Page 43 of One Secret

'You tell me,' I order.

'Hmm...' Darcy sighs appreciatively, stroking over the bulging denim. I feel my shaft jolt at the sensation, sparks zinging through my bloodstream. My breath catches in my lungs.

Darcy inhales, slow and deep.

'We never did get to finish what we started last time...' she whispers.

I groan.

'Trust me, baby, I'm more than aware...'

But, much as I loathe to admit it right this moment, I'm also aware of something else…

Though Darcy's lips are parting in desire and as much as her eyes burn with sensual want... her lids are still hooded. And there's a stiffness in her frame that belies her exhaustion.

Unable to resist completely, I lean down and sip from her mouth. Sucking on her lower lip, I nibble on the sensitive flesh. I lick a gasp right off her tongue...

...and then I pull back.

'Later,' I promise her.

'Later?' she squeaks brokenly, as I push back up to my feet.

'You need some rest,' I say. Then chuckle at the expression on her face. 'Now who's the one glowering?'

'I don't like men telling me what to do.'

'I didn't tell you to do anything,' I challenge. 'I made an observation. Sleep or don't sleep, it's entirely up to you. But I'm going out to survey the hotel.'

'Right now?'

'No,' I say with a heavy dose of stoicism, 'after we accidentally piss someone off and try to run the wrong way down a dead end.'

Darcy gives me an equally banal look.

'Point made,' she concedes.

I smile at our shared sense of dry humor, before checking I have a room key in my back pocket and that my firearms are out of sight.

'I'll be back in a bit.'

'Bring something to eat back with you?'

'Wings?'

We'd never gone out to a restaurant, nor been on anything close to a date. But on the rare occasion Darcy grabbed something to eat pre- or post-coital, her go-to was always chicken she could nibble. If it was coated in BBQ, all the better.

At the idea of wings, Darcy falls back onto the bed with the sexiest moan I've ever heard. I have to plant my feet not to take back everything I've just said and mount her right here and now.

'That sounds divine...'

Before my sex drive can twist her comment to mean anything other than food, I figure it's best to just disengage from the situation. I nod, offer a two-finger salute, and storm straight out into the corridor.

Outside, I have to take a moment to gather my wits and my bearings.

Right on cue, as if sensing impending doom, my cell phone rings. No caller ID in my industry, but I recognize the number.

Leon Machelli's right-hand man, Jaime.

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