Page 92 of Spooked

She shook her head, and when she bit that lip, he was gone.

“Roll onto your other side.”

“I won’t be able to see you.”

“No, but you’ll be able to feel me. Trust me, my queen, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

She obeyed.

Indi had worn a dress on the plane, one of the dozen outfits that Brax had asked Teresa to pick up for her yesterday. Now he inched the maroon silk up her thighs and slipped a finger under her panties. Soaked already? She must have been considering the mile-high idea for a while. He owed Priest a bottle of Scotch for putting the idea into her mind, the good stuff.

Brax stroked her clit, and fuck, she was so wonderfully responsive. Her ass pressed against his rapidly hardening cock, and he knew this wouldn’t take long. Impromptu, slightly risky sex—he’d last about two minutes himself. But with the mile-high club, he’d always believed it was about the destination rather than the journey.

He trailed a finger through her slick folds, then circled the tiny bud of nerves that gave a woman so much pleasure. Indi squirmed in his arms, and he loved that she didn’t hold back. She was almost there. So damn close. He shifted his other hand to muffle her cry if it came, and it did, half a minute later as she stiffened and then relaxed in his arms.

She was slick with sweat, a wet, sensuous heat that he basked in. Some people thought sex was messy, but that was a lie. Love was messy. Sex was beautiful.

Brax rolled on a condom and slid Indi’s panties to one side. Leaving them on only added to the thrill. Slowly, so slowly, he took her from behind, and she was so deliciously tight. He was her first, and he intended to be her last as well. Brax didn’t share. Okay, perhaps he had in the past with Zach, but not Indi. She was his, and his alone.

He could hear voices in the main cabin as he thrust, maybe Jerry and Tulsa. A cough. Theclinkof a glass.

“There,” Indi choked out. “Right there. Oh…”

He gave her what she asked for. Would she come again? He was up for the challenge in every possible way. He kissed her neck, her back, her shoulders, and she rewarded him with soft whimpers that brought out his inner caveman.

His.

She was his.

Then she clenched around him, gasping his name into his hand, and he followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing as he spilled into her.

This woman was his, and he was never letting her go.

CHAPTER33

THE ASSISTANT

Everyone knew what we’d done on the plane; I was certain of it. My legs had been as bendy as an IV tube when Brax helped me down the steps in Porto, the nearest airport to Fundão with a runway long enough to accommodate the jet. Apparently it could land closer, but it couldn’t take off again.

But nobody said anything as a customs official gave our baggage a cursory glance, wished us a pleasant vacation, and headed back to the terminal. Four vehicles were waiting for us, sleek SUVs, two black, two white. There was a brief delay as we strapped surfboards to the roofs, but soon we set off on the three-hour journey to Fundão.

And I was terrified. Terrified by what we might find, or that we’d find nothing at all.

I checked my phone again, praying for a message from Meera, wishing I could call the whole search off, apologise profusely to these people who’d dropped everything to help me, and slink off home. Wherever home was.

“Are you ready?” Brax asked.

“No.”

While we’d been joining the mile-high club—Meera was going to choke when I told her about that—the others had been plotting. We’d spent the last hour of the flight together in the main cabin discussing their plan. They wanted me to make the initial approaches to Meera’s colleagues at Quinta do Lago, to Pedro’s brother, and to the owner of the hostel where she’d been staying. Those were all people who’d spent time with her recently, and hopefully, one of them would be able to provide further details of the French-slash-Belgian guy she’d been hanging out with.

The hope was that the witnesses might be more open with a female friend than with a cop or, say, Dawson or Priest. Brax and Ari would come with me for moral support, and Tulsa would translate when necessary.

Meanwhile, Jerry and Chase would visit the police to see what they had to say, while Dawson and Priest were heading to Lisbon to search for Alfie. Alexa had been sending through leads as she found them, and the team had a good idea where he was.

“Just ask the same questions you would have asked if you’d come alone, and let Ari chip in if necessary. It’ll be over before you know it.” Brax was driving, but he glanced across at me. “Alexa sent me your college transcript and a bunch of notes from your professors. There were several mentions of you staying calm under pressure.”

I didn’t even want to know how she’d gotten ahold of that information.

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