Midnight Games: A Killer Instincts Novel (19 page)

Trevor ran his hands over her curvy body, groaning in frustration when he encountered the lacy waistband of her thong. “Now you’re the one wearing too many clothes,” he muttered.

He grabbed the band of fabric and ripped it off her.

Isabel’s jaw dropped. “Those were two-hundred-dollar panties. I hope you realize that.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Nope. I told you, Valerie only buys the best.”

“Well, tell Valerie I’ll buy her a new pair. Right now I’m more concerned about making Isabel feel very, very good.”

Her eyelashes fluttered teasingly. “Wait—how good?”

“
Very
good.”

Grinning, he reached behind her to undo her bra, then threw it aside and feasted his eyes on her bare breasts.

Perfection. There was no other word to describe her, no other word that could do her justice. Her breasts were so round, so full, tipped by dusky pink nipples that puckered under his intense scrutiny. His gaze moved to the juncture of her thighs, to her bare mound and perfect pink slit that made his mouth water.

Fuck, he had to taste her. He didn’t care that a fire of impatience was burning in his groin or that his cock was pleading for relief. He needed to put his mouth all over this woman.

Now.

Isabel gasped as his mouth took possession of one rigid nipple. While he sucked on the pearly bud, his hand cupped her other breast. Squeezing, kneading, pinching. The soft mewling sounds she made drove him absolutely crazy.

Groaning, he continued to play with her breasts and did his best to ignore the storm of lust raging inside him.

The caveman in him wanted to be set loose. He wanted to thrust her legs apart, plunge inside her, and fuck her so hard neither of them would be able to walk properly for days.

But the gentleman in him overruled the caveman. This was
Isabel
, damn it. He’d been fighting this attraction for a year, struggling with it, berating himself for it.

Well, no more. He wanted Isabel Roma more than he wanted his next breath, but he wouldn’t take her until he succeeded in making her feel that same wild and irrational need he’d been feeling since the day they’d met.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” he murmured when she began to move her hips restlessly.

“Uh-huh.”

The heat in her eyes stole his breath. He flicked his tongue over one beaded nipple, eliciting another sexy moan. Isabel’s fingernails gouged his shoulders, bringing little stings of pain. He fucking loved it. So much that his cock thickened to a level of hardness he hadn’t known possible. His erection was an iron spike, throbbing, pulsing, yelling for him to do something to ease the pressure.

He once again ignored the persistent demand for release and lavished more attention on Isabel’s perfect breasts. His stubble left red splotches on her delicate skin, making his inner gentleman wince in shame and that dastardly caveman growl with satisfaction.
His.
This woman was fucking his.

As his heart hammered out a reckless rhythm, he kissed his way down her body until he reached the wet paradise between her legs. She jerked the moment his mouth fastened on her clit, and he quickly braced his hands on her thighs to keep her still. Her muscles quivered beneath his palms, her clit pulsing against his tongue.

“I . . .” She sucked in a breath. “I don’t know if . . .”

He glanced up as she trailed off, but he was unable to decipher her expression. “You don’t know if what?”

“Nothing,” she said after a beat. “I lost my train of thought.”

He arched a brow. “Permission to continue?”

She let out a wheezy laugh. “Permission granted.”

Over the next ten minutes, he became his own hero, because damn, his herculean effort to go slow deserved to be included in the history books. Somehow, despite the roaring of his pulse and the flames of hunger devouring his body, he managed to drag out Isabel’s pleasure until she was begging for relief.

He licked her like an ice-cream cone, drowning in her taste, her scent,
her
. When he pushed two fingers inside her and sucked hard on her clit, her hands came down to tangle in his hair, to hold him in place. He could tell what she liked based on her soft moans and sweet little gasps, and it wasn’t long before he felt her entire body tense.

“Oh
God
.” Her voice was squeaky, laced with both delight and surprise, and then she was coming, nearly pulling his hair out by the roots as she rocked into his mouth and freely took the pleasure he offered.

“I want you inside me,” she burst out, even as she continued to tremble and moan from the orgasm.

Nothing short of dying could have stopped him from donning a condom and climbing up her body. As he positioned himself between her thighs, she gazed up at him almost reverently, as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Before he could make sense of it, she cupped his cheeks and brought his head down for a kiss.

He longed to feel those warm hands encircling his cock, but he was too impatient. Too desperate and greedy. He plunged inside with one hard stroke and found her so tight he almost passed out from the sheer pleasure of it. Her pussy clutched him like a hot fist, and sweet mother, it felt so good he never wanted to leave her.

But he had to. He had to move.

Christ, he
needed
to move.

Trevor pulled back his hips and withdrew, then thrust right back in, making them both groan.

Isabel’s hands slid down to grip his ass. Her nails dug into his flesh. “More. I need more.”

“I’m trying to make it last.” His muscles knotted, throbbed from the strained effort it took to try to pace himself.

“It’s not about lasting. It’s about enjoying.” Her breathy words heated his neck and then she was kissing him there, unleashing an explosion of shivers.

“Trust me, I’m enjoying,” he choked out.

“Me too.” Passion flared in her green eyes. “But I’d enjoy it more if you
moved
, damn it!”

With a strangled laugh, he said good-bye to slow and gave the woman what she wanted. He drove into her over and over again, and she met him thrust for thrust with the lift of her hips.

Trevor’s pulse raced, his mind going to that blissful place where nothing existed but pure and utter ecstasy. It had been too long for him, and Christ, how he’d missed this. The sense of connection and belonging, the all-consuming pleasure.

Before long he was hit by an orgasm that rivaled a category five hurricane. It seized his balls and seared a path through his body, so powerful it brought black spots to his eyes. Isabel’s answering cry of pleasure stoked his own, bringing a fresh rush of incredible heat that vibrated in his blood until he was reduced to a panting, sweaty mess drained of two years’ worth of bottled-up passion.

As he collapsed on top of her, she stroked his back and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “You okay?”

He made an unintelligible sound and held her tighter.

She laughed softly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

•   •   •

Noelle found D on the balcony of the men’s suite. He was alone, standing at the railing with his black-eyed gaze focused on the cityscape.

He didn’t turn around when she stepped outside, but his sardonic chuckle revealed he knew who’d joined him. “Careful. People will start to wonder.”

“Do you care?”

“No.”

“Good. Neither do I.”

In fact, she’d stopped caring a long time ago what people thought of her.

A bitch. A shrew. Cold, calculating, evil.

Whatever. Let them talk. And let them fear her. If she
had
to evoke some sort of emotion from others, she’d prefer it be terror.

“Give me a smoke,” she ordered.

As D shoved a hand in his back pocket in search of his cigarette pack, Noelle’s attention shifted to his taut ass, hugged oh so nicely by his cargo pants. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on that sculpted body of his. He was spectacular.

Smoking together had become a habit since D and his men had shown up at her ranch. They didn’t speak much—talking wasn’t something either of them excelled at—but tonight Noelle found herself saying more than usual.

“Callaghan’s getting laid,” she remarked.

D took a deep pull of his smoke. “About time. You jealous, baby?”

“I don’t get jealous, and I don’t want Callaghan.”

“Yet you’ve been toying with him since we joined forces, and don’t think anyone has forgotten about that special favor you demanded of him.” D chuckled. “Have you decided what it’ll be?”

“Not yet.”

She blew a cloud of smoke into the night. It was chilly out, the wind packing a frigid bite, and she wrapped the two halves of her long black sweater tighter around her.

“Something’s bothering me,” she said.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She felt D’s piercing gaze on her, but she didn’t turn to meet his eyes. Lately, he’d been watching her far too often for her liking. Constantly searching and studying, as if he was trying to delve into her psyche and make sense of her, find out what made her tick.

He needn’t waste his time, though. Her secrets were buried so deep they may as well be in a bottomless abyss, forever out of reach to anyone but her.

“Meiro. I can’t figure him out.” She slanted her head. “Did you read his file?”

D nodded.

“Did you notice anything odd about it?”

“No pictures,” he said curtly.

It didn’t surprise her that his naturally suspicious brain had locked in on the same detail—or lack thereof—that had given her concern.

“No pictures,” she echoed. “And it’s not like he was raised by wolves—he grew up in Lisbon, for fuck’s sake. There should be school photos, driver’s license and passport photos, but there’s no photographic record of him prior to the age of thirty, and even then, Paige only found that one picture from the charity gala in Madrid. It’s like the son of a bitch appeared out of thin air.”

D shrugged. “Dude must have a shady past—that’s for sure.” He paused. “Has Reilly been in touch?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have anything we can use. He found out Lassiter’s finances and records were handled by a business manager down in Florida—Sean’s trying to get his hands on the man’s paperwork, but it’ll take some time.”

“What about the other Reilly? The one in D.C.?”

“Oliver’s got zilch. Wherever Jim went and whoever he talked to remains a big fucking mystery. And so is Jim’s connection to Meiro.”

As usual, Jim’s name got stuck in her throat like a piece of rotten food. She showed no sign of it, though. Her feelings about Jim Morgan had been banished to the abyss right along with her secrets.

As the image of Jim’s intense blue eyes flashed in her mind, a rush of hot anger wrapped around her insides and made her stomach burn. She still remembered the first time she’d seen those magnificent eyes, how they’d hypnotized her, lured her in the way a flame drew a moth.

She had to wonder, were moths capable of acknowledging their mistake before being burned alive, or did they leave the world as oblivious as they’d entered it?

“Don’t you look pensive.”

D’s mocking voice jolted her back to the present. She shot him a sideways glance and swept her gaze over him. His black muscle shirt clung to each and every ripple of his chest. Razor-sharp stubble slashed his jaw, making him appear even more menacing than usual.

“You know, one of the first men I ever killed looked a lot like you,” she mused.

“Yeah?” D sounded bored.

“Yeah. He was French. No, Czech. Right, it was Prague.”

“Private contract?”

“Government.”

D’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Which government?”

She shrugged.

“Interesting. So you’re telling me that at one point in time, a government agency actually employed a crazy bitch like you?”

She had to laugh. “Shocking, ain’t it?”

“I’m curious about something else—that number you have for Morgan, the one you used to leave him a message, where’d you get it?”

Her hands nearly curled into fists before she caught herself. “Just a number I had lying around.”

“I’m sure.”

“And I’m bored.” She stepped away from the railing, her lips tightening in frustration. “I don’t like that we still have so many questions about Meiro.”

“Well, maybe when Blondie finishes making Trev come,” D said in a disparaging tone, “she can go back to work and get us some fucking answers.”

•   •   •

“I should go,” Isabel murmured, but even she could hear the complete lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

Who was she kidding? The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was disentangle herself from Trevor’s embrace and return to her empty suite at the Crystal Palace.

Two orgasms.

She’d had
two
honest-to-God orgasms tonight, all thanks to this man. When the first waves of release had swelled inside her, she’d fought hard not to burst into tears of stunned joy. A part of her wondered if she’d hallucinated those earth-shattering orgasms, but her sated body said otherwise.

“Uh-uh. You’re not going anywhere yet.” His arm tightened around her shoulders, keeping her in place.

Smiling, she rested her head on his bare chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear. His body was so warm, his presence unbelievably comforting.

But even as she reveled in the extraordinary way he made her feel, she recognized that she was making a mistake. Instead of pushing him away, she kept pulling him closer and closer.

She really had to stop doing that, damn it.

Tomorrow
, said the sleepy voice in her head.

Yeah, that was a much better idea. Tomorrow she’d re-arm herself against Trevor’s magnetism.

Tonight she would simply close her eyes and enjoy this feeling of pure contentedness.

“So who was
your
first time with?” she heard herself ask.

“Sara Malkovitz.” Trevor didn’t even have to think about it, and to Isabel, that said a lot about his character.

“Sara Malkovitz. Interesting. High school girlfriend?”

“Yep. We lost our virginity to each other in junior year.” His husky chuckle vibrated in his chest. “It was a total disaster, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I rocked it.”