Page 1 of Extracted

CHAPTER 1

It’s her.

Without a doubt, one-thousand-fucking-percent, it was her.

Dallas lifted the beer to his lips and sucked back the amber liquid. The setting sun singed the back of his neck but he didn’t move to the vacant chair adjacent to him. Movement could draw her attention.

He kept his eyes on her, studying her, from the perfect lines of her face all the way down to her sleek golden legs. If perfection had a picture, it would be of Gemma Turner.

She wore a loose-fitting white dress that exposed the bronze skin of her shoulder. The material accentuated the swell of her breasts, the neckline dipping too low for his comfort on the patio full of dudes. The hem of the dress rested midthigh, and beige-colored sandals added a few inches to her short stature. Her ebony hair hung in loose waves to her waist. Even from where he sat, a good twenty-five feet away, the sight of her dark eyelashes and cerulean-blue eyes made his heart stop.

She let out a laugh while she stood conversing with a younger couple, a sound he’d only heard from her delicious lips a few times but was nonetheless embossed in his brain.

Of all the places for him to run into his once-a-year-if-that fuck buddy. He certainly hadn’t expected to see her in Cali, Colombia. Add in that he was at a mansion turned hotel in the mountains and the likeliness of their encounter was even slimmer.

Anger expanded inside him. Undoubtedly, she was here doing whatever work she kept so damn secretive.

His pulse revved beneath his skin, urging him out of his seat. Now she couldn’t just take off. Now he might get some answers.

He placed his beer on the glass tabletop and moved toward her. He knew he needed to sit his ass down. Remember he was on a job. Any reason the cagey little seductress was here was one he didn’t need to know about.

But nothing could keep him away.

Not the job he was working. Not the fact that he should be pissed at her for vanishing after every time he got between her legs. Not even the fact that she’d run from him yet again. The thought of being closer to her flesh was too tempting. He needed to ease the torture her memory inflicted on his mind.

Because one thing about Gemma—she never turned him down. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She could just walk away afterward a helluva lot more easily.

She turned away from the couple and breezed inside the stone building. Her dark locks bounced off her shoulders, taunting his fingers, which wanted to run through the silky strands. Her ass swung side to side as her high heels clomped over the polished tile.

Anticipation churned in his gut as he followed her, the need to have his hands on her body so great it made his blood thicken and his cock go hard. Gemma wasn’t his, but goddamn he couldn’t seem to get that message through to his manhood.

She strode across the main lobby toward the large floor-to-ceiling doors that opened to the side patio.

He couldn’t stop her right in the lobby and talk to her. Even though the area was free of guests, he couldn’t chance someone spotting him. Risking her safety wasn’t an option.

His leather loafers moved soundlessly behind her. His gaze landed on a shallow nook between the window and the interior wall. A door handle stuck out from it. Likely a utility or storage room.

The distance between them shrunk as he picked up the pace. He caught her wrist. Her arm stiffened in his hold and she whirled around, a sharp gasp squeaking from her lips. Her big blue eyes rounded on his face—shock and . . . panic?

“Dallas,” she croaked.

He towed her toward the nook, opened the door, and rushed her inside. The left side of the closet allowed enough space for both their bodies, and a pile of cleaning supplies took up the right. The sweet scent of her perfume, raspberries and lemon drops, flooded the enclosure. A little bit of light shined through the cracks of the door.

The small quarters forced his body against hers. She pressed her hands to his sides as if for balance.

He was too close. Too close not to touch her. Too close not to taste her.

He cupped her jaw and sealed his mouth over hers. Her warm, soft lips parted and a cry escaped her throat as she rose onto her toes. She snaked her hand around his neck and pulled him to her. The heat of her tongue flicked into his mouth, sending a shockwave of need through his body. Desire pumped inside him, taking over every rational thought that remained.

She pulled away and pressed a hand to his chest with enough pressure to keep him back an inch.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her whisper oozed indignation.

He didn’t take his hands off her. He couldn’t. Not until he had her again. “I could ask you the same thing.” He blinked until all the moisture was gone from his sockets. He had to see her face.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his Zippo lighter. Damn, he probably still smelled like the Cuban cigar he’d smoked outside.

Gemma hated the smell of smoke.

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