Page 22 of Dangerous Temptation

‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he panted as he pistoned in and out of her. He wanted to go fast. He wanted to ram deep, but the sensual pace was exquisite. Heart-grabbing. Watching her rock back to take him and seeing his erection disappear into her was making his teeth ache.

His sexy little spy. Had she intended to let it go this far?

She wasn’t used to taking a man this way, he could tell. Her movements were inquisitive and tentative, but she liked being taken from behind. Her body was becoming looser with each deep thrust. Her hips were opening, and her breaths were panting.

He cupped her breast and pinched her nipple tight. She let out a sharp, pleasure-ridden cry.

Off in the distance, a screech owl replied.

The other corner of the blanket hit the deck, and they were one with nature.

‘Oooh,’ she gasped. ‘I can’t take it much longer.’

‘Yes, you can.’

He had no intention of rushing this.

And so they fucked. On and on.

With the sun spilling over them, Alex’s body warmed. His muscles strained, and his skin became slick. Elena’s hands were white around the cool railing, and the muscles in her legs were defined clearly as she held herself up on tiptoe.

They’d found their position, and they’d created a rhythm.

He moved inside her hot, clinging depths until the sun had fully risen. Blinding rays reflected off the edge of the lake and he came.

It wasn’t cataclysmic, and it wasn’t ferocious.

It was like water, bubbling up in a stream and tumbling over a waterfall.

As he closed his eyes and felt her body squeeze around the most intimate part of him, he felt like he was falling. Free-falling endlessly to somewhere filled with light, warmth and security.

‘Alex?’

The tremulous question in her voice made him open his eyes. His body felt like it had just come out of a sauna, but hers was shaking. He pulled out of her carefully, but was taken aback when she turned into his arms. Burying her face against his chest, she clung tight.

He swept his hand under the curtain of her hair and cupped the back of her head. ‘Elena?’

Her eyes were deep and dewy as she looked up at him, and her expression cut right through his chest. Oh, God. He’d hurt her. She hadn’t wanted it as much as he thought she had. She was about to cry. ‘Damn, babe, I’m so –’

She shocked the hell out of him when she went up on tiptoe and cupped his face. His stubble rasped as she pulled him down for an insane, hot-blooded kiss.

It wiped out his thoughts, his plans. Hell, it even kicked out his own name.

She timidly pressed her tongue into his mouth, and his knees buckled. Reaching around her, he caught the balcony railing for support. Leaning into her, he let her do whatever the hell she wanted to do to him.

In the end, it was just a kiss – in the way that Mount Vesuvius was just a volcano.

When she pulled back, Alex looked at her blankly. There was dampness on her cheeks. She was crying, but it wasn’t tears of pain or sadness.

It knocked the arrogance right out of him. Nobody was dominating anyone here.

‘You’re more than dangerous,’ he said gruffly, ‘you’re lethal.’

She smiled tremulously, but then wrapped her arms around his middle and cuddled close.

He kissed the top of her head and stroked her back.

She shivered again. Without the heat of an orgasm blasting through him, he realised how chilly it truly was. The sun might have lit up the sky for a while, but the temperature still wasn’t conducive to buck-nakedness.

Stooping, he swept up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders before lifting her in his arms. She weighed about as much as his briefcase, or so it seemed.

He stepped into the slippers she’d left behind. Cold feet hadn’t been a problem earlier, but right now he could hardly feel his toes.

He carried her back to the bedroom and closed the sliding glass door behind them. He laid her on the mussed sheets, then climbed in after her. The blanket and comforter were bunched up near their feet. He spread the pile over them and waited for their body heat to radiate.

‘Alex?’

‘Hm?’ He’d found a comfortable spot on the pillow and he tugged her practically on top of him. He was growing sleepy again. Sleep and sex with her could become addictive, despite the cost. This time, though, he’d make sure she didn’t leave the bed without him knowing.

‘Was it bad in prison?’

He went still. Bad? He’d been locked up, his free will taken away.

He’d been lumped in with murderers, drug dealers and wife-beaters.

He’d walked away from that place, swearing not to look back, yet it had followed him into locked rooms and into his sleep – or it had until she’d entered his bed. ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’

Her gaze dropped. She laid her hand against his chest and her thumb traced the edge of his pec. ‘What had you planned on doing when you got here? Alone in this big, gaping house? I mean, if you hadn’t found me?’

He threaded his fingers through her hair. That was treacherous ground, too.

He looked into her face. Where was she going with this? ‘Rage,’ he admitted. ‘And plan.’

Her hand stopped caressing his chest and hovered right over his heart. ‘Plan what?’

He schooled his face. ‘It doesn’t matter. You were here.’

Her eyelashes fluttered and she lifted that doe-eyed gaze to pin him. She watched him for a long moment. ‘Don’t make me regret trusting you,’ she finally whispered.

A muscle worked in his jaw, but he said nothing.

Because that was a promise he couldn’t make. Not when he couldn’t trust her.