Page 63 of Hot Pursuit
I will.
I will.
The answer bubbled at the back of her throat, but before she could say it, a light flashed over them, bright and jarring, the headlights of a car. They broke apart, foreheads pressed together, nothing but ragged breath and a few bare inches between them. Light strains of music and the dull murmur of conversation filled the empty alley, spilling over the wall, bringing her back to reality.
Jo opened her mouth to say she would stay, but instead, a different sentiment spilled out. “Come with me.”
Nate blinked, the heady passion clearing from his eyes. “What?”
Jo reached up and grabbed both of his hands, then took a step backward, tugging him along. “Come with me.”
“Where?” He shook his head. Jo could see the rules and regulations and logic starting to flood back into his gaze. “The car is around front. Follow me, and we can find Leo. We can go to headquarters. You can sign the papers. We can—”
“Nate,” Jo said, yanking hard on his hands, forcing him to focus on her. Because paperwork and offices and more Feds were the last things she wanted right now. All she wanted was him. Alone. No urgency. No rush. The two of them in a room with all the time in the world. And Jo knew from her snooping that his hotel was about thirty blocks south. “Come with me.”
He scrunched his brows but followed, still holding her hand as she wound them through the rest of the alleyway and the gated entrance to the street, far down the other side of the block where no one from the gala would ever see them. Nate turned left, but Jo tugged him right and lifted her free arm. Two seconds later, a cab pulled to a stop on the street corner.
Jo got in.
Nate looked to where his partner must have been waiting, looked at her, looked back, and then followed her inside.
“Fiftieth and Lex, please,” Jo murmured to the driver.
Nate cut her a confused glance and then said, “Actually, can we go to 26 Federal Plaza.”
Jo rolled her eyes with a sigh. That was the address of the FBI headquarters in New York. A definite no, thank you.
Difficult. Why do men always have to be so incredibly difficult?
She squeezed Nate’s palm and leaned close, pressing her lips to his ear, letting her chest rub against his arm. Her free hand landed on his mid-thigh and crept ever so slightly higher as she whispered, “Do you remember the photo I sent you?”
His eyes practically bulged from his head. The red lace panties. The just-padded-enough bra to perk her chest into optimal position. Oh, he remembered. He definitely remembered. At the time, she’d thought she’d only been teasing him with the idea of barely there lingerie, but in the back of her head, she must have always known where the night would lead. Why else would she have spent a few hundred dollars purchasing new undergarments when she’d already had some perfectly acceptable black cotton ones for the evening? Not sexy, per se, but acceptable.
“Do you remember why I bought them?” she continued, nuzzling into his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his skin.
Nate cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Yes…”
The obvious strain in his voice brought a wicked smile to her lips. “Don’t you want to see if I was lying, Agent Parker? If you can catch mered-handed?”
She licked him, darting her tongue against his steaming skin for a hot, quick second, as she tightened her grip on his leg. And then she fell back into her seat and crossed her arms, staring at him with a brow lifted.
Nate swallowed.
Slowly.
And then leaned forward to tell the cabbie, “Fiftieth and Lex, please.”
The address of his hotel.
As he well knew.
When Nate sat back down, he reached over and tugged her hand free, so their clasped palms rested on the empty seat between them. Jo didn’t fight it. In fact, she liked the feel of his large calloused hands in hers, the rough scrape she couldn’t wait to feel on other parts of her skin, the way he took charge. He absently rubbed his thumb over her knuckle, shifting and teasing, tracing shapes along her skin. She loved that it seemed to require no thought, no conscious effort, as though touching her was as easy and as simple as breathing, as necessary too. Where his fingers traveled, heat began to boil and stir, spreading up her arms and into the air, filling the small interior with a heat entirely of their making.
The silence stretched.
The tension grew.
Taut and tight.
