Page 72 of Covert Temptation

“We were expecting this, you know.” Con’s statement redirected his attention.

“Expecting what?”

“You. Her. This. You felt strongly about her from the start. Anger like that doesn’t come from nothing. That kind of heat? It turns into something else if you’re not careful.”

Dante stared at Kennedy and—God help him—he saw the truth of Con’s words.

“Can’t help it.”

Con groaned. “And so it begins. Good thing she’s innocent.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I wasn’t sure until now. You don’t trust anyone easily, Dante. If you trust Kennedy, then she’s innocent.”

The force of those words trickled over him like a soothing balm. It meant so much, hearing this from his commanding officer. It meant that he was just as much a point man making calls as anyone on the team. The guys trusted his word on this investigation.

“Do not pull a Denver on us. Charlie needs you too damn much,” Con said.

Dante smirked. “Denver left on medical. Don’t you mean pulling aCon? You got the girl. She stuck around. Same with Henner and May, and Chase and Alyssa. Seems like it works for the team.” He gave Kennedy a slow, deliberate once-over, from her painted toes to her hair, still mussed from their brief and explosive make-out session.

A pink flush made her skin glow, and the soft smile she gave him in return told him everything he needed to know.

Tonight, she would be in his bed.

* * * * *

Dante backed Kennedy into the wall with a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into her. His mouth was drawn to hers like it couldn’t get enough, and neither could hers.

Their lips collided with no hesitation, no patience. Just fire. Picking up where they left off before dinner arrived, he skimmed her sides, dragging her sweater up until his fingers found bare skin.

She shivered at the contact and moaned as his tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, tasting, claiming. Kennedylet herself melt against him, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders as if she could anchor herself to the storm he stirred inside her.

With every passing second, more stripped away. He kissed her like he was starving—like her mouth was his first breath of air after being underwater for too long. She responded in kind, meeting his rhythm, gasping when he lifted her onto her toes, grinding her body to his like he couldn’t bear an inch between them.

One hand tangled in her hair, angling her lips to plunge deeper. The other hand gripped her hip with bruising intensity. Her moan vibrated against his mouth, and he swallowed it like it was the only sound he ever wanted to hear again.

When his teeth grazed her lower lip and he caught it in a soft bite, she whimpered and arched into him, clawing into his back through his shirt. His kisses grew messier, harder—plundering her mouth with so much desperation it left her dizzy.

Every stroke of his tongue sent her pulse soaring. The way he moved against her, the heat in his touch, the groan he let out when her leg hitched around his hip—it was all wild. Unstoppable.

He pressed into her, thigh between her legs, and kissed his way down her jaw to her throat. His stubble scraped over sensitive skin and her head fell back with a shuddering breath. Her fingers dug into his arms, holding on as he dragged his mouth back up to hers, stealing another kiss, then another.

His hands were everywhere—her waist, her back, skimming up her ribs, teasing at the edge of her bra. And God, she wanted more.

She wanted all of him.

Then she pulled back, breathless and flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. She pressed her hands lightly to his chest—not to push him away, just to pause him.

“Wait.” Her breath caught. “I have something to show you.” Before he could drag her back or protest, she slipped from his arms and padded away down the hall, tossing a playful smile over her shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere. You’re gonna like this.”

As she closed her bedroom door, her heart pounded with excitement, and her hands tremored with nerves as she quickly opened the package she left at the foot of her bed.

When she pulled out the garment, satin and lace spilled into her fingers. The deep red hue was one of her favorites, and she had a few items in her wardrobe of this color…but nothing for the bedroom.

She didn’t waste time. Stripping out of her jeans and sweater, she slipped into the lingerie ensemble. The sheer bodice that hugged her torso and dipped low in front, trimmed in lace, with matching thigh-highs and a garter belt, made her feel far more dangerous than anyone under constant surveillance ever should.

She added a perfume—just a spritz between her breasts—then ran a hand through her hair and stepped back to glance in the mirror.

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