He slammed his other hand over her mouth. “For Christ’s sake, be quiet. We don’t want anyone coming in to check on you.”
“Why not? You can kill him, grab the phone, and we can get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not fucking Rambo, Parker. I need the phone, I need to deal with Soledad, and I need to get you out. I can’t just go in with guns blazing.”
“I thought that’s what you did to get up here in the first place.”
“I used my bare hands,” he said, the words flat and unemotional, but something in his tone must have tipped her off. She was silent for a moment, and she’d stopped trying to free her arms.
“I’m sorry.”
The words shocked him. “For what? For being a pain in the ass? You can’t help it.”
“No,” she said evenly. “I’m sorry you had to kill.”
He shrugged, angry with himself that he’d given so much away. “It’s all in a day’s work.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “And you killed for me.”
He didn’t bother setting her straight. His job was to take out Soledad and any of her men he could, and to bring back the smartphone. Saving Parker was simply an added benefit, if you could call it that. He wasn’t even sure his boss, Peter Madsen, would approve.
She looked up at him in the air-cooled darkness. Her body had softened beneath his, accommodating his bigger one, welcoming it, and he knew he was getting hard. She’d know it too, soon enough. “Do you want to get off me?” she said after a moment. “I don’t think now is the time for a quickie.”
“We’re locked in here for the next four hours at least. I can’t think of anything better to do.”
“You’re out of your mind! If you think I’d let you . . .”
He covered her mouth with his, silencing her whispered protests, holding her by her wrists while he kissed her with slow, deliberate thoroughness, kissed her until she was breathless and panting and trembling beneath him, kissed her until she was pliant, and her wrists twisted in his hand until she held him and she arched up beneath him.
He lifted his head. He had to stop this, he had to get away from her. But he stayed where he was, cradled between her legs. “This is a very bad idea.”
“Yes,” she said, pulling her hands free from his grip and sliding them around his neck. “But we’re probably going to die tomorrow. Do it anyway.”
He was a man of considerable resolve and willpower, but not, apparently, where she was concerned. He groaned, setting his forehead against hers for a moment. And then he sat back, reaching for the hem of her T-shirt and pulling it over her head with one swift motion.
She had perfect breasts, full and high, and he stared down at them for a long moment as the moonlight filtered through the clouds, providing just enough illumination. He half expected her to try to cover herself, but instead she reached up for his shirt, tugging it free from his jeans, pulling at it, so he yanked it over his head and tossed it somewhere in the darkness.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said in a low voice.
“I know,” she said.
Of course she did, and she wanted this anyway. By now his hormones had gone into overdrive, sharpened by the danger and death all around them, and he could think of no earthly, practical reason not to take what she was offering, what he wanted so badly.
He leaned down and caught one turgid nipple in his mouth, rolling it on his tongue, letting his teeth graze her, and he felt the start of desire shimmer across her body. He caught her other breast with his long fingers, pinching lightly, and she let out a silent gasp as her nipples grew even harder beneath his dual attentions.
Last time had been fast and hard in the darkness, and he hadn’t had time to fully appreciate her. Now they were lost in a place with no present, no past or future, and he could take his time giving her the attention she so richly deserved. She was lithe and luscious and utterly delectable, and he wanted to drown in her scent, her taste, her sweetness.
He licked his way down her stomach, tasting the sweat and fear and arousal, and he wanted nothing more than to give her what she’d suggested—a rough quickie, just to get the edge off so he could enjoy her in a more leisurely fashion. He wanted a fast release, for him if not for her, and leisure might be more than they could afford. He yanked her shorts down her long legs, bringing her underwear with them, and she was naked and vulnerable beneath him. He reached for his own belt buckle.
But her hands were already there, unfastening him, and his hard cock thrust through the straining zipper once her deft fingers had managed to unfasten it.
He knew he was big, intimidatingly so, and he half expected her to shy away, but her cool, long fingers encircled him, tugging slightly, and he uttered a soft groan in response.
“Keep that up and this will be the quickie you were so keen on,” he warned her, and she immediately stopped her light, squeezing touch, much to his regret.
He slid his hand down between her legs, wanting to ready her, but she was gloriously wet, and he felt his cock jerk in reaction. She reached up her hands, sliding them up his arms and then tugging at him.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m tired of feeling sick and frightened. Make me forget that we could die tomorrow. Make me forget everything.”