Incriminating Evidence (29 page)

She’d said something once about the smart thing versus the right thing. He knew being with Isabel might not be the smart thing—politically, she could ruin him—but she was, without a doubt, the right thing. Hell, she was the
only
thing.

She tugged at his T-shirt. “Off. Now.”

No sooner was the offending article gone than she was pulling apart the buttons at his fly. He stopped her. “No fair. I hit the bull’s-eye more than you did, and you have too many clothes on.”

“This is your reward for shooting so well. I’m going to taste you.”

Her words sent heat straight to his cock. He froze while she wriggled off the counter and dropped to her knees before him. She tugged down his jeans and briefs, freeing his erection in one swift motion.

This was unreal, a thousand fantasies coming true at once. He was with Isabel. In the firing range. And she was about to give him head. This had Penthouse Fantasy Forum stamped all over it.

She cupped his balls in one hand and slid her hand over his cock with the other. He groaned. Kneeling before him, she licked his erection from base to tip, then took him deep in her mouth in one smooth stroke. Pulling back, she sucked lightly on the tip. His balls tightened, and her fingernails grazed the sensitive sac. She slid forward, again taking him deep.

“Holy hell. Iz. That’s…incredible.”

She gazed up at him, her beautiful green eyes lit with wicked intent. The sight of her lips wrapped around his cock was nearly as hot as it felt. He pulled out of her mouth. No way was he going to let her make him come so soon. “Naked. We both need to be naked.”

He tugged her to her feet and lifted the hem of her shirt up, over her head. She wore a sexy, black lacy bra. It was almost a shame to take it off, but he needed to lick and taste every inch of her.

Bra removed, he sucked on a nipple as he unzipped her jeans and slid his hands inside, cupping her ass. She let out a sexy moan as her nipple hardened against his tongue.

Dammit,
his
clothes were in the way now. He scooted back and bent to untie his boots. In seconds, he had them off and shucked his jeans and briefs. She pushed him backward, to the bench along the wall, and knelt before him. Again she took him in her mouth. The slide of her lips was so intense. Perfect. Impossibly, his cock thickened even more.

“Iz, you’re not naked yet.”

Her mouth, that hot, incredible mouth, slipped off him long enough to say, “I don’t care,” then she took him deep, sucking all the way down.

He groaned and gripped her hair. “
I
care. Don’t you dare make me come. I need to come inside you.”

“No condoms. You can come in my mouth.”

Her hand circled the base of his cock as he thrust into her mouth. He was so close. So dangerously close. “Condoms. In my. Jeans. Pocket.”

She sucked on the tip a moment longer, then released him, still holding his rigid flesh in her hand. Her eyes were smoky. Hot. Erotic. “You really brought condoms? I figured you were joking. Because of the”—she glanced at the ceiling—“you know. Cameras.”

He laughed and leaned sideways, making sure to stay within the hot circle of her hand as he reached for the packet. “You must’ve figured out by now that I wasn’t about to let the cameras stop us.” He held up the condom. “Take off your jeans.”

Her smile was pure, sensual heat. She stood slowly. Her delicate hands brushed against her hips as she lowered the pants. “Wait. Turn around,” he said.

She complied. With her back to him, she bent over in an exaggerated pose, pushing down the jeans with her ass high in the air. He sucked in a guttural, gasping breath. She was perfect in every way.

And he was going to fuck her brains out until she forgot every bad thing that had ever happened to her.

He reached for that beautiful ass, raised high above her head. With one finger, he slid the crotch of her panties aside. His tongue found her opening and dipped inside. She was tangy and hot. He groaned and tasted her again, then shifted his tongue forward, finding her clitoris and licking until she whimpered with need.

He leaned back. “Take it all off. Now.”

She stood and kicked off her shoes and jeans. Panties dropped next. She turned to face him and he took in her beautiful, naked body. Red curls hid her hot, delicious clit. Firm, round breasts with ripe, pink nipples begged to be tasted again. He wanted to savor this, to slowly drink in every inch of her.

And he wanted to fuck her hard and fast with equal urgency.

He dropped to his knees before her. He’d take it slow. Enjoy her breasts and work his way down. But no sooner did he have his mouth over a nipple and his fingers pressed to her clit than she moaned his name and rocked her hips into the pressure of his fingers. “Alec. I want you inside me. Now.”

Okay, maybe the first time would be fast and hot. They could go slow later. In his bed.

He stood. She turned, kicked down the long, low bench tucked under the shooting range counter that served as a sturdy step stool, and planted her feet on it in a wide stance. She leaned against the counter, offering her ass to him in the most glorious invitation he’d ever received.

No. This wouldn’t be slow lovemaking. This was going to be a hot, hard fuck all the way. He tore open the packet and slid on the condom, then stepped behind her. With the bench, she was at the perfect height. He pressed his erection against her slick opening. “Is this how you want me?” he asked. He reached around and touched her clitoris.

She gasped and panted, “Yes. Please.”

With one hand on her breast and the other at her clit, he buried his lips against her neck and thrust forward, penetrating her in one swift, intense stroke.

She felt amazing. Pure, hot, adrenaline-filled sex with the brilliant, gorgeous woman who’d saved his life. She clenched down on him, and he groaned at the sweet pressure.

“Iz….” But that was all he was capable of saying as he thrust into her tight heat again. She pressed back against him, and his fingers found the rhythm that made her moan as pleasure built.

The intensity of his feelings for her infused each sensation. This was so much more than a hot screw, but the physical thrill kept him grounded in the moment, and heightened his awareness as they rocked with their bodies locked together in the narrow, cavernous space.

Her husky moans echoed back down the lane, making him impossibly hard as he slid inside her hot body. “Come, sweetheart,” he murmured against her neck.

She smelled of sweet, flowery soap, gunpowder, and sex. She fit in his arms like a dream, all soft skin and curves as he massaged her clit with his fingers. He was so damn close to coming. The buildup so intense, his orgasm would be powerful. White-hot. But he refused to come before she did. No way. The little hellcat who’d been a burr in his side for months would know satisfaction before he did.

Isabel’s body began to quake with orgasm. Her moans filled the room, vanquishing the last of his control. A hard, powerful release slammed into him. He stilled his fingers on her clit, pressing to continue her climax as he thrust into her, rocked by the intensity.

Her orgasm continued long past his. Spent, he leaned down to nuzzle her neck while wiggling the fingers planted on her clitoris.

She trembled. “Stop. I can’t.” She gasped. “Take. Anymore.”

He kissed the smooth skin at the nape of her neck. “Oh, honey, you’re getting more.” He breathed deep, then nipped her shoulder. “As soon as I can move again. You’re getting more. Just give me four…no, make that five minutes.”

She laughed. “You’ve impressed me already. No need to kill yourself.”

“Good. Then we’ll make it ten. Just enough time to get dressed and go up to my quarters so I can strip you again. I want you in my bed.” He slid out from her and lifted his weight from her hips.

She twisted in his arms until they were chest to chest. Her incredible green eyes were warm with satisfied hunger, and her smile lit a fire dangerously close to his heart. She caressed his face, her fingers playing with the stubble on his cheek. “That was…something. I think you’ve cured my fear of basements and pretty much everything else.”

He grinned. “As a politician, it’s unwise for me to make promises I can’t keep.”

T
rue to his word, no sooner were they back in Alec’s suite than Isabel was drowning in pleasure. While the sex had been hot and fast in the firing range, the second time he insisted on going slow. He touched, tasted, and explored every part of her, making her come until she couldn’t take any more.

After days of being the focus of his deliberate, unwavering seduction, it was no surprise to discover he made love with the same intensity he applied to everything else. Afterward, they lay chest to chest. Her heart gradually slowed as she stared into his incredible blue eyes. “Well,” she said softly, “you’ve got my vote.”

He laughed, his eyes creasing around the corners. This was a man who smiled a lot, and it was genuine, not a politician out to win over the masses. She loved his smile. His laugh. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to love everything about him.

This feeling of contentment was utterly new for her. She had a bad habit of bolting after sex, developed after a life of aversion to putting down roots. But with Alec, she wanted to stay. Wanted to sleep in his bed. Wanted to face him in the morning.

It was an odd feeling, this desire for intimacy that had nothing to do with the joining of bodies. She wanted to
know
him. What made him tick? What made him laugh? What made him cry?

And, more shocking than anything, she wanted him to know her.

He was Alec Ravissant, owner of Raptor. But maybe he could be just Alec?
My Alec
. No one here called him by his first name. Calling him Alec felt intimate. Special. Akin to his calling her Iz. Vin had called her Izzy, but no one ever called her Iz—probably because she so often held people at a distance. But distance hadn’t been possible with Alec.

It meant something to her that her big brother had met him and tried to fix them up, even if it had been a joke. Vin would never have made the joke if, deep down, he hadn’t approved of the man.

“Why did you join the Army?” she asked, surprised to realize she honestly had no idea. He’d told her he’d been raised for politics, not the military.

He pulled her snug against his side and stared up at the ceiling as he spoke. “My mom always wanted me to get into politics. Always. It wasn’t even a question. My childhood was basically ‘eat your peas and study the long-term effects of the Bay of Pigs’ or other political standoffs that changed the world. I hate peas, but the political history was interesting. My dad did a stint as a congressman—he served three terms when I was really young. I think my mom imagined a Ravissant dynasty, like the Roosevelts or Kennedys.”

“Not like the Bushes or Clintons?”

“No. My mom had a preference for old-money dynasties.”

“You come from that kind of money, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Old wealth. The railroad-baron kind. Added to and expanded thanks to smart investments in communication technology over the decades. From the telegraph to the smartphone, my family has always owned a piece.” He glanced down at her. “I’m not saying that like it matters—I mean, there are plenty of people in my parents’ world for whom how old the money is
does
matter. But I didn’t belong in that world. I still don’t.”

She couldn’t imagine the life he was born into. After her parents died and Vin was the lowest private in the Army, she wouldn’t have had protein on a daily basis if it hadn’t been for food stamps. The idea of growing up in extreme wealth—where how seasoned the money was mattered—was beyond foreign.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, stroking her back. “I’m not going to whine or complain about how difficult it was to grow up rich, because it wasn’t. I had warm, wonderful parents and a great childhood. They had big dreams for me—but they were reasonable, given our means. If it hadn’t been for fertility issues, there’d have been plenty of brothers and sisters to share the expectation load. I wouldn’t even have been the oldest. I was my mother’s fourth pregnancy but their only child.”

“That must have been so hard for her.”

“I think it’s one of the reasons she freaked out when I joined the Army. She’d grieved so much already. She was terrified of losing me.”

“So why did you join?”

“Partly to find out what struggle meant.”

His answer surprised her. “What do you mean?”

“I’d lived my entire life in a protective bubble. Expectations for me were high, but I have a good brain, so I could live up to them. Academics weren’t hard. I went to the right prep schools. I
earned
my place in Harvard—and no, that wasn’t easy, I worked my ass off to get there—and I graduated on schedule with a degree in political science. As expected, Harvard Law accepted me. Again, I earned it, but also, without concerns about money, I could devote my time to studying. It wasn’t like I had to work my way through school. My life had followed the proscribed path, without a single ripple.

“Then I woke up one day and realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go to law school. Hell, I was a kid. Twenty-one, and I’d never made a decision of my own. I didn’t even know if I
wanted
to be a lawyer. To be a politician.”