, eager to drown herself in it, in him again. There was a greed in him that matched her own. Never had her fantasies been this sharp, this real. Never in her wildest imaginings could she have conjured up the sensations shooting through her. There was such heat—glorious waves of it. And each movement of his hands, of his tongue, seemed to throw fuel on the fire. She’d known hunger before but never one this desperate, this enormous.

      His taste—she couldn’t get enough of it. There were so many flavors, each one more unique, more secret, more dangerous than the last. She dragged her mouth from his and sank her teeth into his shoulder. His moan sent little explosions of pleasure through her. She was torn between twin desires—she wanted to devour him whole and she wanted to savor one delicious body part at a time.

      His hands. Everywhere they pressed and molded, her skin burned, then itched to be burned again. She felt the pressure of each finger and that hard, wide palm as he ran his hands down her sides and slipped his fingers beneath the lacy band at her waist. Then he was gripping her buttocks with both hands, kneading her flesh and pressing her closer until the hard length of him was pushed flush against her. She arched her body, straining against him as everything tightened inside of her. She arched again, but it wasn’t enough. She had to—

      “I want you.” His voice was a rough whisper in her ear.

      “Yes.” She wasn’t sure she could survive without him.

      “Right now. I want to be inside of you. Are you protected?”

      “Hmm?” She tried to shake her head to clear it.

      “Are you on the pill?”

      “Yes,” she said as the words finally penetrated. “Yes. Hurry.”

      Listening to the three words, Hunter felt something inside of him snap. He let her down so that he could free himself from his jeans. Then he pushed aside the lacy triangle of the thong and pulled her close again as he guided himself into her. But it wasn’t enough. Gripping her hips, he drew her even closer, and then with a hard thrust of his hips, he sank deeper. He could feel her stretch, as he made a place for himself in her slick, hot core. His climax immediately began to build inside of him.

      Drawing in a quick breath, he tried to maintain some control, but it was no use once she began to move. Digging his fingers into her hips, he thrust into her, harder and faster, driving her, driving himself until he surrendered to the hot, dark pleasure.

      When he could think again and breathe again, he was lying beside her on the floor of the dressing room. He wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten there, nor was he sure how long they might have been lying there when his cell phone rang.

      Swearing, he unfastened her arms from around his neck and levered himself up so that he could take the call. “What is it?”

      “There’s been…sir…”

      “What is it, Michael?” Hunter frowned. Michael Banks was usually cool and unflappable, but he barely recognized his executive assistant’s voice.

      “A bomb.”

      “What?”

      “A bomb was delivered to your suite.”

      RORY STILL WASN’T SURE she could move. Her body had never felt so free, so relaxed, so pleasured. But the Terminator was already getting to his feet and moving away from her. She wanted him back down beside her. Without him, she suddenly felt cold. The chill grew worse when he scowled at whatever news he was getting. She couldn’t yet separate what he was saying into words, but when she sat up, she could feel the hard floor of the dressing room under her bottom. She figured her brain cells were beginning to function again because the analytical side of her mind was beginning to realize what had just happened.

      She’d just made love with a complete stranger in a dressing room of a ritzy lingerie shop. Well, maybe he wasn’t a complete stranger. But when she’d made up her fantasy man, she certainly hadn’t expected him to walk right into her life.

      It was the kind of thing that happened in movies—or in hot, steamy romance novels. In real life, people didn’t really make love to strangers in the dressing rooms of fancy lingerie shops.

      But she had. And she wanted to do it again. Astonishment warred with the hot lick of desire that was fanning itself to life again. She had dared to do something she’d never done before.

      And she’d liked it very much.

      “Are you and Alex and Ms. Malinowitz all right?”

      Rory felt a little ribbon of relief roll through her system. She could make out what he was saying now. And she knew who Ms. Malinowitz was. In another minute she’d be back to her old self. And then she’d figure out what to do next.

      Chemistry, a little voice at the СКАЧАТЬ