But, of course, he couldn’t. He needed to check in with Rowan, find out where she planned to transfer Quintana, and get back to interrogating the son of a bitch. He glanced over to check the alarm clock, his gaze falling on Natalie’s photograph of Beau.
A good-looking young guy with dark brown hair, a solid build, and an easy smile, Beau looked into the camera, unaware that his life was about to end, the love he felt for Natalie unmistakable in his eyes,
Zach understood why Beau had braved the flooded, debris-strewn streets of New Orleans to come for her. He knew what Beau must have felt when he’d heard that she’d almost been murdered—shock, seething rage, a bone-deep need to protect and comfort her. And he knew that Beau’s last thought must have been of her.
Zach met Beau’s gaze, found himself whispering to a dead man. “I’d die for her, too.”
NATALIE WOKE TO the delicious feeling of kisses trailing down her back, Zach’s big hand caressing the bare curve of her hip. “Mmm.”
“You’re finally awake.” His hand slid in delicious circles upward along her side and around front to cup her breast. His skilled fingers teased her nipple, pinched it, tugged it, his touch sending sparks deep into her belly. “Good.”
She could smell on his minty breath that he’d already been up and had brushed his teeth. She wanted to do the same. Reluctantly, she drew away. “Hold that thought.”
She climbed out of bed, walked naked into the beautiful marble bathroom, the tiles cool against her feet. She grabbed her toothbrush and quickly brushed, holding her hair back as she rinsed her mouth. She finished, set her toothbrush aside, then turned toward the door—and froze.
Still naked, he stood in the doorway, his gaze sliding intimately over her, his erection standing against his belly, his testicles hanging full and heavy beneath. There was something deeply primal about his aroused body, about the heat in his eyes, about the way he watched her.
He walked slowly toward her. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
Beautiful.
That’s how she would describehim—beautiful, erotic, so powerfully male.
She met him halfway, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him, her arms sliding behind his neck. He groaned, his tongue greeting hers.
And then she got an idea—a silly, naughty, exciting idea.
Suppressing her own laughter, she deliberately turned them in a slow-motion waltz until her back was toward the door. Slowly, she stepped back from him, smiled up at him from beneath her eyelashes—then turned and ran.
She dashed toward the bed, jumped in, and scuttled to the far side, looking back to find him watching her, a predatory gleam in his eyes now. Excitement shivered through her, the thrill of being pursued making her pulse trip.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He walked in slow strides toward her, his muscles shifting. “You can’t get away from me. You know that, don’t you?”
Quashing the giggle that welled up inside her, she drew back against the headboard, curling her legs beneath her, covering her bare breasts with her hands, her heart pounding harder as he drew near.
“Why are you covering yourself?” He stopped at the edge of the bed. “I’m going to see it all, touch it all, taste it all. I’m going to do whatever I want with your sweet body, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Then he lowered himself to one knee on the mattress.
With a squeal, Natalie leapt from the bed, but she didn’t make it far. A strong arm caught her around her waist and drew her back onto the bed. She fought just hard enough to make him use his strength, turning onto her belly, trying to crawl away.
“You think this will stop me?” He laughed, a dark masculine sound. “Save your strength. You’re going to need it.”
His weight pinned her to the bed. Powerful thighs pressed against her hips as he straddled her from behind, forcing her legs tightly together. He caught her wrists, drew her arms behind her back, one of his hands holding them there while the other grasped one of her buttocks, spreading her, exposing her to his view.
It was a position of utter submission, one that gave him total power over her and left her no means to resist.
But she wasn’t willing to surrender yet. She twisted and writhed, the thrill of being overpowered more arousing than she could have imagined. Then she felt the head of his cock rub against her labia. Liquid heat gathered inside her, her body longing for him, even as she pretended to resist.
“I can see everything—those sexy, bare outer lips . . . the pink edges of your sweet inner lips . . . And this . . .” His thumb brushed over a part of her no man had ever touched, the sensation both alarming and arousing, and for a moment she was afraid he planned to penetrate her there.
She gasped, shocked.
But he didn’t enter her there. Instead, he nudged the thick head of his cock between her labia and thrust deep, his groan drowning out the sound of her whimper.
With her legs held together like this, there seemed to be no room inside her. She could feel every inch of his steel-hard cock as he moved, from the engorged head that almost touched her cervix, to the thick base that stretched and stroked her sensitive entrance, to the taut skin of his testicles as they brushed her labia.
She moaned, bit a pillow, lost in the heat of these intense, new sensations. She’d never believed all that G-spot hype, never believed that a woman could climax through penetration alone. But now she knew she’d been wrong, his thrusts caressing some secret place inside her, the ache unbearable and sweet.