Page 53 of Killer Secrets (Tempting SEALs 5)

"Do to you?" He held himself inside her as her muscles rippled around him, throbbing inside her, making her crazy with the flexing, heavy weight. "You destroy my control."

He drew back, his cock dragging through the sensitive tissue as a hard groan echoed behind her.

"What's control?" She shivered, then shuddered as he retreated.

She knew what was coming. She tried to prepare herself for it. Her fingers clenched in the cushion of the chair, tightening as he pressed her into the opposite arm. But it wasn't enough. He drove inside her, and she came within a breath of fracturing.

Because he didn't stop. The hard, furious thrusts stroked and impaled, penetrated and stretched her, in half a dozen hard plunges that sent her screaming into orgasm. She clamped down on his cock, felt her release rush through her, pumping through her veins, through her mind with a detonated force that had to rival a nuclear explosion.

Behind her, Ian snarled, groaned, then jerked from her grip and a second later spilled his release against the small of her back.

He collapsed over her, the hard ridge of his cock trapped between them as his hips jerked, stroking it between their combined flesh as she shuddered in the final throes of pleasure. It was only then she realized that he hadn't used a condom.

It wasn't the first time she had been taken hard, or fast. But God help her if it wasn't the first time it had blown her mind.

Ian's hand, callused and rough, dragged her hair back over her shoulder as his lips pressed against the curve of her arm. Hard breaths rippled over her flesh as he held her close, the now damp length of his cock still throbbing between them.

"You have twenty minutes to shower." His voice was guttural, almost angry despite his harsh breaths, his caressing lips. "And by God, you better not be late."

He pulled away from her as she straightened, turning and leaning against the chair, and she watched him fix his slacks. Within seconds, other than a sheen of sweat on his broad shoulders, he was perfectly collected, while her legs felt like spaghetti and her mind was mush.

"Eighteen minutes." His voice was hard, his eyes were blazing with emotions. Anger and remnants of arousal.

"Eighteen minutes." She tensed her legs and forced herself to move away from him. "I'll be ready in ten."

* * *

Fifteen

SHE WAS READY IN TEN. Ian watched as she strolled out of the bathroom dressed in white figure-skimming casual pants and a creamy sleeveless blouse.

Her long black hair was mostly dry and fell around her shoulders and down her back in a cascade of rough silk. Lightly tanned flesh contrasted with the white fabric, and those sexy-as-hell legs looked longer with the should-be-illegal white fuck-me pumps she wore with the outfit. She paced over to the walk-in closet where the maid had unpacked her luggage, disappeared inside then returned with a small, matching leather clutch.

She looked like a fallen angel.

Even after the rough treatment he had given her minutes before, bending her over the chair, fucking her like the animal he sometimes felt he was, she still managed to flash him a teasing smile.

After choosing her clothes, Ian had changed his own slacks. He wore navy now with a loose gray finely threaded cotton shirt that hung over the casual pants. He wore boots today. Not combat boots—damn, he missed those—but comfortable, well-made leather boots that would be easier to fight in if the meeting he was heading to took a nosedive.

A meeting he was going to have to take Kira to. His gaze checked out her outfit again as his back teeth clenched in fury. She had to appear harmless, though he knew for a fact she was anything but.

He moved to the locked dresser drawer where he kept a few smaller weapons, pulled free a backup handgun and several fully loaded clips before relocking the drawer and turning to her.

"Pack these." He handed her the weapon and ammo.

Without comment she took them, tucked them into h

er purse, and stared back at him with a glimmer of amusement in her blue-ringed gray eyes.

"I had my own weapons," she told him. "What did you do with them?"

"Daniel has them." He tucked his hands in his pants and let his gaze skim over her again. "Those heels are going to be a hell of a handicap if one of these meetings goes sour."

"My heels weren't a handicap in Russia," she reminded him softly. "And if anyone is going to believe I'm a helpless little female, then the look has to be right. Dress me any other way, and they'll be on guard."

And she was right. She couldn't be seen as anything less than all woman. A trophy. Nothing more.

He nodded slowly. "I'm meeting with Josef Missern. After the assassin that followed him to the buy and last night's confrontation, he's offered me a hell of a deal to make up for any misunderstandings. We'll be meeting with him to iron out the details and see what he has."

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