All Tied Up

Nicole quivered with the impact, her body tensing with the onset of release—a release that became so intense, she hurt with the pleasure of it. He worked her through the orgasm, his fingers, tongue and hand taking her higher and higher…then bringing her to slow, sweet bliss.

When eventually Nicole stilled, Constantine’s fingers remained between her legs, and she knew she should be embarrassed. Instead, she stared up at him, dumbfounded by how lost she’d become in this man, this stranger. How easily he’d made her forget her surroundings. Forget her life. Forget the past and even the present.

Nicole had delved into some fairly kinky, and quite agreeable, places with her ex. But never, ever had she felt removed from the world. Never had she just experienced the pleasure as an escape. Always before, she’d felt…detached—like a spectator who watched from outside the scene.

This was new territory, and Nicole didn’t even know how to react.

Constantine eased her clothes back into place and then smoothed her hair down, his touch gentle, his expression unreadable. Maybe even a bit dark. He drew a deep breath, and then squeezed his eyes shut. One second. Two.

His lashes lifted. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, confused.

“I have to go,” he said, and without another word, he popped out of the seat and left.

Nicole stared after him, stunned.

Had he really just gotten up and left? Simply given her an orgasm and then said goodbye?

***

CONSTANTINE STRADDLED his motorcycle and kick-started the engine, beyond ready to feel the bike’s speed beneath him. He’d been a fool to take things so far with Nicole, not walking away the minute he’d ruled out foul play from her agenda. But no. He’d stayed. Drawn into her presence, into his attraction to the woman, he’d stayed.

For some crazy reason, he couldn’t help himself. Seeing her so hot for him, so eager to be pleased, had driven him to the edge.

“Chingado,” he cursed, and added a few other Spanish adjectives under his breath.

He’d done what he had to, Constantine told himself, trying to feel better about his actions. Survival demanded desperate moves. Surely, she’d understand. Nicole had studied the Alvarez case. She knew how vicious, even poisonous, the man could be.

Shaking his head, Constantine laughed, but without humor. Who was he fooling? He’d stayed because he’d wanted Nicole. Wanted her damn bad.

Even now, he could halfway convince himself to go back inside that hotel, get a room and fuck her all night long. Why not? The damage was done. She’d hate him when she found out he was her new star witness against Alvarez.

He muttered again, and revved his engine, forcing himself to drive away. Hating what this job had turned him into, and vowing to walk away when this was over.

Nobody could gamble as much as he had without it catching up with him and he knew it.

Chapter Three

“YOU HAVE TO USE his testimony. This man, this agent, has spent three years of his life undercover for this. He gave up everything to see Alvarez fall.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Nicole insisted, flattening her palms on her desk, and leveling Agent Flores with a stare. “It’s two days before the trial, and you’re telling me I can’t even meet this witness before he goes on the stand. That’s insane.” She leaned back in her well-worn chair, the overused metal base squeaking. “I’m a lot of things, Agent Flores, but crazy isn’t one of them.” Unless you count how I acted in that bar over the past weekend, she added silently.

He eased to the edge of his chair, where he sat directly across from her. They’d been arguing a good fifteen minutes. He’d been on his feet and back down again more times than a pogo stick.

“I told you,” he said, through gritted teeth, “it has been a delicate operation and though I am the lead on this, everyone on the task force agreed we should wait until the last minute. The longer Agent Vega is inside, the less time he’s a target, and the more time we have to gather evidence.”

His explanation didn’t please her and sarcasm laced her reply. “Glad you and your task force are in agreement. Might have been nice if you’d included our office.”

His cell phone rang, and he reached into his suit jacket and withdrew it. “I need to take this.”

Nicole nodded in understanding, glad for a momentary reprieve. Agent Flores seemed determined, pressing her hard on this witness. A tiny spot of concern flared at his absolute insistence. She’d been given second chair on this case, but her boss, Dean, the U.S. Attorney over Western Texas, had a wife with cancer, and he had all but handed her the first-chair duty. He was counting on her not to screw up, and she didn’t want to let him down. And though she knew dismissing a material witness with critical information was a bad idea, she couldn’t feel good about blindly trusting a person’s credibility.