Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,70

the same way. Soon his freight-flying target was going to get himself dead. Problem was, this guy was the keystone to what had gone down in Rome, so TJ needed him alive, and talking.

“You can’t get dead, dude,” he said, returning to the keyboard. “Not yet.”

It was time to do some serious work. He snagged a cold piece of pizza and popped open a warm soda, cracked his knuckles, and got down to the business of hacking.

Ana strode purposefully toward the patrol car, stopping about ten feet away. Both officers were rigidly attentive, watching her every move.

“Officers, I’m Agent Ana Burton, CIA,” she stated, keeping her hands clear of her raincoat, well away from her body. “I just wanted to let you know I was in for the night. And to thank you for your service.”

“You’re welcome, Agent, now get back in the car. You’re a target,” the driver replied.

She nodded her thanks, pivoted, and got back in the car. Damon took the vehicle smoothly up the drive and parked outside her building. He made no move to open her door, so she turned to Gates.

“Come in,” she said, making it a request, not a question. “I don’t think Dav expects you back tonight.” She opened the door herself, drew him out. “Come in.”

With a smile, he tapped the driver’s side glass. “Thanks, Damon. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Very good, sir,” he replied, never taking his eyes off the steering wheel. “I’ll wait till you get in.”

Ana skirted the back of the car and went up the steps, feeling Gates right behind her. It was like he was a furnace at her back, heat radiating out of him, warming her, making her feel safe. She fumbled with the keys, but only for a moment.

“Ana?”

“It’s okay.” She opened the door, took his hand to draw him in. “I want this. I want you.”

“I can just be here,” he said, pulling her close, leaning them both against the closed door. Keeping it light. “If that’s what you need,” he murmured into her hair, kissing her forehead like he would a child’s.

“Gates,” she whispered, feeling powerful, feeling as if nothing could touch her here, in his arms. “What I need is you, touching me, making me feel alive and whole. You touch me.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “You touch me, and it’s like I want to explode right there.”

He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin slightly so he could see her eyes in the dim light. “You’re sure?”

To answer him, she dropped her things to the floor, unfastened her coat, and let it slide away. Pressing him into the door with her body, she rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, just as he had kissed hers earlier, a whisper of a touch.

“I’m sure.”

He groaned and dragged her mouth to his, plundering and taking all she would give.

Just as eager, she fumbled with his belt, jerked the tail of his smooth dress shirt from his pants so she could run her hands up the heated skin of his back. He groaned into her mouth and pressed her into his body, imprinting the feel of his erection on the softness of her belly.

“Here,” she muttered, pulling off his suit jacket, tossing it toward her dining room chair as they moved backward together in a blistering sexual tango. Her own blazer followed, and he somehow managed not to pop the buttons on her shirt as he wrenched it open to feast on the curve of her neck, slide lower to press feathery kisses to the high mounds of her breasts that showed over her conservative bra.

“Your bed,” he demanded, picking her up, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist.

“There, down the hall to the right,” she gasped, bending now, from her higher vantage point, to kiss his neck, push his shirt as far off his shoulders as she could in order to taste him, scent him, feel the pulse hammer in his throat. That rapid-fire beat only fueled her desire for him.

His need, his almost frenetic pace was a balm to her soul; it filled some empty place inside her she hadn’t known existed. Feeling it, she could slow down, savor, touch.

“Shhhhh,” she soothed as he turned to lay her gently on the bed. God, he was strong, to lift her so easily, set her down with no strain or stress. “Come here, come to me,” she murmured drawing him with her.

They knelt, face to face