Take the Heat

He yanked the gag free. She widened her jaw, wiggled it side to side. “Are you drunk?”

The silken caress of his chuckle enveloped her. “Had a couple shots of fortitude.”

Drinking and driving, breaking and entering, holding her hostage…he was so fucking screwed. “You could have any woman. A willing woman.” With his looks alone, he could walk into a bar and snap his fingers. “Why are you doing this?”

His mouth hovered a kiss away, their breaths swirling. “To seduce someone so unlawfully she pleads despite herself, to win her so thoroughly she won’t turn me in”—he closed his eyes, inhaled—“is the essence of my fantasies.” His eyes opened, hard and unrelenting. “I want you to share it with me, and whatever the outcome, you are worth the punishment.”

The sincerity in his words, as fucked up as they were, scrambled her convictions. She wanted to scream no. She wanted to beg yes. She didn’t know what to do.

He studied her, his eyes roaming her mouth, hair, throat, returning to her lips. His hands were planted on either side of her head, trembles skittering down his arms, and the hard tip of his cock tapped against her thigh.

The way he looked at her, the vehemence of his desire was an effective tactic. His mouth parted, and his slack bottom lip begged to be suckled. She lifted her head, her limbs shaking to close the distance. Captured in the dominating trap of his eyes, she felt altogether owned. It both scared and titillated her.

“Few things are more arousing”—he brushed his lips over hers—“than breaking the rules and smudging the lines while smiling into the narrowed stare of the law.”

She startled. Did he know who she was? She bit her lip. No, her investigation was confidential. The uncertainty dimmed, but it left a lingering fear. What would he do if he found out?

He shifted to kneel between her legs, his muscular thighs sliding beneath her spread ones. The side of his mouth kicked up as he gripped his cock and began to stroke. With his eyes on hers, the speed of his stroking accelerated.

Her skin quivered, yearning to be beneath the hard, desperate rub of that hand, at the center of his attention. The more he stroked, the shorter and tighter the movement became. His gaze flitted between her face and the apex of her thighs, lingering longer and longer on the latter. She absorbed the heat in his expression. She wanted him to fall over her, sink between her folds, and thrust his length to the root. Her pussy squeezed, her hips shifting up.

They stared at one another, panting. The desire in his eyes swept a trail of fire to her womb, electrifying every nerve ending in its path. “I get off on you watching me, Joni.” Ragged breaths tumbled from his lips. “Do you like what you see?”

“You’re an exhibitionist.” And damn it, her breathy response gave him his answer.

“Just horny, Joni.” His abs contracted as his hips thrust against his hand. The corner of his mouth pulled up. “You and your labels.”

Gorgeous. Seductive. Unlawful. He vibrated with labels. The twisting and compressing of his fist and the beauty and raw power of his strong body nearing climax propelled her pelvis into a rocking motion.

All that toned flesh slick with sweat, his chest and abs flexing and straining for release built an explosive pressure in her core. She wanted him, but if she begged him, what part would she be playing in his twisted game? What would she write in her report? He broke into her room, tied her up, and she begged him to fuck her? She would lose her job.

His mouth hung open, gasping. He jerked his fist up and down along his cock and caught his forward lean with a hand beside her hip. Groaning, he gave himself the relief he so desperately needed. She moaned with him as he pumped stream after stream of warm come on her belly.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body humming for her own release.

“Hey, man.” At the sound of his voice, her eyes flew open. Phone to his ear, he shoved the towel back in her mouth.

What the hell? Her shocked glare was a wasted effort as he paced toward the door, muscles flexing in his tight ass. “We’re ready.” He disconnected and tossed the phone on a nearby table.

Ice shot through her veins. Was someone coming to the room? She twisted and writhed as the bastard kept his back to her.

A few minutes later, he opened the door. A handsome Hispanic man strode through, brown eyes as bright as his smile. Dev shook his hand and led him into the room.

A drug dealer? Male prostitute? Hired hit man? A tumult of nerves stiffened the hairs on her arms.

The man stripped his clothes on the way to the bed. Waxed, oiled, and toned, his dark skin glistened in the lamplight. A male prostitute.

She tried to close her legs. Of course, she fucking couldn’t. She should’ve screamed when she had the chance. Her heart rate doubled, and her breaths rushed loud and wet through her nose.

“Do you know who this is, Joni?” Dev strode past him, unabashed in his nudity, his cock hardening again.

She shook her head, pretending that her gaping, soaked pussy wasn’t broadcasting fuck me to the too-crowded room of naked men.

The stranger dropped to his knees beside the bed and smirked. “I’m Agent Manuel Garcia. Sorry I’m late.”

She stopped breathing, her head spinning with objections. No no no. He was lying.

Dev ran a finger over the arch of her foot, drawing her attention