Wanted (Most Wanted 1)

I carried my wine to bed and repeated his words in my head. I'd be thinking of him, too. About him. About threats and crimes and the FBI. About Washington.

And, yes. About flying.

I stayed awake as long as I could, fighting sleep. For the last few days, there'd been no nightmares. But tonight, without Evan beside me, I knew that they would come again. Salt-water scented dreams punctuated by the hollow screams of my sister. Dreams that reached out and grabbed me from sleep, so pernicious that they even followed me to work the next day where I sat, bleary-eyed at my desk, and tried to focus on Kat's voice, tinny and thin over the phone.

"Kevin's a prick," she was saying. "He's just flashing his badge around so he can feel like a badass."

"Maybe. I don't know." I'd told her about Kevin, but not about Larry. "But I don't want to think about Kevin at all." I sighed. "I still haven't heard from Evan today. I need a distraction. Want to grab a drink? Flynn's working tonight. We could go harass him at the bar."

"Sounds like fun. See you there around eight?"

"Perfect."

I left a message for Flynn as soon as I got home from work telling him to expect us that evening. And then, since I had a couple of hours to kill before I changed and headed to the saloon, I decided to take a sketchpad and a glass of wine and head up to the patio.

I was sketching Evan's face from memory when the intercom on the bar buzzed, followed by Peterson's cultured voice. "Mr. Black is here. May I send him up?"

I pushed the button to reply. "He's here? Or he's on the phone?"

"He's standing right in front of me."

My pulse quickened. "Send him up." I stood and started pacing. I was so damn eager that I felt like a fool. He'd been gone less than twenty-four hours, and I felt like he'd been away for a year.

In other words, I had it bad.

In other words, in about a week, I was going to be royally screwed.

Dangerous. Yeah. Evan Black was as dangerous as they came.

I heard him push open the door, and I sprinted that direction, only to skid to a stop when he emerged, looking relaxed and windblown and sexy as hell.

I wanted to stand there and soak in the wonder of him. I wanted this moment, when it was just the two of us, and no secrets and no threats.

Then he held out his arms and I collapsed into them, overwhelmed by the sudden, inescapable feeling that this was like coming home.

Except it was only an illusion.

I knew the surface of his secrets, but only what he'd revealed to me and only as an allegory. And while I'd been telling myself that was okay since I was leaving--that it was for the best, even--the truth was I wanted more. I wanted so much more.

Because I'd realized that it wasn't the fantasy I'd spun about Evan Black that gave me that thrill I craved so much--it was the man himself. His presence, his humor, his tenderness. Even his secrets.

And all I wanted in that moment was to know him. To really and truly know him.

"What is it?" he asked, stepping back to take a good, long look at my face.

I half-laughed. What was it I'd said? That he saw me? Apparently, I'd been dead on the money with that one. There was no keeping things hidden from this man.

I wanted to beg him to tell me his secrets, but I was desperately afraid that if I asked he would say no. And I didn't want to face that, not right then. Not when he'd just walked through my door.

And so I kept my own secret, hiding my real needs behind a false smile. "It's nothing," I said. "Just that I didn't expect you tonight, and I already have plans with Kat and Flynn at the pub. But I can break them."

"Don't do that. I'll go with you. Cole wanted to grab a drink tonight anyway. I'll tell him to meet us."

"Yeah?" I couldn't help my smile. It felt so nice--so normal--to be planning an evening out with friends. "What about Tyler?"

"Tyler thinks that you and I are a bad idea."

I nodded, my chest feeling unwelcomely tight. I loved Tyler like a brother and hated this feeling that I was disappointing him somehow. "But Cole doesn't?" He sure as hell hadn't been the picture of support at Destiny.

The corner of Evan's mouth quirked up. "He thinks we're a bad idea, too. But he also knows you're leaving soon. He said we might as well get each other out of our systems while we have the chance."

"I see." My stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. "Well. There you go. I always knew Cole was a smart guy." My smile felt wobbly. "A fling before Washington. Almost sounds like the name of a really bad movie."

I tried to force a grin, but Evan's expression was entirely humorless. He reached out and gently stroked my jawline. "It won't ever happen, you know. It's not possible that you would ever be out of my system. You could walk away right now, and even if I never saw you again, I would always hold you tight inside me."

The rocks dissolved, and I felt lighter than air. I couldn't seem to form a proper response, but when I lifted myself up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, I think he understood. His mouth tasted like mint, and though it had only been one night, I missed him like crazy. I didn't even want to think about how I was going to survive in Washington. If nothing else, I supposed Congressman Winslow was about to get himself the best damn employee ever, because I was going to dive so deep into my work that I didn't have time or energy to think of anything else, not even the man I was falling in love with.

I trembled in his arms, finally acknowledging the thought I'd tried to ignore at the art exhibition. I'd fallen for Evan Black years ago. But I'd fallen in love within the last few days. When I had to leave, it would be a different kind of fall altogether.

"Hey," he said, breaking our kiss and then dipping his head to brush his lips over the tip of my nose. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"That I want you inside me," I said.

He glanced at his watch, then back up at me. His smile was slow and sensual and completely melted me. "What time are we supposed to be at the pub?"

"Do you care if we're late?"

"Hell no," he said.

"Then it doesn't matter." I pressed against him. "We should go down to the bedroom."

"We should," he agreed.

"I don't want to move."

"Then don't."

"I want it hard," I said. "No talk, no niceties. Just you inside me five minutes ago."

"Jesus, Lina," he growled, then scooped me up so that my legs were around his waist. We were only a few feet from the kitchen area, and he plunked me down on the countertop, yanking my skirt up in the process, then ripping his jeans open so fast I was surprised the buttons didn't pop. I spread my legs, wanting him, unable to wait even another second, and then reached down to try to fumble out of my panties.

"No," he said, and as I tilted my head up in question, he reached out and tugged the crotch of my panties roughly to one side. He thrust two fingers inside me, so hard and fast and deep that I cried out, and then he moved in between my legs, his cock positioned now where his fingers used to be. I was already soaked, but as soon as I looked down at where our bodies were joined--at the way he was moving inside me and the way my body was drawing him in--I got even wetter still.

"Harder," I demanded as he pistoned against me, his hands on my hips holding me in place even as I leaned back, bracing myself with my hands on the counter. "Yes, please, more." I'd lost the ability to form a coherent thought. I was need only. I was desire.

And then--faster than I could ever remember coming in my life--I burst into a wild flurry of molecules, everything I was melting into everything that was Evan.

"Baby." He sighed, his body still trembling against mine as I clung to him.

After a moment, I pulled reluctantly away. "I should probably change before we go."

"No," he said, as he reached for some napkins and cleaned us both up. "Keep the skirt and the panties on."

"Really?"

"I like it," he said. "I like knowing you're freshly fucked. That just a few minutes ago your legs were wide and

I was deep inside you. I like you sitting there in your little work outfit looking all proper, and knowing that I'm the reason your panties are damp. It reminds me that you're mine. At least for a few more days."

"I am yours," I said. I always will be.

I didn't say the last part aloud, but he knew it. How could he not? Hadn't I learned that Evan Black knew me better than anyone?

"I'm serious," Kat said, holding up her third beer. "I think the two of you should go skydiving."

I glanced at Evan, who was clearly amused by my very drunk friend.

"And why would we want to do that?" Evan asked.

"Well," Kat said, leaning across the table with a very serious expression. "In case you hadn't noticed, our little Angie is a bit of a thrillseeker."

"No," Evan said, his voice laced with mock surprise.

"It's true." Kat nodded a few times too many, as if she was trying to mimic a bobble-head doll. "And you need to make sure that she gets it out of her system, because once she moves to D.C., she's going to be boring as shit. Daddy issues," she added, in a mock whisper. "It's true. Honest."

"What's true is that you are taking a taxi home," I said, forcing myself to smile and sound lighthearted when I really wanted to strangle my friend. My move was barreling down on me, and I didn't want to be reminded of it, thank you very much. Even more, I didn't want Evan reminded of it.

"Are you suggesting I'm drunk?"

"Not suggesting at all. Flat-out stating."

"Drunk or not," Evan said, "I think your friend has a great idea. Shall I arrange for a skydiving session?"

"Don't you dare."

"And here I thought you wanted to fly."