The Black Sheep and The English Rose. Donna Kauffman
didn’t fight him, or look remotely alarmed. If anything, she looked…excited.
He levered his body over hers, tracing his hands up along her arms, over the wrist shackles, until he could weave his fingers through hers. She arched up into him, causing him to swallow a groan of satisfaction as the rigid length of him came into contact with the softest part of her. He managed to find the strength to resist the urge—like a primal directive—to drill his hips into hers.
Instead, he brought his mouth within a whisper of her lips. “I would never say you have nothing to offer.”
Her lips parted, and she moved sinuously beneath him, torturing them both. “Who said I was offering anything? You have me at quite the disadvantage.”
He released one of her hands and slid his hand to his belt. Two quick flicks of a lethal-looking little penknife later, she was free. He tossed his knife on the nightstand and immediately trapped her hands to the bed, once again weaving his fingers through hers. She didn’t take the forced intimacy passively, but curled her fingers to hold his hands just as tightly. Their gazes were once again locked. Fused, almost, it seemed. He wouldn’t have been remotely surprised to see steam fill the room, just from the look they were sharing.
“And now?” he asked.
She used the sides of his shoes to loosen the tie binding her ankles, then slipped her feet from the silk noose. An instant later, she was digging her toes into the backs of his calves as she wound her legs around his, tightening the pressure of his hips against hers.
She moved beneath him, and, this time, he was helpless not to move in response. Less than forty-eight hours on the job and he was jeopardizing everything. She was right. He had no business here, certainly none with her. And he didn’t give a flat damn. He’d waited two years for this. For her. Or maybe he’d waited his entire life.
“Now,” she said, gasping herself as he pushed against her, “now I want to know what you have to offer me.”
Chapter 2
She’d lost her mind. It was the only explanation.
Two years had passed. Two years. Yet, nothing had changed. One grin—one flash of those white teeth—and the calculating professional who always put mission first, self second, vanished. And some inner sex kitten she didn’t even know took over. What in the hell did she think she was doing?
She could lie to herself and say she was just doing what she had to in order to extricate herself from a less than promising situation.
And a lie it would be.
Two years. She’d almost managed to get the charming bastard out of her thoughts. She’d never get him out of her dreams. That, she could live with. She’d reconciled herself to that much. But now here he was, still larger than life, still cocky as hell, and pulling her right back into that same sexual fog she’d barely escaped from last time. If you could call being left naked and shackled an escape. Lord only knew where she’d have ended up if he hadn’t chosen to leave her when he did. She couldn’t even be all that angry at the manner in which he’d left her. She’d certainly deserved worse, considering the clams. Besides, he’d done her a favor. Another few hours spent wrapped around him and who knew what secrets she might have been tempted to spill? He already knew far too much about her, and she was still clueless as to why he’d let her get away with it. Twice.
She’d teased him about his business integrity, but she’d always known Finn Dalton was one of the good guys. Which, considering that he was also the epitome of a bad boy, was quite an intoxicating mix. And doubly dangerous. To her, and to her mission. That night in Prague, she’d been oh-so tempted to do what she’d never done before: confide in someone, bring him in on her secret.
Thank God he’d left her when he had. Naked or not.
That had been her mantra every day since. For a time, she’d thought she actually believed it.
She moved her hips beneath his, fighting the internal battle of want over need, losing it handily, and not particularly caring. He made it easy to play the siren. One look from him and she felt like some primal creature whose only directive was to melt him down to his most basic essence. It was a wonder they both hadn’t gone up in flames the last time they’d tangled. Twice now they’d danced on the edge, twice now she’d been lucky to get out unscathed. The first time had been pure luck. But that last time…He could have ruined her, personally and professionally, had he chosen to. She had no idea why he hadn’t. Which made what she was doing right now the epitome of foolishness.
If she entertained the thought, even for a second, that she could control him through sex, then she deserved whatever she got.
“Actually,” he said, teasing the corner of her mouth with a brush of his lips, “I want to take you up on your proposition.”
Her entire body shuddered at the mere thought that he wanted more of her. Her head knew it was business. But tell that to the rest of her. She was in dire need of an edge. More of an edge than the knowledge his raging erection gave her. She hooked her foot around his ankle and rolled him to his back.
Only his extreme agility kept them both from dropping off the edge of the bed. Not exactly the edge she’d had in mind. She tried to straddle him, but he wrapped his legs around her and kept her fully pinned to him, his fingers still entwined with hers. So much for controlling things.
“I seem to remember you have a penchant for being on top,” he said, his grin resurfacing.
Her pulse doubled. She was in so much trouble. She could extract the rarest of artifacts from the trickiest of locations leaving nary a trace. She couldn’t be around Finn Dalton for more than five seconds without losing every ounce of intellect she possessed. “I don’t seem to recall you minding all that much.”
He laughed. “No. No, I didn’t.” He slid his arms up over his head, drawing their joined hands higher, pulling her face closer to his. “So, about this partnership you proposed. I was thinking we should…hammer out some of the details.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what you want from this…partnership.”
“Now, now. Like you, I don’t conduct business in bed. That’s strictly personal time.” He abruptly rolled, and she found herself flat on her back again, pinned down by his weight, now fully on top of her.
She wished it didn’t feel so damn good.
“However,” he went on, “all work and no play can make for a very dull boy.”
“Dull. Hmm.” She pushed her hips up, making them both groan a little. “Apparently you’ve been taking a lot of time for play, then.”
“Unfortunately, no.” His grin was as unabashed as ever. “Though it’s a problem I’d be more than happy for you to assist me with.”
“How could a girl resist such an offer?”
He moved a little, until they were both breathing a bit more heavily. “I’m sure we’ll spend some time figuring out the answer to that.” He shifted his weight off of her slightly. “But for now, talk to me about this stone we’re both after.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as some of the fog blessedly lifted. She hadn’t thought he’d be so open about it. For all they’d both known, during each of their encounters, exactly why their paths had crossed they hadn’t exactly talked about. Much less shared any intel on it. “First off,” she said, “what happened to the no-business-in-bed rule? And secondly, we haven’t yet discussed what would be in this partnership for me.”
Now he moved his hips and gave her his most hopeful, innocent smile, which didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You’re incredibly incorrigible. A trait I admire, by the way. But, quite obviously I could get that from you without the promise of business.”
He sighed, but his eyes still twinkled. She’d forgotten how incessantly blue they were. It was like staring into an