Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender. Cara Summers
“Why are we always in such a hurry?” he asked.
Her lips were parted, moist and stained cherry-red. He leaned in for another sample. Heat shimmered. The moment it threatened to flare, he drew back.
“No.” The plea came out on a sigh.
The sight of her, aroused and at his mercy, excited him in a way that hadn’t happened before. Watching only her eyes, he skimmed his fingers higher up the inside of her thigh until he could touch the lace of her panties. This time he intended to go slowly. “Tell me more about your plan.”
Natalie sucked in a breath and wished that she could gather her thoughts just as quickly. There was some important point that she had to make. But she couldn’t quite grasp hold of it.
“Or you could just let me touch you,” Chance said.
She shuddered as his fingers traced the lace on the edge of her panties. She waited, shuddering again in anticipation of when they would slip beneath the thin silk and enter her. But they didn’t. They merely traced the same path over and over.
Sensations moved through her. And they were so new—nothing like the flash and fire he’d always ignited in her before. This was…softer…sweeter, and her blood felt as if it had turned thick as honey.
“I love the feel of your skin.” His hand moved down the inside of her thigh to her knee and then slowly back again. He repeated the process on her other thigh.
She could have sworn that she was floating. Ridiculous. She was still sitting on the counter. She could feel the hard press of it against her bottom and the heels of her hands. But what Chance was doing to her with just his hands made her feel as if he’d magically levitated her several inches above the counter.
That was ridiculous. And she should put a stop to it. She opened her mouth, intending to do just that when he drew her feet out of the sink and shifted her so that her back was propped against the mirror and he was standing between her legs.
He pulled her shorts off and dropped them on the floor in one smooth move.
“Open your eyes.”
She hadn’t even been aware that she’d closed them, but she did as he asked. She would have done anything he asked.
“I want to touch you here.” He ran one finger down the silk of her panties until it rested against the center of her heat.
She shuddered as a wave of pleasure pierced her, weakening her. Helpless to do anything else, she watched him, waiting, wanting.
For a moment, he didn’t move at all. And she couldn’t. Everything inside of her was melting.
“Please…”
His finger moved then, but only to trace the same erotic patterns he’d made earlier on her thigh.
“No…please.” Gathering all of her strength, she arched toward him, craving more.
He drew his hand away, gripped her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the counter. Then leaning down, he began to trace the same pattern on the silk of her panty with his tongue.
Pleasure built to a knife-edged pain inside of her as she strained toward him. But she couldn’t get close enough, and he kept the pressure so gentle. Too gentle. The torture was so exquisite, she thought she might die of it.
“I can’t… Please.”
He drew her panties off then and followed their path down her legs with his mouth. Then he began the journey back up. If she’d thought she might die before, Natalie was quite sure she would now as sensation after sensation battered through her. There was the scrape of his teeth at her ankle, the slick pressure of his tongue on her calf, and the string of kisses that drew closer and closer, only to stop before they reached their goal.
And then his mouth was just where she wanted it to be, and the pressure was just what she’d been craving. She called out his name as the orgasm erupted. His arms were around her as the pleasure careened through her with a force that built and built and built to a high, airless peak. As she shot over it, all she knew was Chance.
And then he was inside of her, moving slowly in and out, in and out. She couldn’t feel anymore. She was sure of it, but then the heat started to build again. And still he went slowly, too slowly. Drawing on all of her strength, she wrapped herself around him and began to move. She knew the moment the pleasure built to the flash point for him, and she went with him into the fire.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK of the costume?”
Natalie stared at herself in the mirror and tried to think of an appropriate Calli response. Of course, Chance had sprung the costume on her out of the blue.
And they still didn’t have a decent plan. Once she’d managed to gather up her brain cells after they’d made love, she’d suggested that they split up and each break into one of the safes. He’d rejected it, but what he’d replaced it with was sketchy at best. The only thing she was sure of was that they were going to break into the gallery safe first. In her mind, the sketchy details meant that he intended to improvise.
“Great, aren’t they?”
Natalie dragged her focus back to the costumes. The fact that they were in the bedroom and being listened to kept her from saying what she really thought about them. She shifted her gaze to Chance’s reflection in the mirror. He was Stan Laurel. Tall and lean, he looked the part right up to the dopey expression on his face. Very cute.
She, on the other hand, was a fat, pudgy and very disgruntled Oliver Hardy. Spikey little black bangs peeked out from the bowler hat she was wearing, and she had a mustache and chipmunk cheeks. Chance had made her stuff cotton rolls in them.
Finally, she let her gaze drift down to the stomach that felt as big as Kansas. The added padding around her middle held her tools and a second costume just in case they had to improvise at some point in the evening.
Just in case they had to improvise? Yeah, right. But she felt better knowing that at least Chance had some sort of a backup plan. Still, the added girth around her middle was going to slow her down.
“You really look like Oliver Hardy,” Chance said, grinning at her.
She did. And Calli should have some reaction to that. Someone was listening, but her mind had gone suddenly blank. How would Calli feel about wearing this costume?
For some reason she’d been finding it harder to keep in character since they’d made love in the bathroom. She was pretty sure that the clutch of nerves in her stomach had more to do with the way that Chance had made her feel than the job they had to do tonight.
“I was sure you’d like it,” Chance said.
Stalling, she fisted her hands on her hips and focused on her image in the mirror. But she didn’t want to be Calli right now. And she didn’t want to be Rachel Cade either. What she really wanted was to drag Chance back in the bathroom and ask him what he’d meant by making her feel the way he had.
He’d made her feel loved. The word had fear and panic slithering up her spine, but it was better to get it out and face it than to let it gnaw away at her.
He’d made her feel something that wasn’t real, that she couldn’t have. Better to get that harsh truth out and face it, too. Maybe then, she could get her mind back on the job they had to do.
“You love watching my collection of Oliver and Hardy films…” The expression on Chance’s face was puzzled. He’d probably looked forward to throwing her this curve ball, Natalie thought.
Tilting her head to one side, she met his eyes and said, “Loving the films doesn’t mean I want to dress up like them. And I don’t see why I have to be the fat guy.”
Chance grinned Stan Laurel’s silly grin and flipped his tie at her. “Because I’m taller.”
She rolled her eyes and ad-libbed. “I never should have let you pick out