Patriot Threat. Steve Berry

hell were you thinking back there?’

      ‘In reference to…?’

      She shot him a venomous look which would have felled a lesser man. ‘We are not reconciling.’

      ‘Then perhaps you can explain why you were totally with me in every sense of the word.’

      The thing was she had been…so totally lost she’d had no awareness of anything except him.

      Be honest. She’d wanted to tear his clothes off and eat him alive.

      ‘So, you kiss very well.’ It was a totally inadequate protestation, and she heard a husky sound emerge from his throat that sounded suspiciously like subdued laughter.

      ‘You choose to imagine that’s all it was? Sensual expertise?’

      No, she admitted wretchedly. It was so much more than that, and the knowledge blew her mind.

      ‘Yes.’

      The car slowed and he used a remote to open the gates, then again to open the garage. As he cut the headlights, the garage lights sprang on and the exterior door folded down.

      In one smooth movement he released his seat belt and turned towards her.

      ‘Liar,’ Raúl accused quietly as he cradled her face and covered her mouth with his own.

      Her initial protest died as he coaxed her lips apart and began exploring the soft tissues with gentle expertise.

      Warmth invaded her veins, firing her nerve-ends until she felt every cell bloom sensually alive, and with a faint sigh she simply gave herself up to the magic only he could create.

      The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, and she was barely aware of his hand caressing her thigh while the other shaped her breast.

      She was unaware of her hands reaching for him, sliding the buttons free from his shirt as she sought warm skin and taut musculature.

      ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Deep husky words filled with passionate intent as he slid free from the car, then crossed to the passenger side and drew her unresisting to her feet.

      A faint gasp left her throat as he slid an arm beneath her knees and swung her into his arms.

      ‘Put me down,’ she protested weakly as he entered the foyer and carried her upstairs to her suite, then closed the door behind them.

      Heat pulsed through her veins, setting her body on fire…for him, only him. The sane, sensible part of her issued a silent warning her emotional heart chose to ignore. She needed this, him, with every breath she took, and she defied rational thought as her hands sought to remove his jacket, loosen his tie, then tear hurriedly at the buttons on his shirt…aware he was equally bent on dispensing with her clothes.

      Skin, just skin…warm, fluid muscle and sinew. She revelled in the feel of him, the clean male musky scent mingling with the exclusive tones of his cologne.

      His hand trailed low over her stomach and sought her moist heat, the acutely sensitive clitoris…he sensed her intake of breath as he skilfully brought her to orgasm.

      Eroticism at its pinnacle…shameless and wildly primitive…and at that moment she couldn’t see, only feel, with the desperate need for fulfilment.

      More. She wanted so much more. Now. It had to be now, or she’d die.

      She linked her hands at his nape and in one agile movement straddled his hips, instinctively arching in against his arousal as he cupped her bottom to hold her there.

      His mouth sought hers as he invaded the inner depths, searching delicate tissues, savouring the taste and feel of her…teasing the highly sensitised heat as he moved her against the length of his arousal…until she closed the edge of her teeth over his tongue in silent urgency for his possession.

      Which he gave, positioning her as he slid in carefully, stilled, then thrust in deep…absorbing her cry as he held her there, aware her heartbeat thudded in unison with his own.

      It wasn’t enough… He wanted her in bed, under him, at his mercy as he drove her wild.

      A few steps was all it took, and he disengaged, tore back the bedcovers in one easy movement, then tumbled them both down onto the sheeted mattress.

      His mouth sought the sensitive curve at the edge of her neck, then traced a path to her breast, moistened the tender peak and drew it into his mouth. He heard the breath hitch in her throat as he tugged hard, and he softened his touch as her nails pressed into his biceps.

      Not content, he trailed light kisses to her waist, lingered at her navel, then with lazy appreciation moved slowly down to settle at the apex of her thighs.

      Her body quivered as he blew gently against the sensitive flesh, then sought the honeyed cleft, traced it with the tip of his tongue, bestowed an open-mouthed kiss… Then he sought the satiny entrance and delved deep, only to retreat and graze the clitoris until she shattered beneath his touch.

      With one easy movement, he shifted and began trailing soft kisses down one inner thigh to her knee and back again, before inching slowly to her breast.

      Her hands, which had been digging into the mattress, moved to clasp his hips…and it was he who felt the breath hitch in his throat as she enclosed his arousal, stroked him, then eased to cup him.

      ‘Careful, querida, he warned her gently as he nipped the swollen peak with the edge of his teeth…only to chuckle quietly as she grasped his head and dragged his mouth to her own in a kiss that took passion to new heights.

      It was then he entered her in a slow, deep slide that drew a soft moan from her throat as her muscles tightened, gripping him as she urged him to quicken the pace, demanding as he lost himself in deep, powerful thrusts that rocked them both as they soared high…so high. She simply held on as he took her to the edge, suspended her there, then tipped her over in a glorious free-fall that left them both dragging breath into their lungs.

      Sated, and deliciously replete, she held him close, murmuring indistinctly as she rested in his embrace.

      His, indisputably his.

      As he was hers…had been from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. She’d intrigued him…he who’d become jaded with the women of his acquaintance. Mostly sycophants who imagined being attractive arm candy and receptive in bed would gain them entry into his world…for a time.

      Gianna had been different. Alive, sparkling…unutterably sweet, and honest, with a dry wit he’d found remarkably refreshing. No hidden agenda, and equally at ease with his high-powered lifestyle. She’d taught him to lighten up, to laugh a little…and to love with his heart, his soul.

      He’d proposed, gifted her his ring, for marriage had been a given…just a matter of organising a day, a time.

      Her accidental pregnancy had delighted him, precipitating the wedding. But the unforeseen miscarriage had been followed soon after by Sierra’s damnably false innuendos…and Gianna had slipped to a place where he’d been unable to reach her.

      ‘Sleep,’ he bade her gently, and he watched her lashes drift down.

      ‘You should leave.’

      He pressed a light kiss to her temple and nestled her close in against him. ‘Later.’

      Except it was she who stirred in the early pre-dawn hours to the light trail of his mouth as he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat. She who uttered little protest as he made love to her again…a slow, gentle loving that was all her pleasure, after which he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the en suite bathroom, where he shared her shower, teasing her with the soap before gifting it to her to return the favour.

      Which she did, so caught up in the thrall of him and what they’d shared that she refused to think.

      This…this