The Spy Who Loves Me (9 page)

His finger slipped over her slick heat, his touch dead-on perfect, and a crest of pure pleasure washed over her. A low noise filled her ears, and she realized the moan came from her.

She'd never lost control like this. Never let down that barrier between what her body wanted and how far she let it go. But she'd dropped that barrier with Finn, and so easily, too.

And now there was no way back. Not, at least, until she'd come and could finally, maybe, think again. Until then, she was at his mercy, and frankly, she didn't much care.

His whispers, urging her to come for him, caressed her, and she latched onto the words, her entire body tensing as she climbed higher and higher toward the ultimate release. She held her breath as his finger moved faster and faster, the pressure perfectly placed. “Right there,” she breathed. “Don't stop.”

“I'm not stopping for anything,” he said.

And as he spoke, her entire body seemed to explode. She held onto his shoulders, riding the crest of the orgasm, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

When it passed, she collapsed against him, her body limp. He stroked her back as her mind started to clear.

“Thanks,” he said.

She lifted her head just long enough to lift an eyebrow in question. “For what?” she said. “I'm the one who should be thanking you.”

“For letting me drive,” he said simply.

A knot of tension formed in Amber's stomach, and she pressed close to him again, afraid he'd read something in her face. She hadn't let him drive on purpose, but she'd been helpless against his onslaught.

No, that wasn't true. She could have kept a piece of herself tucked away.
She hadn't wanted to
. She'd wanted to lose herself to this man, and that was the most unsettling part of all.

The rush of adrenaline that Finn's touch sent through her body was rivaled only by the times she'd piloted an F-14 or rappelled down the side of Menara Petronas I in Kuala Lumpur. Each an all-consuming rush. The kind of thrill that kept her alive, that reminded her why she wanted to live in the first place.

To find that same thrill in a man's arms was both exhilarating and terrifying. Especially in the arms of
this
man, a dark, sensual enigma who made her blood burn with little more than a look.

And, even more, a man who still remained a mystery.

She'd let herself go, true. She'd lost herself in the moment, yes. But she wasn't about to indulge in useless recrimination. No, she'd simply take back the control, keep a tighter hold, and not let go—not like that—again.

“Amber?”

She didn't answer. Just leaned over and took the door handle and pushed it open.

A grin spread across Finn's face. “Need a little fresh air?”

Amber just cocked an eyebrow and slipped off his lap and into the outdoors. She kept hold of his hand and silently urged him to follow. “The view,” she said.

In the distance, the sun reflected off the vibrant water of the Pacific. They couldn't see the beach, but they could hear the roar of the surf pounding against the rocks below. “It's beautiful,” Finn said, his eyes focused not on the ocean but on her. “Are we searching for a scenic overlook?”

“Not exactly,” Amber said. The lot sloped down toward the cliff, then flattened out again. She cast a glance over the ground, then led him to a smooth, grassy area. “I've seen views before,” she said, turning to face him. “But there's something I haven't done yet.”

His eyes were knowing. “I can't imagine what.”

“Don't worry. No imagination required. This one's going to be pure reality.” She nodded at the ground. “Sit.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He sat, his legs out in front of him, his hands behind him for balance. Amber turned to face him, her legs planted on either side of his hips. “I don't want to seem ungrateful,” she said. “But there's something I want.”

“And you're just going to take it.”

“Hell yes,” she said. In one swift move she pressed the ball of her foot against his chest, pushing him back onto the grass.

“Am—”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Not a word.” She knelt over him, her knees firm against the ground, her inner thighs pressed against his jeans. The top two buttons of his fly were still open, and she made short work of the rest of them.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what it is you want.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Darling, if you can't figure it out, I've got some serious doubts about your intelligence.”

“Actually,” he said, “I just might have an idea.” He took her hand and tugged her down toward him.

Amber relaxed into the motion, letting him flip them over until he was straddling her. “Very good,” she said with a laugh. “You're thinking along the right lines.”

“Let's see if I can stay on track,” he said. His hand stroked her face, his fingers tracing her lips. She licked the tip of his finger, taking the entire digit into her mouth, stroking and caressing it with her tongue.

Finn moaned, his eyes closing as she drew his finger in and out, in and out. An erotic rhythm that was starting with her lips and spreading like wild-fire through her entire body.

When she stopped, he groaned in protest, but she only smiled, her eyes meeting his. “Lose the shirt,” she said.

He didn't argue. Just shifted position so he could undo the row of buttons, then tugged it off. His chest was perfect, hard and ridged, with just a smattering of midnight black hair.

“Nice,” she said.

“Glad you approve.” He fingered the hem of her sweater. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

“Ah-ah,” she said. “My rules, remember?”

“Maybe I'm not as intelligent as I thought,” he retorted. “Because I don't think we can manage what I thought you wanted if you're still wearing that outfit.”

“Trust me, Mr. Teague. We'll manage just fine.” This time, she flipped him, kicking her leg up and using his body weight as leverage to get him under her on the grass. It was a nice move, one not many women probably knew, and from his expression, she could see he was suitably impressed.

“I was right,” he said. “You do like to be in charge.”

“I owned up to that,” she said. “You don't have a problem with strong women, do you?”

“Only if they don't follow through,” he said.

“Well, then,” she said, “you've got nothing to worry about.” She grabbed her sweater and tugged it over her head, tossing it on top of Finn's shirt. With Finn's eyes on her, she reached behind and unfastened her bra, adding it to the pile.

The sun was stil high in the sky, and the wind carried the faint hum of traffic from the Pacific Coast Highway. But other than that, only the crash of waves against the shore below filled the air.

She was straddling him, her sex right over his erection, so that he could feel every tiny move she made, and she could feel him harden beneath her. “Touch me,” she demanded. And he did. His warm hands cupped her breasts as she tilted her head back, her eyes closed, letting the thrill of his touch zip through her like electricity. She might be taking control, but that damn sure didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself.

His palms grazed her nipples, the touch so light as to be near torture. A million sparks shot down from her breasts to her clit. She'd been ready since he'd made her come, and now her sex throbbed, wanting him inside her with an intensity she didn't remember feeling for any other man. But not yet. Not that fast. She wanted to take this slow. Wanted to know that he was as desperate for her as she was for him. More, even.

In one fluid motion, she straightened, tracing her hand down her neck, then pushing his hand aside so she could snake a path between her breasts and down to the waistband of her pants.

“Watch,” she whispered as she reached to her hip to pull down the side zipper, loosening the pants enough so that she could slide her fingers inside.

Finn's eyes met hers, and she saw desire burning there. “You're killing me,” he said.

She just smiled, arching her back as she balanced one hand on his thigh, the other cupping and stroking her sex. She was wet, her panties drenched, her breath coming in little gasps as she slipped a finger inside, avoiding her all-too-sensitive clit. She didn't want to come, not yet. Not without Finn inside her.

Finn groaned, and she could feel him stiff and hard beneath her. “Do you like that?” she asked.

“If you're trying to torture me, you're doing a good job.”

“Not torture,” she said, sitting up and sliding both hands up his chest. “Anticipation.”

“I don't know if I can survive much more anticipation.”

She brushed her lips against his ear. “You don't have to.”

She stood up, straddling his waist as she peeled the pants, adding them to the growing pile of their clothing. Then she lowered herself over him and slid backward down his body, her hands tugging his jeans and boxers down as he kicked off his shoes. His erection jutted free, and she licked the tip, just enough to tease, as he tugged his jeans the rest of the way off.

As soon as his clothes were tossed aside, she straddled him, still wearing her panties. Finn made a low growling noise, reaching between her legs to shove the crotch piece aside.

“No,” she whispered. “Rip them off.”

He did. And as the sound of the material ripping hung in the air, she plunged her body down, taking him deep inside her.

Her body tightened around him, and she rode him in slow, practiced movements, watching his face as the passion built. He hardened even more, his cock swelling to fill her, and she took his hand from her hip, pressing his fingers against her mound.

He didn't need any more encouragement, and his fingers found her clit, stroking and coaxing in soft, subtle movements even as she rode him hard. The combination of sensations, soft and wild, hard and gentle, whipped through her. The urge to let go overwhelmed her. But she fought it, willing to lose herself to the wild heat of sex, but not to lose herself completely.

The whirlwind built inside her, lifting her to the pinnacle but not quite taking her over the edge. Finn tensed beneath her, his face tightening and his body quivering. He was close, so close, and Amber let go, letting the storm inside her explode into a million pieces as Finn groaned beneath her, bursting with a storm of his own that both filled and satisfied her.

Sated, Amber sagged on top of him, then rolled to her side as he spooned against her.

“I think I approve of what you wanted,” he said.

“I thought you might.”

His arm tightened around her waist and she closed her eyes, satisfied. This time she'd kept control.
She'd won
. But as she pressed against him, exhausted but victorious, she couldn't help but wonder if, in winning, she'd lost a little bit, too.

It was a question she didn't examine closely, instead simply shutting her eyes and pressing tight against him, the heat of his body as intense as the heat from the afternoon sun.

“If we don't move,” Finn finally said, “we're going to be sunburned in places I'd rather not be burned.”

Amber pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I suppose putting our clothes back on is in order. And then what? Back home?”

Finn leaned over her, a world of playfulness in his eyes. “Actually, sweetheart, I had another idea. How about letting me show you a different kind of thrill?”

T
he little shit was tailing her!

Diana couldn't believe it, but somehow she'd managed to pick up a tail. She reached up, adjusting her rearview mirror and setting the magnification factor Drake had installed to four-hundred percent.

The driver was three cars back, but still she managed to focus in on his face. She squinted at the image now looming large in the mirror. She'd seen him before. But where…?

And then she realized. The spa. The creep following her was their hunky spa attendant.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel even while her teeth worried at her lower lip. She wasn't concerned that he'd overheard her conversation with Drake. They'd been alone during their talk. But she certainly didn't need to risk the guy finding out her secrets by following her to Poindexter's house.

The odds were her tail was just a horny male who'd gotten a look at Diana's boobs slathered in mud. Now she had an admirer and he was insistent on following her to the ends of the earth. Easily dealt with. There wasn't a man on the planet—except Drake—that Diana couldn't intimidate the hell out of.

At the same time, though, she had to be smart about this. The guy was
probably
just an oversexed spa attendant, but she couldn't discount the possibility that he had other reasons for watching her. Like maybe someone was paying him off. And if that was the case, she needed to make absolutely certain that he didn't report back to whoever was pulling his strings.

Determined, she flipped on her blinker and crossed over two lanes of traffic to the access road. He followed, of course, and when she pulled into a nearby Ralph's grocery store, he parked one row away.
Perfect.

She got out of the car, swung her purse over her shoulder, and headed inside. Rather convenient, really. After all, she really ought to show up at Poindexter's door bearing wine.

 

Brandon leaned against the ATM machine, watching Diana Traynor pick out a bottle of wine. Apparently that was a long, involved process, because it took her a good fifteen minutes to settle on a red wine from one of the shelves labeled
FRANCE
. He couldn't see the label, which was too bad. Brandon was always on the lookout for a good bottle of wine.

A uniformed security guard glanced at him, probably calculating the odds of Brandon trying to rob the ATM. Brandon flashed a smile, his eyes drifting casually over the rows of cash registers.

As soon as Diana stepped into the express checkout line, Brandon eased out the door, imagining the guard exhaling in relief as he passed. A few seconds later, the lady emerged behind, her eyes fixed on her car. Brandon slipped into the Buick and turned the key. The engine purred to life, and he gripped the steering wheel, keeping the car in gear while he waited to see what direction she took.

She exited onto Magnolia, and he shifted into reverse, planning on following. But a tapping at his window stopped him. He turned to face the security guard. Brandon closed his eyes, allowing himself one brief
oh shit
moment. Then he hit the button to roll down the window. “How can I help you, officer?”

“Would you step out of the car?”

Brandon flashed his
who me?
grin. “Is there a problem?” A stupid question. Of course there was a problem. And he knew exactly what it was—Diana had made his tail. And she'd set this little pit bull on him.

“Just shut off the engine and get out of the car, please.”

Brandon considered gunning it and burning rubber on his way out of the parking lot. But he dismissed the idea. Officer Happy there had probably never fired his firearm, but he had the look of a man itching to do so. And the parking lot was bustling with civilians and children.

With a nod, he turned the key, killing the engine. Then he stepped out of the car and faced the officer.

“Lady says you've been harassing her. Says you flashed her in the parking lot and then followed her inside. I saw you eyeing her myself.” The officer stood up straighter, his hand on the butt of his gun and a sneer on his face. The victim of one too many bad cop films. “You're going down, buddy. The D.A.'s got a hard-line policy on indecent exposure.”

Brandon had to hand it to Diana. The lady had spunk. Not only had she delayed him, but she'd ensured he'd get suckered into hours of procedural bullshit.

Eventually, he'd get out of this mess, of course. But by the time he did, Diana would be long gone.

And so would his only opportunity for discovering Poindexter's identity.

 

“You doing okay up there?” Amber heard Finn's voice filtering through the intercom; the man himself was in the cockpit behind her.

She tossed the headphone aside long enough to remove the leather helmet. Her hair streamed out behind her, caught in the prop wash, and she laughed, tossing her hands up above her head in pure joy. “Okay?” she repeated, donning the headphones again. “I'm fabulous!”

They were cruising at an altitude of about one thousand feet, and Amber couldn't have been happier. Finn's idea of a thrill suited her just fine.

“Yeah? Well, then you're going to love this. Hold on!”

The biplane started a climbing turn, transitioning nicely into a descending turn before climbing again. Amber had to grin. Finn was doing a lazy eight, a sexy maneuver, but hardly enough to appease her appetite.

“Not bad,” she said, her voice laced with a tease. “But is that the best you can do?”

“You wound me, babe,” he said, the suggestion clear in his voice. “I thought I already showed you just how much more I can do.”

Amber laughed. “Yeah? Well, show me what you can do in the air.”

Even as she spoke, the nose of the plane started to climb, and Amber clutched the smooth leather side of the cockpit, the shoulder harness keeping her firmly in place. Higher and higher, and as Finn aimed the nose back in the direction they'd come, Amber realized he was executing a loop. She let out a whoop for good measure, completely delighted with Finn's idea of showing her a good time. Sunlight glimmered on the fuselage, and as Finn completed the loop, the biplane passed through its own prop wash, shivering slightly as if she, too, found the maneuver exhilarating.

When Finn had suggested another thrill, Amber had expected a speedy return to Los Angeles and the hedonistic comfort of his bed. So when Finn had driven south to the private airstrip just outside San Diego, she'd been totally and completely blown away.

She'd known, of course, that he had a pilot's license. What she hadn't expected was that he'd use that skill as a dating tool. Even more, when Brandon had given her the rundown on Finn, he hadn't mentioned that her neighbor was proficient in biplanes—much less aerobatics.

All in all, a nice little surprise.

She'd known from the get-go that this assignment wouldn't be painful. Finn, after all, ranked up there on her eye candy chart, and the background check had revealed enough about his relationships to suggest that he knew his way around a woman, an assessment he'd confirmed that afternoon. But what the dossier hadn't conveyed was the rest of it. Like how he made her laugh, or how he kept surprising her.

Maybe she'd just been too long without a lay, but this mission couldn't have come at a better time. Or with a better man.

“Look to your left,” he said.

She complied, and was rewarded with a stunning view of dolphins frolicking in the waves off the San Diego shoreline.

“Do you want to fly her?” he asked.

She did, desperately. She hadn't flown a plane since her last stint in an F-14. But that wasn't the role she was playing. She shook her head. “I better not,” she said. “I wouldn't know what to do.”

“Nothing to it. It's dual control. Your control stick is attached to mine, and I won't let you do anything that would scare me.”

“Well, with an offer like that, how could I say no?”

She started to take control, then remembered that she was supposed to be clueless. “Um, so what do I do?”

“Just take a hold of the stick,” he said. “I know you can handle that.”

She grinned. “Right you are.”

“You want her to respond to the lightest of touch. Don't force it. Just take it gentle.”

“We're still talking about flying, right?”

“For now,” he said. “But hold that thought.”

An unintended bubble of laughter welled in her throat, and Amber sat up straighter, unable to remember when she'd had such a good time. God, she loved being behind the controls.

“You're doing great,” he said.

Looking left, she banked slightly, gazing down to the Pacific below.

“Easy there,” he said.

“Don't you trust me?”

“Only as far as I can throw you.”

“Ye of little faith,” she protested. She knew she was showing off, but she couldn't help it, and she pulled the plane into a tight turn, completing a three-sixty before she leveled out again.

“Whoo-hoo!” Finn yelled from behind her. “That was great. You sure you've never flown before?”

“Beginner's luck, I guess,” Amber said, dodging the question. “I told you I like being in control.”

“Uh-huh.” He sounded more than a little dubious, and she couldn't blame him.

“Show me something else,” she said, changing topics. Not particularly subtle, but it did the trick. Finn took control, finishing their aerial tour of the coastline with a flourish. All Amber had to do was sit and watch and think. A nice change, actually. She was so used to running and doing. To being the one in charge. And she would be again soon enough. So she might as well enjoy her fifteen minutes of freedom while she had them.

They roamed the skies, exploring San Diego Bay and doing twists and turns over Torrey Pines. All too quickly, Finn spoke again. “Ready to head on back?”

“No,” she said. “But I suppose we should.”

They landed about five minutes later, then taxied toward the hangar at the far side of the private landing strip. Finn got out first, stepping onto the wing walk before hopping down to the ground.

Amber climbed out next, standing up and brushing the tips of her fingers on the ribs and trailing edge of the top wing before climbing out onto the wing walk herself. She grasped a strut for balance, then took Finn's outstretched hand and jumped to the grass airstrip.

“That was great,” she said. “Can we go again?”

“You kids have fun?” Tom, the biplane's owner, strode over.

“Fabulous,” Amber said. “How old is she?”

“Built in twenty-seven,” he said. “The same month Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic. Finn here has a logbook of hours in this wonderful old bird.”

“So how do you two know each other?” Amber asked. The relationship was clearly a close one. Finn had simply driven up to the hangar, stuck his head in the door, and told the older man that he wanted to take the plane up. Tom hadn't even blinked.

“I've known that boy since he was in diapers,” Tom said. “His daddy and I flew choppers in Korea together. We even bought a surplus Bell chopper and fixed it up for tourist flights, then decided biplanes had more cachet. This one we bought back in eighty-eight and got her completely restored by ninety-two. There's only about fifty Travel Airs still in any condition to fly, and she's one of them.” He looked at Finn. “Your dad had three good years of flying her before the cancer got him.”

Finn nodded. “And he loved every minute of it.”

“I bought out Anthony's half when his medical bills started piling up,” he said to Amber. He clapped Finn on the shoulder. “But this plane will come back to the Teague family. I don't have any kids of my own.”

“Nonsense,” Finn said. “You've got me. Even without the blood relation, I'm a handful, and you know it.”

Tom laughed. “True enough.” He turned to Amber. “How about you, young lady? Love it or hate it?”

“Love it,” Amber said, trying to remember the last time anyone had called her a young lady.

“Well, then you're all right.”

“Thanks,” Amber said, realizing as she spoke that the sentiment was genuine. “That means a lot to me.”

 

They spent another forty minutes with Tom shooting the breeze, and throughout the entire time, Finn paced in front of the battered gray desk. He was antsy and out of sorts, half of him wanting to get Amber alone, the other half wanting to show her off to this man who'd been like a father to him.

He'd known her for such a short time, but already the woman had bewitched him.

“Sun's gonna be settin' in half an hour,” Tom said. “You two want to wait and take her up again?”

Finn shook his head. While the view of the sun slipping into the Pacific would be truly spectacular, he wanted more than just the view. He wanted Amber in his arms again, and that just wasn't possible if she was an entire cockpit in front of him, the turtledeck separating them as effectively as miles. “I thought we'd watch the sunset from the ground,” he said. He took Amber's hand, delighted when she squeezed back. “That okay with you?”