Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [39]
As I walked down the drive, Sam ambled around the truck and leaned against the fender of the passenger side. My feet took flight and suddenly I was running to him. He opened his arms and gathered me close. His body radiated strength, warmth and security. I buried my face against his chest and for a few moments cherished being held.
“Sam, what’s going on? First Depp and now Hassenfeld are dead.”
He ran a comforting hand along my back. “I’m not sure, honey. The car that hit Hassenfeld was stolen. We found it abandoned and wiped clean in a parking lot a few blocks away. We’re checking the area for any security cameras. According to hospital staff, Hassenfeld received a phone call and said he had to leave.”
Sam continued to stroke my spine. “It could be someone panicked and is cutting off any loose ends.”
I lifted my face. “But why now? The Whitman incident couldn’t have thrown that big of a monkey wrench in an operation of this size. All they had to do was to suspend activity for a while until the heat was off and then pick up right where they left off.”
Sam’s breath feathered my face. My skin tingled and the rest of my body tightened in response. “They probably were rattled because an avenging angel by the name of Nicole Sterling asked one too many questions.”
“Me?” I almost squeaked as his hand cupped my bottom. He widened his stance and pressed me until his erection nestled against the crux of my sex. I burned with need.
“Hush.” He lowered his head and nipped at my lips. “Don’t want to wake the neighborhood.” He nuzzled my forehead. “I don’t know about the bad guys, but you make me want to sink to my knees every time I see you in one of those prissy business suits and high heels.”
Sam tightened his hold and I splayed my hands across his chest. Arousal gleamed in his obsidian eyes. “Of course, no one else had better ever think of doing to you what I dream of every night.”
His touch unleashed a dark thrill of yearning, and the cover of night made me reckless. For once I didn’t want to think about consequences, I simply wanted to live in the moment. I rocked my hips against him, seeking to cradle his erection.
I wondered if he realized we were about to push past the remnants of our former relationship and hurl ourselves off the precipice to the unknown.
With a growl low in his throat, he kissed me. Hot, hard and furious. He tasted impossibly of man and sex. Desire whipped through me, immediate and hungry. When had his touch gained such power over me?
I tugged his shirt loose and ran my hands over the silky hair covering his taut abdomen. Sam hissed, muttered a short oath and untied my robe. He slid his hand under the nightie.
“Christ, Red. You’re not wearing any panties. Do you know how hot that makes me?”
My system hit flash point and brain cells melded when he kneaded my flesh. Then he slid a finger into my cleft, ripping a moan from my throat.
“Wrap your legs around me, honey,” he ordered in a harsh whisper. I complied, bring us center to center. The world shifted as he turned holding me and opened the truck’s rear door. My bare bottom met the leather seat. I released my death grip on Sam long enough to scoot backward. He followed, pausing only long enough to shut the door.
Then he covered me, his weight crushing me into the cushion. He slid the robe off my shoulders and then lowered the gown’s thin straps. He hooked a forefinger in the V of the nightie and drew it down exposing my breasts. The chilled night air cooled my heated flesh only for a moment before Sam planted open-mouth kisses along my throat across my chest.
I threaded my fingers through his thick hair and urged him on.
The rasp of his tongue tortured first one nipple and then the other into exquisite points. He slid his hand between our bodies and cupped me.
“You’re so hot, wet and ready for me.”
Desperate, I reached down trying to find the front of his jeans and nipped his shoulder.