Page 82 of Dangerous Passion

His limp weight was enormously heavy, so heavy Grace had to work to be able to breathe, so heavy she could feel her joints stretching where he lay atop her.

But she relished it, held him to her as tightly as she could. It was like his weight grounded her, made her feel she was truly a part of this world for perhaps the first time in her life.

As consciousness returned, she took stock. She’d usually substituted romance novels for romance in her life, and in the books, it was never this … earthy.

The smell of their sex was sharp in the air, sharper that the smell of wood smoke. Her hair was all tangled and sweaty—shewas sweaty all over, as was Drake. Her entire groin area was wet and undoubtedly they had created a wet spot on that incredibly expensive antique Persian carpet under her, the one that had given her rug burn.

Her muscles ached and she had to open her arms, legs falling limply open, too as she let Drake go. One part of her still held him, though. He was still inside her, softer than before but still semi-erect.

She shifted a little to find a more comfortable position, finding it hard with all that weight on her. The instant her hips moved, he stiffened a little inside her and she nearly laughed.

Not right now, ace, maybe laterwas on her lips, but she didn’t have the breath to say the words.

Grace was squashed, uncomfortable, wet and sweaty and totally happy.

Finally, Drake turned his head, eyes half-closed, a small smile on his face. He kissed her ear and whispered something in a language she’d never heard before, three short, liquid syllables.

She had no idea what he’d said, but there was only one possible answer.

“I love you, too, Drake,” she whispered.

Chapter Sixteen

Lido di Ostia Marina

20 miles from Rome on the Tyrrhenian coast

December 4

Rutskoi reluctantly killed the outboard engine and gazed with loathing at the rippling black water under him.

He was an Army man, through and through. Put him on land and he could fight his way through anything. The Russian Army had saved Russia from Napoleon and from Hitler. What had the Russian Navy done? Nothing.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t really swim. He could paddle around in a pool without drowning, but that was about it.

He had imagined his final confrontation with Drake on dry land, walking away the victor, Drake slumped on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Not on the roiling sea. But here he was, on water, the unknown element.

He had supplied Terabyte with a list of all known Drake aliases, including a couple he’d only used a few times. Andfuck him if they didn’t get back to him within 70 hours that a credit card in the name of Serge Blansky had been used in Ostia, a small port city just outside of Rome.

It was the name Drake had used in Ossetia, when he’d been supplying the rebels. As far as Rutskoi knew, Drake had only used the name in the month he’d spent negotiating in Tskhinvali. Still, Rutskoi had remembered and had included the name among the 12 known identities of Drake.

So here was a Serge Blansky, booking a room in Lido di Ostia at a fancy five-star hotel that was just Drake’s style, and buying a Lamborghini from a local dealer. How many Blanskys had that kind of money?

Rutskoi had kept the hotel under surveillance from 100 meters away, but somehow Drake came and went right under his nose, because he never saw him come and never saw him go. Rutskoi was very aware of the fact that a surveillance op like this required a team of five or six men operating around the clock, but he was alone.Deal with it, he told himself.

Good luck came in the form of a text sent to his cellphone from Terabyte.

Subject hired 150 foot yacht from company at Lido di Ostia. Name of yacht ‘Bella Mia’. Costs € 50,000 per day for hire.

Rutskoi had raced to the marina and there she was, half a kilometer out—150 meters of sleek white hull with brass so brightly polished it hurt his eyes through the binoculars.Bella Miain cursive script on the hull.

There was no time to assemble a team ofdivers, Drake could disappear at any moment. And in any case, Rutskoi worked alone. He found a quiet spot far from the marina and settled in to observe. Drake wasn’t in the hotel room, he was on his yacht. He’d bet the $10 million on it.

Probably fucking the woman right this instant.

That’s right, Drake,Rutskoi thought, as he kept the yacht in the lens of his binoculars,enjoy the pussy while you can.

It was dark now. An hour ago, at sunset, all the internal lights of the yacht had lit up. Oh yeah, Drake was on the yacht.

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