3

He was there. He knew she was.

The moment Kira stepped out of the elevator of her hotel that evening she knew Ian was waiting in her

room. Her breasts hardened, her nipples peaked against the thin leather bustier covering them, and her

body came alive with instant, blazing heat.

It wasn't any particular premonition. She would have liked to say she could just feel him. The truth was it

was the presence of the bodyguard leaning casually against the wall several feet from her door that clued

her in.

Deke Santiago. Age thirty-six, married once, widower. A dishonorably discharged Ranger.

Dishonorable because he had nearly killed his commanding officer for screwing his then wife.

The court-martial had earned him a year in Leavenworth because he couldn't prove the adultery. There,

he had met up with one of Diego Fuentes's lieutenants; four years later he had flown into Colombia and

begun his life of apparent crime.

She paused as the elevator doors closed behind her, flicked a long swath of black hair over her

shoulder, and sighed with an edge of irritation, aware of the security cameras trained on her. She had an

appearance to maintain. That of bored socialite and thrill seeker. Anyone searching for information would

check security cameras. She knew, because it was something she did.

She moved along the hall, ignoring him. That's what she did with bodyguards, she pretended to ignore

them. Her own, Daniel Calloway, was proof of that.

"I won't need you to check the room tonight, Daniel," she informed him as they neared his connecting

room. "You can go on to bed."

"Are you sure, Ms. Porter?" His voice was colored with suspicion as he held to his role and Deke's lips

quirked mockingly at the challenge in Daniel's voice.

"I'm positive. I'm certain the room is secure."

Daniel wasn't a stupid man, he knew Ian was there as well as she did. He entered his own room and

closed the door behind him as Kira pulled her key card from the lining on the inside of her sinfully

high-heeled boot.

She had hit the clubs early that evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ian before he found her. It seemed

it had been a wasted effort. How long had he been waiting in her room instead?

She was nervous. She hadn't been nervous over a man since the last time she had seen Ian. Before that,

she had never known a moment's nerves with a potential lover.

She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, need pooling between her thighs, and a haunting ache

tightening her chest. An ache that had little to do with the arousal, but much to do with the emotions he

inspired in her. Emotions as alien as the nerves.

"Is he upset?" She twirled the card in her fingers as she stared back at Deke, allowing a small grin to curl

the edges of her lips.

Deke glanced at her door, a grin quirking his sensual lips. "Ask him yourself and see."

As she turned back to the door it swung open. A hard hand gripped her wrist and jerked her inside

before the door slammed closed behind her.

She was pushed against it, her breath whooshing from her lips as her hands were gripped in one of his,

held high above her head, and every inch of her body was molded to the hard length of his.

Her juices pooled between the lips of her sex then eased into the silk of the thong she wore beneath her

leather pants. Her nipples spiked impossibly harder, and she swore she could feel a bead of sweat

tickling between her breasts.

No one had ever felt like Ian. Hard, in control, commanding. Every touch, every action, gauged for

maximum pleasure.

The hand holding her wrists tightened as the fingers of the other threaded through her hair and pulled her

head back to stare into the blazing heat of his deep brown eyes. Eyes almost as rich as brandy, fired with

dark little hints of red and filled with fury.

Dark blond hair fell over his forehead; the rich mix of colors, sun lightened and thick, lying long along his

nape and falling over his brow made her long to bury her fingers in it again.

He turned her on in ways she had never been turned on before. She dreamed about sex with Ian. Lusted

for it. Ached for it. She had agreed to deceive him for the slightest chance to be touched by those hard

hands again.

"What the fucking hell are you doing here?" he snarled down at her as his head lowered.

His lips buried in her shoulder, opening to allow his teeth to grip the flesh there, his tongue to lap over it

with quick heated strokes as she jerked against him.

"Business." Her head lowered as well.

The strong column of his neck was there for her enjoyment. Her teeth raked it. She licked slowly and the

taste of male lust exploded against her taste buds.

God, he tasted good. She sucked at the flesh, a little moan escaping her throat as he picked her up,

turned her, and in the next second bore her to the bed.

"Ian." She gasped his name, feeling the hard length of his body covering hers, his thighs spreading hers,

his cock pressing hard and demandingly into the butter-soft leather covering her sex.

Her hands were still stretched above her head, her breasts perilously close to spilling from the cups of

the leather bustier she wore.

She felt bound. Helpless. She had never felt that way with a man before. She had never wanted to feel

that way until Ian had shown her the pleasure to be found there. Now she craved it. Craved him with a

hunger that refused to be quelled.

"You have no business here." His lips drew back from his teeth as his free hand tugged at the ties that

secured the front of the bustier. "No business here. No business close to here."

The top loosened, spread apart, and with a flick of his fingers the cups covering her breasts were

released. Her breasts spilled free, nipples hard and pointed, flushed red and aching for his touch.

"You're here." It was a statement and a moan as his head lowered and his lips covered a tight, sensitive

nipple.

He wasn't easy on her, and she didn't want easy. His teeth gripped and tugged, his tongue lashed with

wicked wet heat. Her eyeballs were going to roll back in her head it was so damned good. He sucked on

her like a starving man.

Long moments later his head lifted, thick dark blond lashes fanning his cheeks as he stared down at his

handiwork.

Her nipple was tighter, if that was possible, gleaming wet and ruby red.

"You wore too many clothes," he growled, his voice, which was rough on a good day, grating now.

"I didn't want to appear too easy," she gasped as his lips moved to the opposite breast and began their

less than tender ministrations.

God, this was what she had loved about the first and only time he had touched her. He didn't treat her

like spun glass. He didn't touch her like she would break. He touched her like a woman well able to

satisfy the dark, hungry sex drive she knew he possessed. That he possessed and she craved to

experience.

"Not easy enough." He nipped the side of her breast, his free hand moving to her hip, tugging at the laces

on her pants now as his lips moved back to hers.

Oh God, the taste of his kiss. It was incredible. It was enough to steam her eyeballs, not to mention what

it was probably doing to the glass balcony doors across the room.

She stretched beneath him, arched closer, rubbed against the erection seated firmly against her pussy

and wished she could purr. It felt that damned good. So good, she wondered if she could come from his

kiss alone.

Hell, she had never done that, but this was close. This was edging closer. His tongue curled along hers,

stroked it, then teased her by licking at her lips. Then he bit her.

Kira jerked her head back, glaring at him before she returned the favor by nipping at his lower lip. His

hand tightened in her hair, jerked her back, and his lips slammed over hers.

He released her wrists, wrapped his arms around her, and began thrusting between her thighs, stroking

the silk of her panties and the leather of her pants against her, rubbing against her clit and causing little

snarls to echo in her throat.

Damn him, he was burning her alive.

Her hands buried themselves in his hair, pulled at it. Her knees lifted and bent, clasping his hips as she

dug the sharp heels of her boots into the bed and tried to defy the layers of material between them.

She wanted him, bad. She wanted his cock pounding into her. Wanted him fucking her, filling her,

stealing her senses and her much lauded control with the lusts that blazed between them.

This was no place for those lusts. The middle of an investigation, in the eye of a storm that threatened to

close in on Ian like the narrowing spout of a cyclone. And yet, just as before, the wild hunger flared

through her, rocked her, seared her senses. Opened something inside herself that she didn't recognize. A

core of femininity. A certainty that the rabbit hole the woman hid within had been discovered. The agent

she had become could no longer hide the woman desperate to reveal herself.

She was immersed in thick, white-hot sensation and flowing with damp, desperate need. And when his

hand slid into the loosened edge of her pants, his hips pulled back, and his fingers found the bare flesh of

her saturated sex, Kira knew she was doomed.

She froze, but Ian didn't have any such inclinations. His fingers found the narrow, sensitized slit, slid

through it, and two fingers speared into the snug, slick entrance of her vagina.

"Oh God!" She tore her lips from his, the words bursting from her lips as she felt the muscles surrounding

his fingers spasm, felt her juices spurt around them.

"Damn you, you're hot!" He bit her neck, just like a damned freaking vampire. Just bit right into it and

sent her eyes rolling back in her head again as a shudder tore through her.

Her hips jerked, working her sex on his fingers as she felt the explosion just a breath away. Just a frickin'

breath. It was so close she could feel it, taste it, smell it.

"Oh, it's not that easy," he snarled, his fingers stilling inside her, just filling her, holding her on the edge of

a precipice that was painful.

"Would be," she panted. "If you wouldn't be such a jackass !" She just wanted to come. It wasn't like

she wanted national secrets or something. Hell, she already had those.

His smile was tight, hard. His hair, mussed from her fingers, fell around his dark tanned face, his lips

swollen from her kisses.

He looked like the dominant male he was. A sexually dominant, fierce and forceful, take-all-control

kinda guy. He wasn't going to let a lover control her sexuality or his. That was his prerogative, and by

God if he didn't know how to do it. Not exactly her normal taste, but he had become a craving.

"What are you doing here, Kira?" He stroked her, inside, just the sweetest, most delicious rubbing of her

internal muscles with the tips of his fingers.

Shiverlicious. She shivered and gasped and grew wetter, it was just that damned good.

"Business. Working." She tried to breathe. Hell, breathing was overrated anyway. If she held her breath,

just held it, she could almost fall off the edge from those rasping little strokes inside her pussy.

"Working huh?" He bent and ran his tongue over a stiff nipple. "You do remember how I punish liars,

don't you?"

Was that really her moaning like she wanted to be punished? Oh hell no, couldn't be. She didn't play

those games, and she wasn't into any kind of submission. Until it came to Ian. Her butt clenched, she

couldn't help it. And she knew he felt it. She knew she felt his knowing chuckle against her nipple.

"Bite me," she groaned. She didn't order or snap. Nope, she groaned, like a helpless whimpering little

submissive begging for her master's touch.

"Where?" His teeth rasped over her nipple.

"That works."

He bit her. Not too hard. Just enough. He closed his teeth on her nipple just enough for her to feel the

pleasure

ain.

Sweet Holy Mother . . . She arched, bearing down on the fingers filling her, and thought for certain she

would go off like fireworks from that alone.

God help her, she needed to orgasm.

"Might as well answer me." He blew another breath over the tight, tormented peak. "What are you up

to, Trouble?"

"Trouble," she agreed, a moan filling the word as his fingers shifted inside her, reached higher and found

the most amazing little bunch of nerve endings. Hell, where had those come from? That wasn't the

G-spot, it might even be better than the G-spot.

The I-spot. The Ian spot.

"Oh God, just let me come," she panted, her hands tightening in his hair as her breathing became harder,

rougher.

"Tell me," he whispered, but despite his seeming determination, he wasn't unaffected.

Kira stared into his eyes and saw the near black irises, the burgundy glow of lust, and the flush mantling

his cheekbones. Heavy sensuality shaped his lips and gave his gaze a drowsy, wicked appearance.

"I swear on my uncle's bank account. Business. Just business. Now get me off, dammit." She tried to

writhe beneath him, tried to go that last little sensation into orgasm without his help.

"Goddamn you!"

Before Kira could react his fingers had slid from her body, jerked from beneath her pants, and he was

jackknifing from the bed to glare at her as he stood over her.

And there she lay, panting, her nipples standing as straight and tall as the imperial guard and her vagina

still gushing with need.

"Tease!" She rolled to the other side of the bed, sat on the edge, and jerked her boots off first, then

tugged her pants from her legs.

Clad in nothing but a white silk thong, she jerked the bronze silk robe from the chair by the bed and

shrugged it on as she turned to face him.

"You know, Ian, this habit you have of leaving me a second before I get off is becoming annoying."

"Your habit of poking your nose into my business could become dangerous," he snapped, fury contorting

his expression. But lust gleamed thick and bright in his eyes.

Kira pushed her fingers through her tangled hair, shook it out, and cast him a mocking look from beneath

her lashes.

"Oh really, Ian," she drawled then. "You brought your business to me, remember? The night you slipped

into my condo and crawled that tight ass of yours into my bed during that op in Atlanta. Don't start crying

foul now. You're just pissed off because you finally met a woman unwilling to play the ready-and-willing

submissive. Speaking of those, didn't you ever get bored?"

His lips thinned and she swore that muscle jumping in his jaw was going to tear right out of the tightly

stretched flesh of his cheek.

Damn, he was a tad upset.

Poor baby.

"What kind of deal is Homeland Security running here, Kira? Don't fuck with me. Not now. Mess in my

business here and I might have to kill you."

And damn if he didn't sound as though he meant it. He was almost believable. Maybe. If she were on

mind-altering drugs, she thought with a sniff.

"The big bad cartel leader now, are you?" She tossed her head back and let a low, seductive laugh

whisper from her throat. "Come on, Ian, you enjoy the game too much to kill me. Besides." She moved

closer to him, ran a finger down his heaving chest, and whispered the words that she knew had the

potential to rock his little world. "Why would they run an op against their favorite bad boy spy?"

It was a guess, nothing more. A supposition. A hope, but the reaction was far more than she anticipated.

The change was frightening. The lust in his eyes was instantly replaced with icy fury. His expression

tightened further, the harsh planes and angles of his face cast into savage relief a second before he

grabbed her.

Between one breath and the next Kira found herself, arms locked behind her back, her back to his

chest, and his powerful arm braced around her neck as his lips lowered to her ear.

"Get out of Aruba, and take your accusations with you. Get as far away from me as possible or I'll fuck

you until you're dying from the orgasms. And once I've had my fill of you, I'll break your pretty neck."

His arm tightened around her neck for emphasis as his hard, corded body vibrated with tension against

her. She should have felt at least a frisson of fear. She assumed that was the point behind the hold on her.

It wasn't painful, but it reminded her to the very core of her being that he was broader, stronger, and a

hell of a lot more experienced in violence than she was.

She didn't try to break loose. She knew better. For every move she had, Ian had one to counter it.

Instead, she relaxed into the embrace, became soft and pliant, aware that he only tensed further behind

her.

"Go ahead, Ian," she said softly. "Kill me. If you can."

HE COULDN'T.

Ian stared down at her face, felt her body relax into him, and felt like a drowning man. Only it was soft,

willing woman he was drowning in. The scent and feel of the one woman he had learned was a weakness

he could ill afford.

"You're playing a very dangerous game," he whispered against the soft silk of her hair as he felt her ass

flex against the hard length of his cock.

Her unique, pretty little ears were at his lips, the little slant and soft curve of the lobe tempting his lips.

His dick was throbbing, aching. Just the thought of her could do this to him, make him crazy to fuck her,

to hold her to him and bury himself inside her.

Luck had been on his side in Atlanta eight months before. There hadn't been the time or the opportunity

to take her, and each time he'd managed to get his hands on her there had been an interruption.

There would be no interruptions now, the wild side of his brain reminded him with frantic lust. He could

push her against the wall, bury himself inside the hot grip of her pussy, and find the relief he needed with

teeth-clenching desperation.

"And you're not?" she asked him as he slowly released her hands.

Hands that slid down and curled over the hard ridge of his erection, stealing his breath.

"Do you think you really managed to slip into that naval clinic unseen, Ian?" she whispered then. "You're

good, big boy, but you're not that good. Don't you know that entry point you found unsecured was

unsecured for a reason? That the guard was napping, for a reason. That Nathan's bathroom door was

closed. For a reason. I knew you would be there. I knew, all I had to do was wait, because I knew the

signs that a path had been made for you. You're working an op here and we both know it."

despite every cell in his cock screaming no.

She turned slowly to face him, wearing nothing but the bronze silk robe and panties so tiny he wondered

why she bothered. Witchy gray eyes stared up at him, the cloudy color ringed with a thin circle of

gray-blue that had always fascinated him.

The dangerous statement had cleared the mind-numbing lust from his brain and left him chilled to the

bone. His contact at DHS had arranged the visit, he knew that. But how had Kira known it?

"There's no op in progress."

He breathed in through his nose before he moved away from her, pacing to the chair where his

expensive silk jacket had been laid. Shrugging it on, he turned back to her, remembering the job, the

dangers, and the price of failure.

"He saved my life when I was a kid," he stated, hearing his own raspy voice and recalling that his

screams at that time had nearly broken it. Nathan's was worse. His voice was so ruined that the sound of

it would always remind the other man of the hell he had endured.

Kira nodded. "He told me about that."

Ian clenched his teeth. "I needed to say goodbye. That was all."

Her lips pursed. "Just saying goodbye? All security measures were allowed to lapse so a drug lord could

say goodbye? Give me a break, Ian."

"Money in the right hands works wonders," he assured her, staring back at her with the same icy

expression he had perfected over the past several years. "I'm here by choice, Ms. Porter, don't make the

mistake of thinking otherwise. And trust me when I say, I don't intend to leave."

Her gaze flickered then, whether with indecision or belief, he couldn't be sure. Reading Kira was like

trying to navigate through lake fog. Damned near impossible.

Finally, another of those irritating, knowing smiles shaped her lips and she shrugged with a graceful shift

of her slender shoulders.

That smile was designed to make men crazy. To make them dream of wiping it off her face with passion,

or with their dick filling that hot little mouth. Ian had quite a few fantasies concerning the latter.

"Whatever," she finally answered smoothly. "Uncle Jason is considering buying a villa here, did I mention

that? He's flying in tomorrow to check out a few possibilities that I found today. You go ahead and play

your little games, Ian, I'm sure I can find a way to occupy myself."

"Get the hell out of Aruba, Kira," he ordered her harshly. "Don't turn this into a pissing match, because

you'll lose. The hard way."

She clicked her tongue then. "Really, Ian, you're losing your perspective. Drug cartel leaders don't give

warnings, they act. I guess you'll just have to try the cement slippers next." Her eyes widened. "Or are

they using something else here in the Caribbean? Sometimes it's just so hard to keep up."

He'd had enough. He'd warned her. She was an experienced agent, she knew the game, the rules and

the dangers. If she got her ass killed, then it was out of his hands. He'd warned her.

"Good night, Ms. Porter." He moved across the room and headed for the door. "I trust you'll take ample

care of yourself while you're here."

"I always do, lover."

He jerked the door open then slammed it behind him as he stepped into the hall. Deke straightened from

the wall, his gaze narrowing, his eyes flickering with interest as he glanced at the suite door.

"Let's move." Ian stalked down the hallway without explanations. He'd be damned if there was any way

to explain Kira, even if Deke was aware of exactly who and what she was.

Oh yeah, she was the niece to Jason Maclane all right. And one of the most clever damned contract

agents Homeland Security had on its payroll.

The Chameleon, that was her code name. And why was that her code name? Because she was as

changeable in her appearance as she was in her moods. Because her job wasn't to confront a damned

thing, it was to watch and listen and flit around the elite little parties that catered to the rich and notorious,

and the dirty little deal makers. To shift and change according to her location, to become seductive or

dangerous, to fit in with the diseased, disgusting parasites of the world.

And he should remember that one, he told himself as he followed Deke into the elevator. Kira knew the

rules of the game. She didn't need him to protect her.