Page 88 of Dangerous Secrets

“I can’t kiss you,” he said starkly. Deep grooves bracketed that beautiful mouth. “I can’t send you in there with your mouth swollen with kisses. We can’t make love, either, though I’m about ready to burst out of my skin.” He angled his lower body to rest against hers and she could feel his erection against her stomach, hot and hard. “I can’t. I can’t guarantee I won’t leave any signs on you. But when this is over I’m taking you to bed and I’m going to fuck you breathless.”

“Okay,” she whispered, watching his eyes.

As if it pained him, he let go of her neck, one finger at a time, and stepped back. It was like a force field suddenly switching off, or the planet’s gravity disappearing. She stumbled, in free fall.

Nick’s arms were around her in an instant, pulling her against him again.

She wriggled a little because her back was pressed against the wall and he was pressed hard against her. She felt his penis ripple as he drew in a sharp breath.

“Jesus,” he muttered. He stepped away reluctantly. One step, two. He turned to the briefcase and came back with the electronic doodads in his hands, wires dangling.

He reached his hand out and he slowly unzipped her track suit jacket, then stepped back, pulling in a deep breath, eyes closed.

She stood there, feeling the cold in a little strip along her chest where the jacket was open.

Nick opened his eyes again, face stark. He put his hands on her chest, watching her carefully, then slowly opened his hands. Up over the balls of her shoulders, sweeping the jacket down. His jaw muscles were jumping, his forehead beaded with sweat. He looked down at her for several long moments, naked except for her bra.

He reached around her, unhooked her bra. It fell to the floor in a silken slither and she was naked.

Charity stood straight, arms at her side, not knowing what to do. She’d been naked with Nick so many times and so joyfully. But that had been Nick Ames. She still didn’t know how to react to Nick Ireland.

He lowered his head until his forehead rested on her shoulder. She could feel the dampness and heat of his skin against hers. They stood there, unmoving, for five minutes, ten.

Charity couldn’t think with Nick so close to her, pressed up against her. He seemed to suck up all her emotions andthoughts. Mind utterly blank, her body took over. As if she had no volition of her own, her hands rose hesitantly, up the outside of his black jacket, to finally hold him in an embrace. His whole body shook, a long tremble that seemed to rise from his black boots and encompass his tall, strong body.

One big hand moved from her back to cup her breast. Such a familiar feeling, Nick’s hand on her breast. In an instant, all the feelings that had been kept at bay, somehow remote from her, flooded her in a wild rush. Arousal, anger, fierce joy, agonizing pain.

He thumbed her nipple and the pleasure was electric, bolting through her system like lightning.

His head pulled up and back as he watched his hand on her breast. “Do they feel different?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“A little,” she whispered.

His hand moved from her breast, down to cover her belly. It rested there, warm and large. Right over where their child was growing.

Finally, Nick moved, pulling away to get the electronic paraphernalia.

The body wire was complicated to strap on, and required several pieces of tape. Nick worked slowly and carefully, face intent. He was sweating so hard a bead dropped down his temple.

He disappeared into her bedroom and came back with a black cardigan and dressed her, slowly, carefully. A tiny videocamera took the place of one of the buttons.

“I’ll be watching you,” Nick said. “Watching everything.”

She nodded.

He ran her through the precautions. Her head swam with frequencies and audio cones and battery life, though he made her promise again, looking him straight in the eyes, that atminute twenty after entering Vassily’s house, she’d plead a headache and come home.

Finally, it was done.

Nick wrapped her in his arms and they stood there, both shaking, his head buried in her neck. She felt moisture on the bare skin of her neck. She pulled back, surprised.

Tears, not sweat.

She reached up to run her hands through his blue-black hair. Nick. Her husband. Who’d lied to her, who wasn’t what he said he was. But she loved him all the same, with everything in her.

A deep shudder rippled through his long body, then he straightened. He looked at her, not even trying to hide the tears streaking his cheeks.

“I’ll be close by,” he said starkly.

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