Deliciously Dangerous (7 page)

“Let me think about it.”

“I’m not a fragile piece of glass, you know. I can take care of myself in this business. Miyagi caught me off guard, but it won’t happen again.”

Jammer cupped her face and met her blue eyes. “That threat has been neutralized. I made sure of it. I will do anything for you, Gina, but have a care when it comes to Fuentes. He’s ruthless and heartless. He doesn’t have any concern for human life. He takes it without impunity.”

“Sounds like you have firsthand knowledge.”

Jammer let her go and turned away. “I do, and that’s not something I will discuss.”

This time she took his face in her hands. “Did you lose people close to you at the hands of Fuentes?”

The guilt twisted like a knife inside him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He tried to pull away but she wouldn’t go. He sighed. “Don’t ask me any more questions about Fuentes. It’s time to check on dinner.”

He felt her gaze on him, but ignored her, capturing her around the waist and setting her on her feet.

He could sense the tension in the air around him, snapping with electricity. When she touched his arm, he jolted as if he had received a shock.

“I’m very, very sorry.”

“It was my fault,” he whispered, the anguish almost palpable.

Without another word, she followed him into the house.

The smell in the kitchen made his mouth water. There were only five minutes left on the timer, so he grabbed two plates, trying to let what had happened outside slide off him as he’d done in the past. He wished she hadn’t been there to witness his weak moment, but her sympathy had touched him in a place so deep he’d thought it was out of reach.

He placed rolls on each plate and quickly put together the ingredients for a salad.

When the timer went off he served the salad and then remembered the wine.

“Let me go down and get a bottle.”

“In the dungeon?” she said in a comical stage whisper.

He chuckled. “Yes, want to come with me?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

The stairs to the wine cellar were cut stone, as were the walls. At the bottom were rows and rows of wine, some of it his as well as other vintage bottles he’d picked up here and there.

In the corner sat an old-fashioned rack. A mock Scottish castle had to have a dungeon and the requisite torture device, even if it was nothing but a prop.

“Oh no, this looks…dangerous.”

“It’s for show, but it’s got restraints and it does work.”

“Have you ever used it on your victims?”

He laughed. “No,” he said, and slapped her on the ass. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“Oooh, you could be the evil overlord and I’ll be your
captured noblewoman who won’t sell you the land you covet. You have to torture me to get me to submit.”

“Hmm, that has potential. But I can think of better torture than stretching your joints until they feel like they’re going to pull apart.”

“I bet you can.”

“Come on, let’s get the wine. Our dinner’s cooling and I’m starving.”

Gina shot one more glance at the rack and followed him as he chose a white to compliment the crab.

Back upstairs, they went outside to enjoy their dinner. The conversation revolved around business and the ins and outs of gunrunning, including the many pitfalls of federal intervention.

When Gina went to pour more wine, the bottle was empty. They both went down to the cellar for another, but she got too close to Jammer at the bottom, brushing by him, inflaming him.

After her shower she had changed into a daisy-flowered miniskirt and a gauzy yellow top that showed a purple bra beneath.

Unable to help himself, he came up behind her and encircled her waist. Slipping his hands underneath the material, he said softly, in a perfect Scottish accent, “Milady, you will consent to sell me your land when I am through with you.”

Gina laughed softly and gasped as his hands cupped her breasts.

“You canna make me do something against my will. I will defy you at every turn.”

He kissed her neck, his mouth trailing up to the
delicate shell of her ear, where he whispered, “You will agree to that and more.”

He started to undress her, and Gina pretended to fight him, turning to face him and pummeling his chest with her tiny fists. But he lifted her bodily and laid her on the rack, shackling her loosely.

Then he removed his clothing and walked over to get another bottle of wine, this time choosing champagne.

He returned to the rack and looked down at her. She might be the one constrained, but he was the one helpless. She was so fucking beautiful, exquisitely so, her agile, graceful body stretched out and completely under his power.

After trailing the neck of the bottle from her rapidly beating pulse point down to her high, firm breasts, he replaced the bottle with his own lips, quickly sucking each nipple into his mouth with a tug and a rake of his teeth, drawing a swift, hard gasp and an uncontrollable arch of her body.

“I want to sip you like this champagne.”

“Use me to quench whatever thirst you have,” she said, her gaze demanding he do his worst—or his best.

“I don’t know if anything will quench my thirst for you,” he admitted, and that would be true for the rest of his life—with or without her in it.

With the champagne still in his hand, he straddled her hips. Smiling with lascivious intent, he looked at the bottle, then down at her. “Let’s see if we can put this to good use.”

“Oh, if only you had the end of a mustache to twist, this would be perfect.”

He laughed out loud.

He opened the champagne, the cork popping loudly in the room.

“A good sound. Should be nice and bubbly,” she said.

He took a long pull of the clear, sweet wine, which got his taste buds tingling. Taking more into his mouth, he leaned down and kissed her, releasing the wine into her mouth for her to savor and swallow. He could taste the mingling of her luscious essence and the sweet nectar of the champagne, a heady aphrodisiac that made his whole body tense in sensual need. But he had other places to explore on her than her sumptuous lips.

He released her, but she wasn’t quite ready to let him go. The restraints of the rack stopped her from reaching for him, however. “Jammer,” she moaned feverishly.

“There are other things to taste,” he said softly, tipping the bottle up until the golden liquid splashed onto one cherry-sweet nipple. It budded immediately into a hard, mouthwatering peak and Gina cried out. The chilled liquid against her hot skin produced another strangled moan when he splashed the other turgid bud. The wine ran in rivulets off the globes of her breasts, slid sensuously down the taut line of her stomach and pooled in her belly button.

She shuddered more from the sensation, he was sure, than the temperature of the wine. “You’re getting me all wet!”

“Wet and wild for me.”

“Oh, yes. Oh, hell yes!”

“It’s great when a plan comes together.” Laughing softly, he dipped his head and hovered over her wet and tantalizing breast, blowing a burning-hot breath against her sensitized nipple. She rolled her body in sensual abandon, her hands pulling at the restraints. “You teasing bastard.”

She lifted her chest, straining for his mouth, and his cock tightened so hard he groaned. He’d never been this close to orgasm with a woman without her actually touching him.

Then he deliberately flicked his tongue across her nipple, the taste of her and the wine like a burst of electricity on his tongue. With an uncontrollable moan, he sucked her nipple into his mouth with a rough, strong pull. He worked it until she was writhing and thrashing, until every drop of the delectable wine was removed. Then he switched to her other one, taking her deep—deep enough that he could devour her.

Setting aside the bottle for a moment, he ran his tongue down to where her body cupped the wine. He lapped it up while he skimmed his fingers down her quivering belly to the top of her groin. Splaying his hands, he pushed her legs open to reveal to his hungry eyes the core of her sex. He ran his thumbs along her glistening folds, enjoying her intense moan and delectable shiver.

She was gloriously wet and about to get wetter.

He grabbed the bottle and ran the smooth glass neck along her mound and down to her hot pulsing center. She jerked in response. With deliberate slowness and
care, he slipped the mouth of the bottle into her, then said huskily, “Arch for me.”

When her hips moved, the champagne tipped and liquid rushed out, soaking her sex with the cool bubbly and sparkling froth.

His mouth clamped on to her and he tormented her with his tongue and mouth, licking, sucking at her sensitive flesh over and over again.

“Oh, damn,” she moaned, and the automatic movement of her pelvis tipped the bottle once more. She gasped as more champagne poured out. Jammer caught the wine and her, drinking both in.

Her breath came in little puffs of pleasure, her body writhing beneath his ministrations as her orgasm rushed toward her. He could feel it crest and beat against his mouth as the champagne splashed with her frantic movements. His body aching for her, he glided two fingers inside her, at the same time sucking her clit hard, then laving her with his tongue. She pulsed against his mouth, her hips jerking and arching as she cried out, her body bowing up from the rack and tugging at the restraints as her climax exploded.

Captured by the sheer beauty of Gina’s luminous pleasure, he let the almost-empty bottle go. His rock-hard cock throbbed in unison with her orgasm as he moved up her body and thrust into her as deeply as he could, the pleasure overtaking him, shredding his control. Her inner muscles contracted around him as he plunged into her without restraint.

He drove into her rough and fast, his pleasure build
ing and tearing along his cock with blinding need. When his release burst over him, he lost everything that he was—his heart, his body and his soul—to her.

H
OURS LATER,
Callie woke up in Jammer’s big bed, the memory of her time in the dungeon still tingling through her. The warm body tucked next to hers made her shift gently. It had been a while since she’d woken up next to a man. When it came to sex, she made sure it never occurred in her apartment. She needed the option to leave as soon as it became uncomfortable. Sort of a guy mentality, but closeness wasn’t something she had allowed herself in the past years. She scooted back and didn’t touch him, but let her gaze travel down his long body.

Jammer was a powerful man when clothed, exuding a charisma and confidence that made her knees weak. But with him fully naked, Callie saw that it wasn’t the clothes that made the man.

She noticed a multitude of scars—a couple left by bullets. Her hands itched to touch him. But she had some work to do.

Quietly, she slipped from the bed, gathered her things and went into the bathroom. She showered quickly. After
drying off, she tugged on a white, see-through mesh tank top and a pair of white lace boy-shorts underpants.

She went down to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and phone Damian again away from Jammer’s ears. The Irishman still hadn’t found anything on Jammer’s computer that could lead them to the Ghost, and he didn’t think he would with further scrutiny, so she was back to plan A. She brought a carafe and cups up with her to the bedroom. Just as she was settling into the chaise longue in the corner of the bedroom to stare at Jammer’s muscled-to-perfection body, her cell rang.

It was a contact she had in Belarus. He couldn’t get her what she needed.

Afterward, she tapped on the keys and put the phone again to her ear. It was picked up after two rings. The deep British voice on the other end of the line was a bit slurred.

“Speak.”

“Reggie, it’s Gina.”

“Hiya, love. You in London?”

“No, California.”

“Ah, too bad. You need sumthin’?”

“Yes, I do, Reggie.”

“Anythin’ for you, love.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I need seven or eight hundred surface-to-air missiles, five thousand AK-47 rifles, three million rounds of ammunition, land mines, night-vision goggles, plus some ultralight planes that can be equipped with grenade launchers and missiles.”

“Bugger me, that’s a tall order.”

“We needed them yesterday.”

“We?”

“I’m working with the Ghost’s guy, Jammer.”

“I’ve heard of him. Well, I can maybe do half that. I can’t get the missiles or the planes.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Consider it done.”

“We can be there by tomorrow.” Callie looked at her watch. “Say 11:00 a.m. your time? The usual spot?”

“Yes, just you and him. Right?”

“Just the two of us.”

“Tomorrow it is then, love. Cheerio.”

As soon as she completed the call, her phone rang again. When she answered, it was her contact in Italy, Alberto Bianchi. “
Ciao, bella.
I have heard that you wanted to speak with me.”

“I do.” Callie outlined what she was seeking, and Alberto said he could make up Reggie’s shortfall. But he couldn’t get his hands on the surface-to-air missiles or the planes, either.

“Do you know who can?” Callie asked.

When he named the person, Callie felt her stomach jump. The only arms dealer Callie would have avoided like the plague seemed to be the only one who could supply Jammer with what he needed on such short notice. The Italian told her that she’d have to see him tomorrow because he had a commitment. It forced Callie to call Reggie back to change their appointment to the end of the week.

She bit her lip, debating whether to dial the contact
that Alberto had named. She decided to wait and talk to Jammer about it before she made any firm plans.

Callie heard Jammer stir, and something shifted inside her when he reached for her in his sleep.

He woke with a start and instantly took in his surroundings. It seemed that the man was alert the moment he opened his eyes. When he saw her across the room, he sank into the pillows. Callie smiled from her vantage point near the French doors that opened onto a balcony. A soft morning breeze wafted through the room, caressing her bare shoulders and gently moving the white sheers near the doors.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling. “Hungry? We have coffee.” Reaching for the carafe, she poured him a cup.

“Why don’t you bring that over here?” he said.

She rose with the cup in her hand, automatically adding the right amount of cream. Then she grabbed a blueberry muffin and the itinerary, and made her way over to the bed.

She sat down and offered him the cup and the muffin. He sat up and accepted the coffee, taking a sip. “Anything else come with this muffin?” His gray eyes twinkled.

She leaned down and smiled. “Tons of calories, but—” she patted his flat, washboard abs “—I think you can handle it.”

He chuckled and bit off a chunk. “What else have you got there?”

“I’ve been busy,” she said. “While you were sleeping,
I set up buys in Rome and London with a couple of my contacts.”

“Who?”

“Alberto Bianchi and Reggie Smythe.”

“Bianchi I’ve heard of, but Smythe…can’t place him.”

“Well, your reputation precedes you. I got the full order except for the surface-to-air missiles and the planes. I’m still working on those.”

“Your contacts couldn’t supply them, Gina?”

“Alberto and Reggie can’t handle more than that. But it’s a good start. We’re better off than we were yesterday, and I haven’t even scratched the surface of my contacts.”

He nodded. “Okay, I trust you on this.”

She knew he did, and those words cut into her deeper than any words from a man she intended to arrest ever could. He trusted her, much to his folly. She had him hooked, and she’d reel him in and then she would…walk away and prepare for the next mission.

That was her reality, not this sunlit room, in this gorgeous house nestled in the breathtaking landscape of Southern California, with this enticing, drop-dead-dangerous man.

But she never missed a beat or dropped out of her Gina cover. She played her part to the fullest extent. “Good, because Reggie and Alberto will deliver what they promised. If they don’t, I’ll make them sorry, and I won’t need any help to do so.”

Jammer took another sip of his coffee and polished off the muffin. “I’ll help anyway.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the menacing tone in his voice.

He rose and set the cup on the nightstand, disappearing into the bathroom. While he showered, Callie stepped out on the balcony and updated Gillian on her progress.

She ended the call just as Jammer exited the bathroom. He climbed into a pair of black boxer briefs and blue jeans.

“This gunrunner in London. Does he have blond hair and a Cockney accent?”

“Yes. I thought you didn’t know him?”

“I don’t, just heard about him.”

He picked up the towel he’d dropped and vigorously rubbed his dark hair, leaving it in wet, tangled spikes.

“And?” she asked.

“Nothing bad that I remember. I just heard he has a thing for you.”

“All men have a thing for me. I know how to handle those ‘things’ with a quick jab of my knee.”

He laughed out loud. “Good. Then I won’t have to kill him.”

She eyed Jammer, trying to gauge whether he was serious or not. What she saw in his eyes sent another, more powerful shiver down her spine.

“Now, there’s no need for jealousy or violence. That’s never been a smart combination. I’m only interested in you, baby.” She felt the truth of her words resonate against her heartstrings. Her hands itched to touch him.

“I still don’t like it,” he said, giving the full effect of a lethal Jammer.

“Awww, come on, sweetie. You’re not going to make me regret getting you a firearm in London now, are you? The Brits don’t really appreciate us crazy Americans acting like we’re in the Wild West.” She pouted and then smiled as that look faded from his eyes. And the urge to touch him ratcheted up a notch.

“Don’t worry. You can be sure I’ll be locked and loaded.”

“Judging from my keen observation, baby, you don’t need a gun for that.”

Her gaze slid over him. The reality was far better than any fantasy she’d worked up during the few weeks they’d been separated. His heavy muscles stood out in stark relief as he picked up his cup and sipped his coffee, his eyes on her—not her body or anything else, but her face. It was intense; she felt it down to her bones. Her gaze slipped to his jeans. The top button was open. She wanted to peel those off and have her way with him. As if reading her mind, his mouth curved.

She reached out and smoothed her hands over his chest. “I’m really hating the airlines right now.”

Jammer set the cup down. “I take it we don’t have time because we’ve got a flight to catch?”

Her palms, hot from the warmth of his skin, tingled. The chemistry between them could cause a small fire—spontaneous combustion.

He bent down and she covered his mouth with a quick movement of her hand.

“Get packed,” she told him, recognizing the look in his eyes. “Guns, deals.”

“You’re all business, aren’t you?”

Smiling widely, she moved off the bed and squatted to grab her suitcase. “Get dressed, Jammer. Before I lose my business sense and peel you out of those jeans.”

But she didn’t get far. His warm hand slipped around her wrist and she found herself jerked up against him. His eyes locked to hers like a loaded gun. The experience of a fully aroused Jammer who wanted what he wanted was seductive, intimate and wholly unnerving.

“Jammer, the flight…”

Most of the time, she thought she had the tiger tamed, but at moments like this, when he exerted his formidable presence, Callie found that the taming was a complete and total illusion. What shocked her about him constantly was his ability to make her melt, when she knew in her brain that she shouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. From the instant she’d met him, she’d lost that cool, controlled persona that had protected her from situations exactly like this.

She was playing a dangerous game, but she just couldn’t seem to help herself. He made everything inside her come alive every second she was with him.

His mouth curved. “Who gives a fuck about the flight?”

Drawing a deep, measured breath to steady herself, she tilted her chin up and tried again. “We do. Remember Fuentes.”

“That bastard can go to hell,” he said. His tone dismissed the drug lord as if he was totally inconsequential. “Usually I prefer to take my time with you, Gina. Slow, long strokes that make you want to go crazy. But fast works for me, too.”

He held her gaze, his eyes dark and intense, mesmerizing. “You’re killing me with that outfit, and you expect me to keep my hands off you. You don’t want me to, do you?”

Her breath hitched and she ran out of air, just like that. Her breasts pressed firmly to him, tingling from the provocative heat of his rock-solid chest. Her pulse tripped all over itself, and anticipation coiled tight and low in her belly.

“I want to suck your nipples right through that pure white mesh. Take those hard, hot peaks, the color of cherries, into my mouth and taste you.”

“You are such a seductive bastard, but we don’t have time.…”

He leaned in, the clean, sharp smell of him making her lose her train of thought for a moment. Then it was totally lost when he said, “I bet you’re hot and deliciously wet right now. I bet my cock would glide in like greased lightning.”

She groaned and that was the end of his restraint. His mouth was scorching and demanding from the instant he assaulted hers, as if he was unleashing all the passion and hunger that he just couldn’t contain. It spilled over in his almost savage kiss. He kissed her deeply, his mouth pressing harder until she tasted blood, and she wasn’t sure if it was his or hers.

His hand fisted in her hair at her nape, while the other stroked down her spine and cupped her bottom and squeezed. Next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the bed. Her senses reeled as he loomed over her, looking tough and sexy. She could feel the
explosive energy coiling tighter and tighter inside his strong body.

His hands went to the thin straps of her top and dragged them down her arms until they caught in the crooks of her elbows and the mesh material bunched beneath her breasts. Without giving her time to breathe, he closed his blazing mouth over one firm nipple, then the other, using his tongue and teeth before sucking her hard and strong, and she cried out from the searing pleasure of it.

Her hips began to move against his, rubbing along his thickened erection, seeking relief from the growing, pulsing ache between her thighs. He swore and pulled his mouth from her breast, breathing heavily, his eyes electric.

“I need you inside, Jammer, inside.”

His nostrils flared, and with a low, rumbling growl he stripped off his jeans and boxers, then her lacy panties. Before she could take another breath, he rose over her, fitting himself between her thighs. There was nothing gentle about the way he plunged into her and filled her to the hilt, nothing sweet about his deep, driving thrusts.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he said with agony.

Her body embraced every inch of him, met him stroke for stroke, matching his erotic rhythm as it sped out of control.

He groaned and tossed back his head, arching into her, surging higher, grinding harder, moving faster until she was gasping for breath and swept into a devastating climax.

Growling low in his throat, he surrendered to his own fierce orgasm. His hips pressed her farther into the bed, then farther still, nearly crushing her with the violent force of his release. His breath ragged, he collapsed on top of her and buried his face against her neck.

“Really,” she said softly, against his brow. “Who gives a fuck about the flight?”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he mumbled into her throat, and they both erupted into laughter.

Callie was weak when it came to this one particular man, completely and utterly helpless to resist his allure, so unable to refuse him anything.

And that was going to cause her a wealth of heartache in the end.