Dedication

ToRJ&EGBadromance

Acknowledgments

We deeply appreciate ourfamilies’ unflagging support.Creditformuchofoursanityis owed to the Group ThatShall Not Be Named. Extrathanks is due to AndreaHodapp.Inaddition,weofferthanks to Sarah Frantz,Rowan Larke, Zoe Archer,

Patti Ann Colt and KellySchaub for their friendship,andtoKevanLyonandSashaKnight for their amazingenthusiasm.

ChapterOne

“Tell me it’s not badnews.”Heather Morris eyed her

friendbutfoundnoreasontohope.Thisdidn’tlookgood.Jenn slid her cell phone

shut.“It’sbadnews.”“Devastating?”“Well, unlike last time,

there’s no hospital involved.But I’m afraid our plans forthenightareDOA.”Disappointment slinked

between them and the goodtime they’d just beenenjoying. TheMagazine wasafabulouslycoolwinebaroffthe Strip. People with moremoney than sensehad turnedout for the bar’s inaugural“Curiosities” tasting, whichpromised samples of exoticvintagesfromeachcontinent,

including a batch that hadbeen aged at a researchstationinAntarctica.AnotherlabelfromMalaysiaboastedapinot noir with the addedhealing powers of pythonvenom, rendered inert by thebottlingprocess.Heather had planned to

skip that one.ButwhocouldturndownthechancetotasteaTuscanmerlotfermentedin24-karat-goldcasks?JennKimblewas thewine

correspondent for an onlineculinaryblog.She’dbeentheone to secure tickets, whichincluded a complimentarysample of each selection.Then, just for fun, theywereoff to a new Spanish tapasplace called LaRoccawherereservations required a three-month wait. In appreciation,Heather had left heraccounting firm two hoursearly to treat Jenn to a salonvisit. They’d giggled like

younggirls,anticipatingtheirbignightout—thefirstthey’dbeen able to wrangle in twomonths.Butnowitseemedanother

family emergency wouldintervene.“Whathappened?”“Mylie can’t stay with the

kids past nine because herdad can take her to thegymnastics meet after all.”Jennwavedherphone.“Thatwas Rich. I thought he was

just checking in to say he’darrived, but his flight’s beendelayedinAtlanta.Thesafetylights on the aisle aren’tfunctioning, so they have toboard another plane. Of allthings!”Heather grimaced. “And

nowhewon’tbebackintimetorelieveMylie.”“Bingo.”“Damn.”“Doubledamn.”“Call someone else,”

Heather said, a smidge toodesperately.“Anybody.Theirschooljanitorifyouhaveto.”Twenty minutes passed as

Jenn tried every number inher arsenal while Heathereyed The Magazine’saggressively nouveau décor.Thefloor-to-ceilingwindows,minimalist steel fixtures andbarelightbulbshangingfromstringsofbraidedcopperwireseemed the perfect sort ofbizarreplacetoletloose.

But itwas after eight on aFriday night. At such shortnotice,findingasobertouristwould’ve been easier thanfindingababysitter.“No luck,” Jenn said at

last.Heather knew her friend’s

disappointment would welloutpace her own. After all,Jenn had two preschoolersandahusbandwhotraveledahundred days a year. “I’msorry,honey.”

Jenn shrugged. Hergleaming blonde hair was acrime against sisterhood,especially when it was donein a princessy updo. “It wasjustforwork.”“No way. Don’t pull that

with me. I know how muchyouwere looking forward tothis.”“Well, yes.” Jenn let out a

faintsigh.“Butatleastyou’llbehere.”“I’m not staying at this

freakshowifyou’renotherewithme.WhowillIpointouttrain wrecks to? That dress,for example.” She nudgedJenn, who glanced toward awomanstandingatthebar.Agoldlamécorsetoverapoofypinklacetutuwasnever,everappropriate. Except,apparently,inVegas.Jenn chuckled. “Double

damn,” she said again, morewearily this time. “Don’thavekids,mydear.”

“Hush.Youlovethem.”“Okay, fine. Don’t have

kids until you can afford afull-timenanny.”“I’ll get right on that.

Maybe I can bet myretirement savings at thecasinos.”“Beats the stock market.”

Opening her purse, Jennrummaged until she found apadofpaperandapen.“Takethis, would you? I need sixhundred words for my

column tomorrow. Just takesome notes on the snakevenom and the Antarcticathing—the really novel ones.I already have enough aboutthe bat-shit-crazyatmosphere.”AlthoughHeather took the

pen and paper, she wasn’tready to give up on herfriend. “Are you sure? I cango relieve Mylie. You haveworktodohere.”“I appreciate the offer,

sweetie. I do. But I haven’tseen Rich in four days. Thatmeans when he finally getshome and the kids aresnoring,I’llgetlaid.Probablyvery well.” She kissedHeather on the cheek. “Youstayhereandgohunting.”Heather laughed outright.

“Surething.”“I’m serious.” She slipped

a magenta wristband off herslender wrist and handed itover. “Give it to some

halfway-normal guy and getblazingdrunk.”“I don’t get drunk and I

don’tpickuprandomguys.”“Are you sure you were

youngonce?”Youhavenoidea.Not even Jenn, her closest

friendsincemovingtoVegas,had a clear picture ofHeather’s wild youth. Likeeveryone, she believedHeather to be the straight-laced Assistant Director of

InternalAuditing ofHanoverFinancial Logistics. All true.But that hadn’t always beenthecase.Noonerealizedthatbeing the only daughter of asergeant major in the Armywas shorthand for “spentmyyouth partying like apreacher’slittlegirlonspringbreak”.The wildest part of

Heather’scurrentlifewasthefact Hanover specialized incasino accounts. That was

enough for her mom, whocontinued to believeworkingon casino spreadsheets andquarterly reports was thesameashangingwithWayneNewtonandtheOsmonds.Living in Las Vegas did,

however, have interestingadvantages. The Magazinewasacaseinpoint.Ifitcouldbe done at all, it could bedonebiggerandbetter inSinCity. And all without therestrictionsofgoodtaste.

Shewaved her farewell asJenn wiggled out toward thestreet-facing exit. It wasentirelyunjustforamotheroftwo to be so thin. WorkingoutfivetimesaweekwasthebestHeathercouldmanagetokeephercurves from turningto saddlebags and a muffintop.She found a table by

herself.Thewavespropellinghereveninghad reduced toaflat calm, leaving her oddly

restless. When the firstsample was delivered by awaitress wearing an electric-blue sheath dress, Heatherdecided to enjoy theexperience.Nothinglost.She took a hesitant sip.

Although loathe to pay$7,500 a bottle for theworld’shighestaltitudewine,she found it imminentlydrinkable. In responsiblememory of poor dear Jenn,she took diligent notes as

anothertwosamplesarrived.“Isthisseattaken?”Looking up, she found a

pleasant surprise. A verypleasant surprise, truth betold.Amaninasmartlytailored

three-piecesuitstoodwithhishandonthebackoftheotherchair. The pose and the suit,together with his trimphysique, created a ratherdashing picture. He hadpresence.Maybeevengrace.

He was also young. Notyoung enough to makecradle-robbing jokes, maybemid-twenties, but with anextra dash of boyishsweetnesstohisfeatures.Thatis,untilhesmiled.Goose bumps dotted

Heather’s arms. Somethingabout thatsmile,soslowandcontrolled, completely beliedhis youthful looks—whilerevealing an adorably sexypair of dimples.

Unbelievable.He licked his lower lip,

leaving his mouth slightlyparted.Thatdidit.“Helpyourself,”shesaid.Shewatchedhimoutofthe

cornersofhereyesashesat.Proppinghisankleacrosshisknee,hesettledintothechair.Buthedidn’tslouch.Hisoddgracemeantsquareshouldersandastraightspine.“So,what’veImissed?”

Heather consulted hernotes. “The world’s highestvintage, the only vintage tobepersonallyapprovedbytheCrown Princess of Sweden,and one flavored withespresso.”The young man made a

face. “Toute la nuitlongtemps?”“That’stheone.Whatdoes

itmean?”“All night long.” He

offered a subtle sneer. “That

stuff is a crime againsttongues.”She didn’t know which

affected her more—that heautomaticallyknew thenameof a rare vintage, or how hismention of tongues draggedher attention back to hismouth.Whatwouldittaketoget him to smile again? Shehadn’tfeltthatparticularrushofoh,helloinages.AndtheFrench.God.Even

if he was just a practiced

wine snob, his low voicemadelovetoeachsyllable.“Would you like a

wristband?” She assumed aguy so young wouldn’t havefive hundred dollars to blowonawine-tastingevent.But he surprised her again

by pulling back his cuff.There on his wrist, nestlednext to an exquisite Omegadresswatch,was one of TheMagazine’swristbands.“I’ve never been a fan of

kitsch,” he said, frowning atthetackymagentathing.“ButI’ll endure just aboutanythingfornovelty.”The oddly suggestive

timbre of his words hadHeathershakingherhead.Hehad some nerve. She’d givehim that.ButhisOmegaandfine wool suit forced her toreassess her initialimpression. Either he camefrom money or tried veryhard to look like it. In Las

Vegas, one could never besure.Heather couldn’t decide

whether she wanted him tostay or hit the road. Heperched smack betweenunsettlingandinteresting.“You’re here alone?” she

asked.“Notanymore.”Oncemoreheunfurledthat

slow smile, dimples and all.Theeffectwaselemental,likebeing chilled by the wind or

warmedbythesun.ThistimeHeather’s physical reactionwasn’t goose bumps but thesubtle tightening of hernipples. His dark, narroweyescrinkledat theedges,asif he knew what she wasfeeling.“We’ll see,” she managed

tosay.“Actually, I only stopped

bytothankyou.”“Forwhat?”Heangled that slinkygaze

toward her cleavage. “Forbeingsogenerous.”The camisole she wore

wasn’t exactly revealing,especially not when toppedbyacashmereblazer,butanytime her bust line met withsilk and lace, men drooled.Or…appreciated, as this oneseemedtodo.Ha. Man. He was a snot-

nosed punk who thought hecould drop sexy innuendosand keep up with a woman

who’d learned hard lessonsaboutslickbastards.Heather leaned against the

table, intentionally posturingto give him a better view.“You’re an arrogant littleprick,aren’tyou?”“It’s not little,” he said.

“Myprick,thatis.”A clamped-down part of

her unexpectedly relaxed.Whywasn’tshecreepedout?Or laughing her ass off?Either reaction seemed more

appropriate than wanting totellhimtoproveit.Thewaitress returned, that

electric-blue dress leavingnothing to the imagination.The young man, however,onlytookhiseyesoffHeatherto pick up the latest winesample.Ratherthansavorandconsider the bouquet, hedowneditinasinglegulp.Heather found herself

staringandunwilling tostop.Thecontrastbetweenhispale

skin and dark eyes wasstriking.Hehaddarkhairtoo,buzzed short with almostmilitary precision. Thatcertainly didn’t fit with hissuit or his smooth, angelicfeatures,butthecontradictionwas delicious. No tellingwhat was true and what wasutter bullshit. He probablyknewasmuch,usingittohisadvantage over unsuspectingfemales.Heather wasn’t

unsuspecting.But shewasn’timmune,either.Hematchedheraggressive

posture. His straight backmade him look continuouslyeager. “No answer to thatrather forward comment. I’mdisappointed.”“Silence or derision were

my options. It’s too early inour acquaintance to discussthesizeofyourprick.”“I don’t think that’s true,”

hesaid.“I’mJon,bytheway.

What’syourname?”“Heather.”“You don’t look like a

Heather.”“Sorry,” she said tartly.

“WhatdoIlooklike?”He tilted his head. She

felt…assessed. Keenly awareof herself as a woman.Because of him. “Moreexotic. Definitely morecurvaceous. Evangeline,maybe?”Heather shivered. Shewas

getting ticked off at this Joncharacter.He said everythinglike a dare. And it had beenyears since she’d been therecklesssoulwhoindulgedindares.Theyalwaysgotoutofhand. The hurt was neverworththerisk,especiallynowthat she had a career worthprotecting.“Sorry, no such luck,” she

said,tryingtostaycasual.Hiseyes weren’t letting thathappen. “Just the hazard of

beingbornagirlin1981.”“How about your middle

name?Anybetterluck?”“Crystal.”He feigned the

disappointment of a near-miss. “Oooh, another strike.You only have one morechance.”“So if my last name is

Poots or Fusty orHogblossom…?”“Then I’m afraid my

appreciation of your breasts

will be the closest we get tocarnal knowledge.” Heshrugged. “Standards, yousee.”“What’syours?”“Mylastname?Carlisle.”“Niceone.”“Itis,isn’tit?Butquidpro

quo. Your turn.” His voicewas surprisingly low forsomeone so young, a softrumble that tickledunderherskin.“It’sMorris.”

“Andthedamselissaved,”hesaidwithagrin.“You approve?” Heather

almost frowned. Where thehellhadthatbreathyquestioncomefrom?“Verymuch.” JonCarlisle

pickedherhandoff the tableand kissed her knuckles. Forthe briefest moment, she’dbeen sure he would biteinstead of kiss. “It’s apleasure to meet you, Ms.Morris.”

ChapterTwo

JonCarlisle knewwomen.Most of all, he likedwomen.Each possessed somethingunique and appreciable.Whether the curve of anelegant neck or the perfectsymmetry of gracefulcollarbones, he had long agomade it his duty to find the

special facets ineachwomanhemet.Heather Crystal Morris,

despiteherratherdatedname,was the type to be savored.Rich dark hair had beenbarely swept away from herface and knotted at the napeof her neck, leaving herclassical features prominent.Hereyeswerepaleblue, likethe sky at high altitude, andshe had a sultry way oflookingathimfromunderthe

dark slashes of her eyebrows—as if she were challenginghim.Jon hadn’t found enough

challengeslately.He carefully placed her

hand back on the table,trailinghisfingertipsoverherknuckles. “How is a womanlikeyoualone tonightwith asparebracelet?”“A woman like me? Do I

wanttoknowwhatyoumeanbythat?”

“Perhaps.”She tilted her head as she

restedherchinonher fist.“Ihave no doubt you’d answerif I asked.” Dark lashesshielded her eyes. Thecontrast with the pale bluewas rather remarkable. “So Idon’tthinkIwill.”“Scared?”Her laugh was sexy. No

other word for it. Just huskyenough, it evoked feelingsofbeing wrapped in the dark

with her. That would be amemorabletime.He’densureit.“Notintheleast.”Thewaitress appeared and

presentedtwoglassesofdeepredwine.Thevenom-infusedpinotnoir.Heather peered at the

plastic cup and lifted ittoward a light. “Looks rathernormal, doesn’t it? Like anyotherglassofwine?”After a quick swirl to

watch the liquid climb the

sidesof theglass, Jon tookadeep swallow. “It tastes likeany other pinot noir too.Maybeahintofblackberry.”She set hers down. “I’ll

takeyourwordonit.”A single drop of the rich

liquid lingeredonhisbottomlip. He licked it off, notmissing how Heather’s gazetracked the small movement.Again. “Don’t tellmeyou’regoingtochickenout.”Her spine went slightly

stiff. The move pushed herglorious chest toward him.The straight slashes of herbrowslowered.“Ithaspythonvenom in it.Choosing not todrink it is the prudentchoice.”Jon couldn’t help but lean

forward. Suddenly he knewher type. Quiet. Cautious.Restrained. Not quite thechallenge he’d been hopingfor, but he would persevere.“Do you always make the

prudent choice? Even sayingthat feels like too mucheffort.”“I like my life orderly.”

Shesaiditasifshe’dneededto make the same defensetimeandagain.Before Jon could poke

further,pullbackmoreofherlayers,thewaitressinthetoo-tight dress bumped the backof Heather’s chair. A plasticsample cup bobbled andtipped.

Heather jerked forward,but it was too late. Dark redwinespilleddownthebackofher jacket. “Blast,” shehissed.“Oh!” the waitress

squealed. “I’m so sorry. Letmegetyousomethingtowipethatup.”Butthetraywiggledagain when she reached fornapkins.“Forgetit.”Heatherwaved

herawaythenyankedoff thejacket. “Damn, it’s

cashmere.”“Here.” Jongrabbeda few

cocktailnapkinsfromastackbeside a bowl of palate-cleansing cracker crisps.Evenashehandedthemover,hismindsurgedtoMachtwo.Perhaps he didn’t have

Heather Crystal Morrisfiguredoutafterall.In takingoff thedarkblue

blazer, she’d revealed thepale white camisoleunderneath.Adeepborderof

lacedippedovertheswellsofher cleavage. Her breastswere beautiful, with a niceheft that would feelmarvelousinhispalms.He’dalreadyexpectedthat.Hewassomething of a master atpeering beneath the layerswomen wore. Practice madeperfect.No, the surprise was

Heather’snipplering.His body tightened. He

becameapredator scentinga

vulnerablerabbit.The barest hint of metal

was visible under layers ofsilkanda thinbra.Aperfectout-of-place circle—something to swirl with histongue while he buried hisface between those beautifulbreasts. Something to tugwith his teeth as she rodehim, her lush body workinghiscock.Thatnippleringwasahint

of wickedness waiting to be

unleashed.Jon was just the man to

unleashit.Hepushedawayagenuine

smile that threatened. Nosense in revealing his truedesires so soon. “Is itruined?”“I’m not sure,” she said

withasigh.“Butwhetheritisornot, it’s theperfect end toanawfulevening.”“That’sunkind.”Sheglaredasshetappedat

the stain with a napkin. “Isthis where I’m supposed tosay ‘present companyexcluded’?”“Itwouldbeappreciated.”“Sorry. I’m not in the

mood for placating anyone.”She hung the jacket on theback of her seat. “My friendJenn and Iwere supposed tohave a girls’ night out. Weeven had reservations at LaRocca,butshehadbabysitterissues.”

“Nice place.” Jon haddined there a week after itopened. His mother andfather would weepthemselves to thegrave if hedidn’t occasionally use thepulloftheirfamilynameandfortune.His need for noveltyhad propelled him, not hisparents’ expectations. “I’mnot convinced it lives up tothehype.”Dark brows lifted, and a

disbelievingsmilecurvedher

lush mouth. “Oh, you’vebeen,haveyou?”He made a sound of

agreement, low enough thatHeather leaned forward tocatch it. As she did, sheprovided a flawless viewdown the shadowy valley ofher cleavage. Jon was sweptover with the image ofpushing his cock betweenthosefulltitswhileshedartedher tongue to lick his head.The thought began to

cultivatethefirststirringofahard-on.He pushed her glass of

pinot noir closer. “Here. Tryit. If you do, thiswill be thenightyoudranksnake-venomwine rather than the nightyourjacketwasstained.”“That’s the best argument

I’ve ever heard for drinkinganimal toxins.” She circledthelipoftheplasticcupwithher forefinger. After a nod,she picked it up and drank.

Her throat worked over aswallow.“Notbad.”Helikedwomenwhogave

hesitation the middle finger.He liked themverymuch. “Iwon’t be gauche enough totellyouItoldyouso.”“It would be appreciated,”

she said, echoing his wordsfromonlyamomentago.“Howmuch?”She licked a drop of wine

off her bottom lip—again, itseemed an intentional echo.

Was she teasing him? Heenjoyed that idea, almost asmuch as he enjoyedimaginingwhat she could dowiththatmouth.Dirtythings.Deliciousthings.Her fingers brushed the

lineofhercollarbone.“Whatdoyoumean?”“Do you appreciate it

enoughtoletmegowithyoutoLaRocca?”She shook her head on

anotherhuskylaugh.“Idon’t

thinkso.”The waitress dropped off

another round, thesecontaining a nearly colorlesswhite wine. A whisper ofcondensation clung to them.Cool and dry, it carried thecoldkissofAntarctica,whereithadbeenpressed.Heather’squietmoanupon

finishing her sample sent ashock point-blank to Jon’sdick. “Oh, that one’s good.”She scribbled something in

her little notebook. “Maybenot ‘a year’s mortgagepayments’ good, butdefinitelymyfavorite.”He watched her over the

rimofhisglass.“Invitemetodinnerwithyou.”Paleeyesflashed.“Whyin

the world do you think Ishoulddothat?”Taking her hand once

again, he traced the insideofher wrist. Her mouth madeprettyprotests,butherfrantic

pulsesaidotherwise.Hedrewhistouchoverthefleshybaseof her thumb, down into thesoft valley of her palm. Ifhe’d known her even a littlebitbetter,hewouldhaveusedhis nail to scrape a pale redlineoverhersoftskin.“Becauseyouwant to,”he

said quietly. “You’ve beengood for a very long time,haven’tyou?”She nodded silently. Her

neck moved so jerkily that

she seemed to be agreeingdespitegoodintentions.Kink that hewas, he liked

that. He relished helping awomanfindherboundaries—just before blasting throughthem. “Then invite mebecause you deserve a nightofbeingbad.”Her breath had gone

shallow.Fullbreastsroseandfell. “You’re supposed to bemyreward?”“Icouldbe.”

The crowded wine bardisappeared. Voices fluxedaround them but only asbackground noise. Jon kepthis gaze on hers, willing herto agree. There wassomething about this womaninparticular…Herather thoughtshe’dbe

anovelty.Her lips parted on a soft

breath. She nodded.Swallowed visibly. “Let’sgo.”

Jon escorted her to theparking lot in no time, theirwine-tasting braceletsabandoned on the table forany lucky patron to find.Sweltering air slicked hisneck. He rubbed his nearlybare head.Wearing a suit inthe late July heat of LasVegas took dedication, butagain,hehadstandards.His pace slightly faster

than usual, he didn’twant torisk thatHeatherwould back

off. Back down. Despite astreak of wildness, sheobviously tried to bury itdeeply. He wondered howdeeplyshe’dbeabletohideitifhegotheronherhandsandknees, that curvy ass in theair. The treasure would bedipping his fingers into herpussy to discover just howwetshewas.Forhim.Her steps slowed. “Jenn

and I didn’t drive. Weplanned to take a taxi all

night.”“I brought my car.” He

slung his thumbs in thepockets of his slacks. Shewouldagreeorshewouldn’t.Heather studied him from

headtotoe.“Doyoupromiseyou’renotsomefreakyserialkiller?”His laugh was abrupt and

real. Another novelty. “I’vebeen called a freak a timeortwo, but I swear I’d neverintentionally hurt a woman.

Unlesssheaskedforit.”That line probably

wouldn’t put him in safecompany with puppies andkittens and guys who waitedfor an invitation. But hewantedtoseeherreaction.Aquiet inhalation was hisreward. Her tempting nipplering pressed against the thinrestraintofsilk.Shenibbledherbottomlip.

Goddamn,buthe’dliketoputthose teeth to work nibbling

him.Wherevershewanted.AfterdiggingaBlackBerry

out of her purse, she pointedit at him, then clicked away.“Allright.Let’sgo.”“Whatdidyoudo?”“I sent myself an email

withapictureanddescriptionofyou.Justincase.”Placingahandatthesmall

of her back, he escorted hertoward his car. Soft musclesjumped. “You’re full ofsurprises,aren’tyou?”

“I’m really not. I’ve gotverylittletohide.”He bent low over her ear.

She smelled of expensiveperfumeandtheberrykissoffine wine. “Then we’ll haveto make sure you developsomesecrets.”He thumbed his key fob.

The lights of his AstonMartin flashed. In the duskylightofevening,theDBSwasadeep,darkbeast.Allpowerand growling strength. The

carwaswortheverycenthe’dpaid. The only machine helovedmorewashisF-16,butthat was property of the USgovernment.Heather’s high heels

clicked to an abrupt stop ontheasphalt. “DidyouborrowitfromDaddy?”“No. Daddy drives a

Bentley.”She looked from him, to

the convertible, then backagain.“Justwhoareyou,Jon

Carlisle?”Hissmilebuiltslowlyfrom

somewhere deep inside. Pureenjoyment of the moment.The gathering excitement ofnight.A beautifulwoman onhis arm. A sinfully fast carwaitingtowhiskthemtowardtheunknown.“I’mafighterpilot.”

ChapterThree

“Bullshit.”The profanity leapt out of

her mouth before she couldstop it. She hardly evercursed, especially not at theoffice where decorum andsteadfast dedication wouldearn her a promotion to fulldirector.Somedaysoon.

But his outrageous claimwasjusttoomuch.“It’s true.” With a casual

shrug, he slid his hands intohis trouser pockets. “I fly anF-16with the64th AggressorSquadronoutofNellis.”“Idon’tbelieveyou.”His implacable expression

was one of the best pokerfaces she’d ever seen. “Weshouldestablishthisupfront,Ms. Morris. I never lie.”

Blankness gave way to aboyishgrin.“Well,nottorealpeople. Sometimes it makeslife easier to tell COs whattheywanttohear.”Heather refused to be

charmed. Her dad’s twentyyears in the Army meantshe’d grown up knowingmilitary men of all kinds,learninghowtheyacted,howthey thought. Eventuallyshe’d learned to avoid themas she would an oncoming

freighttrain.Jon Carlisle wasn’t one of

them.She leaned against the

passenger-side door. Agleaming finish suggested ithad been recently waxed.“That’s the secondunbelievable claim you’vemade tonight, the first beingthe size of your prick. Thisone, at least, you cansubstantiate in a publicparkinglot.”

“I wouldn’t impose suchlimitsoneitherofus.”“Proof,please.”She knew it was the truth

evenbeforehepulledouthiswallet because he didn’thesitate.She examined his Air

Force-issued ID, particularlyhisphoto.Adifferentversionof Captain Jonathan Carlislestared back at her. Nosarcasm or teasing there—only the proud, solemn

expressionofaservicemaninfull dress. To know he wascapable of both personasmessed with her ability tobreathe.“Satisfied?”She offered the barest

smile as she returned the ID.“Notyet.”“The night’s still young.

Getin.”Heather slid into the

passengerseat.Heclosed thedoor behind her, which

envelopedher in luxury.TheAston was gorgeous. She’dbeen in her share ofexpensivecars,buttheywerevehicles of understatedelegance. BMWs andMercedes. The toolsbusinessmen used to impresstheir colleagues. This sleek,expensive convertible was arichboy’stoy.Jon slipped behind the

wheel and fired it up. Asound unlike any she’d ever

heardpurredfromtheengine,powerful yet restrained. Aperfect fit for its owner. Theslow, tedious flowofFriday-night traffic as they edgeddowntheStripwasdownrightcruel.Shewonderedwhatthecar and the man could do ifallowedtogoflatout.A delicious shiver skated

upherarms.Jon didn’t seem tense at

all. He downshifted as theyhit another red light. She

found herself watching hiswrist, his hand, his tapered,elegant fingers. Everythingabouthimwasefficient,withno wasted effort, while stillmaintainingthateasygrace.Shewanted to talk, ifonly

as a distraction against hersudden fascination, only shedidn’ttrusthervoice.He pulled up to The

Palazzo’s valet stand. LaRocca’s was located inside.“Andhereweare.”

Heather reached for hercashmere blazer. Evenslightly stained, it was moreappropriate than wearing hercamisoletodinner.“Leaveit,”Jonsaid.“Noway.YouknowwhyI

can’t.”“Oh?”Shemet his innocent gaze

head-on. “You haven’t beenabletotakeyoureyesoffit.”“Not true.” He leaned

across the armrest, edging

into her space. “Your mouthisjustaseroticasyournipplering.”Heat sizzled in her lungs

and between her legs. Hernipplestightened,asifsimplysaying the words aloud hadrousedtheircuriosity.“Heather, c’mon. You

knowLasVegas.Noonewillbe paying attention…exceptforme.”He pulled back andshrugged, as controlled aswhen he’d driven the

convertible.“Youdecide.”Two uniformed valets

opened their doors. Jonhanded over his keys andslipped away, leaving herbehind.Heathersat there, theblazerinherlap.The valet cleared his

throat. After one last deepbreath, she emerged into thedesertnight.Theblazerlayinaheaponherseat.Jon’smouth quirked as he

offered his arm. She took it,

knowing thataverydifferentwomanhadsteppedoutofhisAston Martin—some versionofherselfshehadn’tbeeninalongtime.La Rocca’s was not what

outsidersmightexpectofLasVegas,whereglitz skirted sonear to tasteless. The lobbywas elegant almost to thepointofinvisibility.Notouchshone brighter than the rest.The result was understated,evensoothing.Thedécorsaid

that any patron deserved toknow true luxury. Abeguilingidea.“Mr. Carlisle,” said aman

in a flawless tuxedo. “Goodtoseeyouagain.”“Mr. La Rocca. Out

mingling with the serfs, Isee.” Jon extended his hand.Heather could only watch asthe two greeted one anotherwith such familiarity. ItseemedJonhadn’tbeenlyingaboutdiningthere.“Ilovethe

newwatch,”hesaid.“Thanks,” said the

restaurateur. “How’s yourfather?”“Nothing changes back

home. You know that. Samegrumpybastardasalways.”Heather did a double take.

At themention of his father,Jon’s voice had taken on abrittle edge, sodifferent thanhisotherwiseculturedcool.Mr. LaRocca checked the

reservation book. “I didn’t

seeyouontheguestlist.”“I’m Ms. Morris’s plus

one.”Mr. La Rocca turned his

eyes to Heather, catalogingherassetswithfarlesspolishthanJonhad.“Enchanting.”Jon’s forearm tensed

beneath her hand. “Isn’t she,though?”“But now that you’re

here…” Mr. La Rocca’sexpression turned solicitous.“PerhapsIcanbegafavor?”

“Begaway.”Heather caught his

bemused smile and stifledoneofherown.“There’s a diplomat in

town from Paris,” Mr. LaRocca said. “He’s at the barwith his, ah, companion.They didn’t have areservation, and of coursewe’rebookedfull…”Screwing up her mouth,

Heatherfiguredouthisangle.The dirty old man wanted

theirtable.She was ready to protest

when Jon covered her handandsqueezed.“Makeitworthourwhile,Mr.LaRocca.”“Fifty dollars in house

chips?”“I don’t know. What do

you think, Ms. Morris? Isfifty dollars enough toassuage yourdisappointment?”Heather looked at both

men in turn. This was an

opportunity to take a stand.“Make it one hundred. Andhave your best dessert readyto pick upwhenwe call it anight.”Mr. LaRocca grinned. “A

fellow snake charmer, Jon?I’lltellPatricktosetyouup.”As the restaurant’s owner

went to settle thedetails, Jonleaned close. His breathtouched her ear a momentbefore his nose brushed hertemple.“Wellplayed.”

Her heart rate doubled,giving lie to the idea thatshe’d made the demand tospite Mr. La Rocca. Jon’swhispered appreciation hadbeen the goal all along. Itwasn’tenough topickup thegauntletshethrewdown.Shefeltcompelledtoimpresshimwhiledoingso.Jon Carlisle was, quite

simply,dangerous.Chips in hand, they wove

back through the resort.

Heather felt dwarfed bysoaring ceilings and Italian-stylecolumns.Hereyesweredrawntotouchesofgoldandcolumns of pure whitemarble.Themaincasinofloorwas busy, as always, full ofcountless conversations andthe sounds of games in fullswing.However, liketherestofthehotel’shigh-enddécor,there wasn’t an ounce oftackyinsight,noteveninthepowder room she ducked

into.Thiswastheplaygroundofadultswithtaste.She handed Jon the stack

of ten-dollar chips. “Yourchoice.”“Isn’t that a privilege

usually reserved for thelady?”“Thisismyprivilege.Your

choice.” Curiosity had hermentallywageringwhatgamehe’d choose. Poker, maybe?He certainly had theexpression for it. “On one

condition.”Fathomlesseyesnarrowed,

which would have seemedsinister if not for theamusement dancing in theirdark depths. “That doesn’tsoundpromising.”“You haven’t heard it yet.

Onlyonechipatatime.”Shepaused,thenaddedthephrasesitting on her tongue. “Makeitlast.”“I’mgoodatthat.”He led her across the

casino floor to one of theroulettetables.Asmallcrowdhad gathered, as diverse asany in Las Vegas.Businessmen, elderlycouples, guys on the prowl,obvioustourists—allwatchedas the croupier gave thewheelaspinanddroppedherball.“Roulette,eh?”“Pure chance. One can

calculate the odds but notdefy them. And I have a

conditiontoo.”“Oh?”Jon turned her until they

faced belly to belly. Thoseelegant hands settled at thetops of her hips. His thumbsrestedonthewaistbandofherskirt,asifremindingherhowlittleeffortwouldberequiredtostripitdown.Thecasino’sclear, bright lighting allowedHeather a good look at hiseye color. They were a richhoneyed brown, like brandy.

Expensiveanddecadent.His voicewas surprisingly

seriouswhenhesaid,“Iwantyoutopickasafeword.”Heather flinched. She

couldn’t help it. The host ofimages and scenarios andpositions evoked by thatsimple sentence caused herbodytojump.Sheswallowedthickly.His

lipspartedinsilentreply.Therewasnobrushingthis

off,but she felt compelled to

make the attempt. Any goodwomanwould.“Ineedasafewordtoplayroulette?”“You need a safe word to

play with me.” He wasstaring at the base of herthroat where her pulsedrummed.“Panda,”sheblurtedout.He smiled on a sudden

laugh, showing off thosedimples. She’d caught himout again—risk followed byreward.

Shewasinhugetrouble.“Panda,”herepeated.“Got

it.” The croupier had clearedaway the chips and openedanother round of betting.“Now what’s your favoritefruit?”“Strawberries.”He counted on his fingers

as he spelled the word.“Twelveitis.”Butinsteadofplacingoneof their tenchipson the table,he stashed themin an inside coat pocket. In

theirplacehewithdrewachipmarked$100.“Wheredidyougetthat?”“The exchange,” he said.

“While you used the ladies’room.”“That’s not what I meant

byoneatatime.”Jon edged between

gamblers at the table andmade room for Heatherbesidehim. Itwasa tight fit,her hip pressed flush againsthis. “Don’t worry. There’s

more where this came from.I’m just trying to make itmoreexciting.”More exciting? Gambling

tendollarsata timewasrichenough for her blood. Shecould quote to the seconddecimal the balance of hercheckingaccountandvariousretirement plans. Her mostrecent promotion to assistantdirectorhadnixed the last ofher student loans. Her networth wouldn’t be achingly

small for long, but that onlyaddedtoherfiscaldiscipline.The idea of laying a cool

hundredonasinglespinwaslike Jon and his dimples andhiswetdreamofasportscar:gloriousexcess.He found her ear again

with his rumbling whisper.“We’llmakeitlastaslongaswewant.”Thenheplacedthe$100chiponredtwelve.“Forstrawberries.”“Aninsidebet?”

“Youknowroulette?”“I know gambling,” she

said,notbotheringtoconcealherpride.“HanoverFinancialLogistics concentrates onaccounting for the casinos.Knowing the lingo is abusinessrequirement.”Only belatedly did she

wonder how dull that mightsound to a fighter pilot.Auditing soft countprocedures, even for casinos,wasn’t exactly dogfighting

overthedesert.Heonly liftedananimated

eyebrow,givingnohintofhistrue assessment. “Then youmight know that the odds onaninsidebetare37-to-1.”“I’mimpressed.”“I like numbers. My

professional specialty,actually.” Then for her earsonly he said, “I also likeseeing what you’ll do next.So tellme,Ms.Morris,whatshallwedo if thatballdrops

on twelve? Make it good. Iknow you enjoy surprisingme.”Oh, but she did.Hewas a

manwho,byallappearances,grabbedlifebytheballs.Shewanted to give his balls agoodgrabjust toremindhimthat not everything—oreveryone—wasasitseemed.“The odds are too long to

make that any real fun.Howaboutifitdropsonanyred?”“Too easy. You’ll hedge

and give me somethingcommon.”Herhipmoldedagainstthe

roulette table. If he lookeddown,he’dhaveaclearviewof the cleavage he found sofascinating, but his gazedidn’t budge from hers. Hewaswaiting, just as shewas,to see how much daring shecoulddragintothelight.Takingthechance,Heather

indulgedthefirstofhermanyfantasies involving this man.

She cupped the base of hisskull. He smelled ofsomething like Obsession orPierre Cardin. Rich. Classic.Masculine. She pressedharder, rubbing a little,enjoying how his croppedhairscouredherskin.“Not common at all,

Captain Carlisle. If the balldrops on red, I’ll show youmytattoo.”

ChapterFour

Reflexively, Jon claspedthe soft swell of her hipsbefore he could disciplinehimself. Finger by finger heforced himself to ease off.Tipping his hand had neverbeenhisstyle.“It seems you’re keeping

secretsafterall.”

Even her smile was asecret, wrapping layer uponlayerlikeapresent.“Itwon’tbe much of one if I showyou.”“But what’s a secret

without the temptation ofsharing?”They watched the

mesmerizing spinof theball.Jon stacked her in front ofhim, surprised by hisunwillingness to give up thedegree of contact she’d

accepted—even though itmeantrevealinghisgatheringhard-on. Pressed against thesweet swell ofHeather’s ass,it was only going to growstronger.The thin silk of her top

allowed her skin’s heat tosinkintohishands.Hespreadhis fingertips over her tautwaist.Thewheelslowed.Theball

bounced freely and droppedon twenty-two. While Jon

would’ve preferred thenumber twelve, red wouldcertainlydo.Heathertensed.Hebrushed

a kiss along the curve of herear. Silken hair slid over hischeek. “Didn’t think you’dhavetopayup?”Nerves wove through her

soft laughter. “No one everreallywinsinVegas.”“That’snottrueatall.”He

spread his hands wider,moving to her stomach. His

middle finger circled theshallow dip of her navel,vulnerable beneath her thincamisole. “I’d already wonbefore it even dropped onred.”She shivered. “I suppose

youwantyourprize?”“Certainly.”He’d almost expected her

to hesitate, until she slantedhim a look from under herlashes. All challenge andreadiness.She liftedher shirt

a few inches along her rightside. A slender green vinewithtinypurplebudsclimbedup from her skirt, curvingaround her waist anddisappearing up the back ofherfilmycamisole.Hepeeredcloser. The delicate shadingwithin the vine was script,though he couldn’tmake outthewords.This was no drunken-

sorority-girltat.Itwasaworkof art. Carefully chosen. The

delicateoutlinesandcoloringmust have taken hours ofpatienceunderthetattoogun.Jon’s fingers tingled with

theneed to touch.Sohedid.Her skin was as fine as anyhe’deverencountered.Softer.He’d love to trace thatdelicate linewith his tongue,then nibble his way backdown.He followed the twisting

vine to where it duckedbeneath the snug waistband

of her skirt. There hediscovered another hint oflaceandsilk.She hissed in a breath. “I

said I’d showyoumy tattoo,notmypanties.”“Yet.”“You’re rather self-

assured.” Heather facedforwardagain,butnothing inherposture suggested thatheshould remove his hand. Shedroppedthehemoverhertopso that lace simply draped

overhiswrist.Bravegirl.Herewarded her with a teasing,kneading motion along thedipofherwaist.“Why shouldn’t I be?” he

askedagainstherthroat.“Hasanyoneever toldyou

itvergesonarrogant?”“Onceortwice.Ormore.”“Youdon’tcare?”He didn’t really like

talking to her without seeingher eyes. Considering hermeasured, careful voice, she

was more difficult to readwithout precise physicalclues.“Arrogant is what

frightened people call bold.”Hedidn’tneedtobendfar tospeakdirectlyintoherear.Inher heels, shewas nearly hisheight. Good thing his egohad never been fragile.Actually, he rather liked theadvantages. It made a wholehostofsexualpositionseasierto contemplate. “When am I

goingtoseeyourpanties?”“Layanotherbet,flyboy.”The croupier had gathered

allthechips,paidoutthefewwinnersandopened the tableformorebets.“What’syourbirthday?”Thatearnedhimasidelong

glance over her shoulder.“TheseventhofAugust.”“Notlongoff.”She laced her fingers over

his, across her stomach,withthe layer of silk in between.

“Plan on buying me apresent?”He leaned their bodies

forwardtodropanother$100chip on the black squaremarkedseven.Herasstuckedneatly against his cock. Justas he’d thought. Theywouldfitwelltogether.“Whatdoyouwant?”“Everything I’m worth,”

she said. “Somaybe the sunandthemoon?”“I’llthrowthestarsintoo.”

“You think you’re prettyslick.”Noquestionthere.Justbemused humor. “But I’mstillwaitingonoursidebet.”“Howslickyouare.That’s

myrewardifIwin.”“What?”Afinetremblinghadtaken

over her limbs. He wasperversely proud that shedidn’t back down, despiteobviousjitters.“If I win with a black

seven, I get to find out how

wetyourpantiesare.”“Here?” Her swallow was

anaudibleclick.“How?”Heslidhispinkieunderthe

band of her skirt. Not farenough to brush the top hemofherunderwear,butenoughto make her think of them.“I’llleavethatuptoyou.”Suddenlyshelaughed.The

tensiondrawinghershoulderstight against his chestdissolved. “You knowwhat?Fine. At 37-to-1 odds, the

chances I’ll have to pay outareslim.”Hehidarealsmileagainst

her nape. So many to tuckaway that evening. “Butthere’sstillachance.”“Youlikechances?”He darted out his tongue

and claimed a taste of herskin. Soft peaches and richcream.“Iliveforthem.”The uniformed croupier

declared the table closed andpropelled the roulette wheel

witha flickofherwrist.Thewhite ball bounced twicebefore settling into a smoothcounter-roll against thewheel’smovement.Heather’s breathing went

shallow and fast. He spreadhis hand over her stomach,thebetter to feel the fast riseand fall of her diaphragm.She’dbreathelikethatonherwaytoorgasm.Enjoying the lustrous feel

of her skin against his lips,

Jon didn’t lift his face. Hedidn’t need to. Her lushbody’s sudden jolt told himtheexactresult.The ball had landed in the

numbersevenpocket.“Are yougoing to pay up,

Ms.Morris?”“I’dneverwelshonabet.”“LikeIsaid, themethodis

uptoyou.”Hebrushedalockofdarkbrownhairawayfromher ear. Although he didn’twant to give her an out,

neither did he want to hearthewordpandayet.Ifpushedtoo far too fast, she wouldback off entirely. “You canwhisper the answer, if you’drather.”She turned slowly. The

crowds around the tablemeant they stayed pressedtogether. No way shecould’vemissed the brush ofhisstiffeningprickacrossherhip.Maybenowshewouldn’tdoubtitssize.

Pale blue eyes evaluatedhim, as if he were animpossible equation. Good.He enjoyed being that toughtoread.She patted his shirt along

the line of his vest. Lovelyhands.Her long fingersweretipped with a fresh Frenchmanicure. He imagined howthey’d look when clawinglinen sheets as he edged hernearer and nearer to coming.How long could he sustain

her there without letting hergoover?“Stayrighthere,”shesaid,

hervoicehuskierthanever.“Goingsomewhere?”“Yes.”“Are you going to be

back?” He didn’t like thatquestion after hearing it saidaloud.Too…undisciplined.“You’ll just have to wait

andfindout.”She disappeared into the

crowd.Jonwatchedherasfar

as he could. She didn’twiggle as she walked—morelike she slinked along. Herhips telegraphed everysensuous intention.Unfortunately, a stream ofJapanese tourists following atourguide’sup-heldumbrellaclosedoffhisview.Heturnedbacktothetable.

Whileacceptinghiswinningsand handing the croupier anicetip,hetriedtoregulateaflush of pure excitement. He

had an inkling of what shewas up to. If Heathermanaged,he’dbeveryproudof her—and more intriguedthanever.Shewasthekindofwoman who tasted riskcarefully. The tip of hertongue at first. Not a deepswallow. That made everytiny step all the morevaluable.He gambled too much

whileshewasgone,droppingfour hundred dollars on a

single spin. Seven again,since it had already broughthim such luck. His parentswould be appalled if theycould see him, so it was agood thing he didn’t answerto them anymore.Grandfather’s trust fundremained excessively handyfor pissing them off and forkillingtime.Whenshereturned,sheslid

under his arm as if sheweren’t tormenting him with

every movement. As if shebelonged there. Her fingersduckedintohistrouserpocketand out again in a wickedlyfastmove.She carefully faced the

roulettetableasshespoke.“Ithinkyou’llbehappy.”Slipping his hand into his

pocket, Jon found lace andsilk. If he weren’t careful,he’d come to associate thecombo with her. The tinyscrap of panties was

unmistakably wet. Notdrenched—not yet—but nowshe was bare under hertailored skirt. Any straybreezecouldcurlbeneaththehem to stroke her skin. Hewondered if she waxed orkeptadelicatethatchofcurls.“Goodgirl,”hepurred.That earned another

backwardglance.Blackirisesswelled todeeppools.“Timeforanotherbet.”He pulled her flush to his

hips.“Whatagedidyou loseyourvirginity?”Hot,bright red flushedher

highcheekbones.“Fourteen.”Ignoring a jolt of

excitement,heplacedasinglechip onto the number. “Soyoung.Wasitworthit?”Her laugh this time was

awkward.Roughattheedges.“It depends what you mean.DidIgetthevalidationIwaslookingfor?Sure.”“That’snotwhat Imeant.”

He wrapped his arm all theway across her belly so thathe clutched her opposite hip.Her curves fit the body he’dforged through years ofdiscipline.“Iwantedtoknowifyoucame.”She shuddered then shook

herhead.“No.”“Thatisadamnpity.”“Can’t expect that much

when you’re so young andstupid.”“Ready for our next

wager?”Sheletherheadbendback

to rest on his shoulder. “Layitonme,flyboy.”“If Ihit, Iwant toseeyou

makeyourselfcome.”“Aninsidebet?”“Yup.”“Again,theoddsareonmy

side.”“Andlookwherethatlogic

got you last time.” Hechuckled against her looselyboundhair,catchingthelight

scent of roses. “The houseedgeisjustoverfivepercent.Five point two six, actually.You should know, I lost tworoundswhile youweregone.Don’t play it based onnumbers. Agree because youwant me to know exactlywhat makes you break apart—thewayyoutouchyourselfwhenyou’reallalone.”She slicked her tongue

across her lips. “You think Iwantyoutoknowthat?”

“Maybe.Maybeyoudon’t.But you do want to bewicked.”

ChapterFive

Heatherhadtakenonlytwoloversinthethreeyearssincemoving to Las Vegas. Inthose threeyears,hercontactwith erections had beenlimited to the momentsimmediately before andduring sex. A furtiveknowledge.

Jon had been pressingagainstherforthelasttwentyminutes. Constant. Insistent.Butoddly…polite.Theybothknewhewasaroused, justasthey both knew she was. Itwas a strange comfort to beonthesamepage.“Heather.”Thelowrumble

of his voice was no lesspowerful for having becomeused to it. She drank in thesound of her name. “Theball’sdropped.Givemeyour

answer.”“Yes.I’lldoit.”“Yesismyfavoriteword.”She watched the spinning

colorsandaflashofwhiteastheballroundedandbounced.Howmuch longercould theyplay thisway? She’dwantedit to last, but thatwasbeforeherbodyhadgoneliquidandhot, keyed up beyondanythingshecouldrecall.Thefuture of their evening hungin the balance as the wheel

begantoslow.Jon slid his fingers inside

her waistband, up to thesecond knuckles. Shesoftenedagainsthischest.Hewas slender but very fit,easily accepting her relaxedweight.The tipofhis tonguewethernape.Heather gripped the edge

of the high table, but thatwasn’twhatherbodyneeded.She reached behind her andlaid her palms flat on the

backsofhisthighs.“You’re giving the guy

across the table quite ashow,” he said, his voicerougher now. “Your breastslifting. Your breathingragged.”“He doesn’t know the half

ofit.”Shesqueezed.Jonmatched

it, tensing his fingers aboveher hipbones. He thrust everso gently. Heather bit theinside of her cheek to keep

frommoaning.The ball dropped.Number

eighteen.Jon chuckled. “Had you

been a good girl and waitedtillcollege,we’dhavewon.”“Igetthefeelingyoulikeit

better this way.” Shepunctuatedthestatementwithasubtlewiggleofherass.He pressed his forehead

against the back of her neck.His breath was faster too.“Dothatagain.”

Smiling, she did as heinstructed, only slower thistime, more deliberately. Sherelished knowing how sheaffectedhim.While thecroupiercleaned

up the losing bets, Heatherturned in Jon’s arms. Hispelvis wedged against hers,withhishandsslippingdowntocupherass.Hiseyesweretight, narrowed, very dark.His temple pulsed. Shereachedupandsmoothedher

fingersintohisshorthair.Turninghishead,hefound

the inside of her wrist withhis mouth. He kissed heronce.Thenhelicked.Shewhispered,“Onemore

bet.”He sucked. The sudden

shock of sensation almostmade her gasp. His gazenever left hers. Only theslight graze of teeth againstthat sensitive skin made herretreat. It was too much, too

public.Sheslidherhanddownhis

chest before dipping insidehis suit coat. The wool waswarm, holding his heat. ThepocketbearingthechipsfromLaRocca’swas easy enoughtofind.“Place your bets,” called

thecroupier.Calmly, despite her

hammering heart, Heatherleaned over the table todeposit all of the ten-dollar

chips. If she managed tobrush her rear against Jon’shard-on a few times, all thebetter. He lifted her silk top,just over her tattoo, andpettedherthere.“No peeking,” she said,

straightening.He glanced over her

shoulder to survey the table.And he laughed. Not achuckle or a snicker, but afull-bodied laugh that caughtherbysurprise.Shelovedthe

rich sound of it. Unchecked.Amusement accentuated hisyouthfulfeatures.Heathergrinned.“What?”“You’ve covered a lot of

possibilities,Ms.Morris.”She had. On purpose. Ten

chips waited for any numberof possibilities—odd, even,red,black, zero,doublezero.Thenshe’dchoseninsidebets—her current age, and tocommemorate that evening,theday,monthandyear.

“The house may winfinancially on this spin,” shesaid, turning back to facehim. “Butwewin.Whateverwewant.”“The possibilities are

staggering.”“Theyare.”“Yourbet.Yourcall.”She loosened his tie. As

she worked, she wassurprised to see the distinctwine-colored red of a hickeyontheinsideofherwrist.He

must’ve sucked harder thansherealized.The tie slid off with one

tug, its silken snap like awhip.Shehelditbetweenherteethassheundidthetoptwobuttons of his dress shirt.Hewatched her with a curiousexpression, lifting one veryanimated eyebrow in silentquestion.Tie in hand, she said,

“That’s better. Not soformal.”

“I like being formal. Itholdsthebarbariansatbay.”She smirked, her attention

drawntothenotchatthebaseofhisthroat.“Thebarbarianswould club you with sticksandrocks.”“Thegovernmenttrustsme

with automatic weapons andlive ordnance. I can handlemyself.”“Ihavenodoubt.Now,ifit

paysoutonlyone-to-one,weget a room and head

upstairs.”Thatquirkyeyebrow lifted

again.“Oh,really?”“The catch is that it’s

straight missionary positionandwedon’tspendthenight.Just a good time to take theedgeoffthisforeplay.”“I thought you wanted

memorable.” His handsinched higher along her ribs.Hecouldgraze theundersideof her breasts if he stretchedthoselongfingers.

“You think it won’t bememorable?” Against hischeek she whispered, “Mytattoo, my nipple ring, mybreasts.Allyours.”He cleared his throat, his

Adam’s apple working.“Pointtaken.Butifoneoftheinsidebetswin?Whatthen?”Heather stuffed the tie in

his hands, flashing her mostaudacious smile. “Then youspend the weekend huntingforpandas.”

“They’rerare.”“Youhope.”“Noconditions?”“Other than condoms and

respecting the safe word?None.”He brushed a kiss across

her forehead. “I have a hardtime believing you’re thatbrave.”“You’ll just have to try

me.”The ball was already

spinning. Heather lost the

ability to breathe as sheturnedbacktowatchitclatterand roll. A fine trembleovertookhershoulders.“Relax.”Hiswhispersenta

shiverdownher throat.“Youdon’t knowwhat to root for,doyou?”Sheshookherhead.Rather than tease, Jon

merely rubbed her upperarms.Thegesturedidnothingtobanishtheanticipation.“Jeleferaibonpourtoi,”hesaid.

“Jelepromis.”Breath catching hard,

Heather tightened her thighsagainst a surprising rush ofdesire.“Saythatagain.”He complied before

translating,“I’llmakeitgoodforyou,Heather.Promise.”Thatansweredthequestion

of whether his French camefrom wine snobbery or aknowledge of the language.She wasn’t going to last anelevator ride with this man,

letaloneawholeweekend.Two final rotations of the

wheelwereenoughtoendtheagony.Theball dropped intothe pocket of the numberthirty-two.The word “Damn” slipped

outofhermouth.“You bet on thirty-one,

didn’tyou?”“Yes,” she said. “My

currentage.”“Thatisacryingshame.”“Butnotacompleteloss.”

She was surprised by herdisappointment. Bad enoughthat she already planned onsleeping with this sexy,terrifying jet pilot. Really,that should’ve been enough.As the croupier handed overthe paltry sums for winningon black and odd, Heatherthought the whole thing anear-miss.Aregretwaitingtohappen.Jon took her arm but said

nothing. They exchanged

their chips, then split up. Hewent to reserve the roomwhile Heather retrieved thedessert from La Rocca: asumptuous slice ofcheesecakedrizzledwithdarkchocolate and topped withfreshwhippedcream.When reunited at the

conciergedesk,hehandedhera glass of champagne. Hekeptanotherforhimself.“What’sthis?”“Camecomplimentary,”he

said.“A nice touch.” She

showed off her cheesecakeprize. “I don’t know whatyou’rehavingbecause this isallmine.”Jon sippedhis champagne.

“That’s hardly fair, Ms.Morris. I insist on thewhipped cream, if nothingelse.”Shewasalreadybeginning

to realize his pattern. Hecalled her Ms. Morris when

he was playing games. Hisslip-upswerebecomingmorefrequent. When convincingher to leave the blazer, orwhen reassuring her as thatfinal spin wound down—then, he’d used her givenname. The former ratchetedher anticipation while thelatter kept her frompanicking.Deciphering even that

small facet of his behaviorshould’ve been enough to

break the spell. Instead shewantedtohearwhichheusednext.The elevator was crowded

at first, but they were alonetogether after the eleventhfloor. Jon leaned against themirrored wall, arms crossed,apparently lost in thought.Until then she realized hisgazewasfixedonherankle.He shouldn’t notice so

much. Not about her. Notbeyond the intentional

mysteriesshe’ddangledinaneffort to set him off balance.That he could be studyingsomething as innocent as herankleseemedfartoointimate.Wiggling her ass against hiscock was positively gauchecompared to his deliberateelegance.He saw her looking. A

smile touched his lips.“You’re thinking, aren’tyou?”“Yes,”sheadmitted.

“A good friend of minedoesthatwaytoomuch.Youknow how he found a wayaroundit?”“Ihaveaguess.”Jon looked up, his grin

devilish.“Tellme.”“Fucking.”“Theladywinsaprize.”The elevator opened to

their floor. Jon escorted herdown the hall. He smoothlyinserted the keycard andopenedthedoor.“Afteryou.”

Heather stepped inside…and dropped her jaw. Thesuitewasmassive.Totheleftofthemarbleentrywaywasahalf bath and a coat closet.Beyond there waited a fulldiningroomandlivingroom.Thefarwallwasmadealmostentirely of windows. Shewalkeddeeperintothewhite,creamandgoldopulence.Thebedroom and master bathadjoinedthelivingareas,witha graceful chaise situated

beneath another bank ofglass. They overlooked thepooldeckfarbelow.She’d seen such suites as

part of herwork. The casinoheads liked to showoff theirpropertiesasaspecialtreattoherfirm.Tostayinsuchaplace…?No, she reminded herself.

She wasn’t there to stay thenight.Thewagerhadbeenfora quickie. It seemed such awaste.

Jon shut the door. Theclick barely registered overherracingpulse.“Sorry,” he said casually.

He still carried his tie. “Thepenthouseswerebooked.”“Youcanstopshowingoff

now.”“Iliketo.”“SoI’vegathered.”Sherealizedthenwhathad

cooled the fire. She’dfastened them withrestrictions.Theplaythathad

flavoredtheirturnatthetablewas gone. Straightmissionary, she’d said. Wewon’t spend the night, she’dsaid. That meant curtailingevery impulse todomore, togo further—to lounge in beduntilnoontomorrowandstartall over again. It seemed acrime to hamstring theirpotential.For the second time, she

felt she was living in themidstofafutureregret.

Heather kicked off herpumps.Asighescapedherasshe dug her toes into thecarpet.Jonmissednoneofit,his poker face in place as heloungedagainst the entrywaywall.Such a waste on so many

levels.After placing the

cheesecake in the fridge anddowning her champagne, shereturned to where he stood.Taking the tie from his hand

she said, “You rememberhowI saidmybirthday isontheseventh?”“Uh-huh.”“So we missed that

particularinsidebetby,what,thirteendays?”“Looks like.” He reached

around her nape and let herhair down. That was nice—gentle,even.Thenheknottedhisfingers,tugging.Her decision made, her

breath suddenly calm,

Heather draped his tie overher shoulder and began tounbuttonhissuitvest.“Seemsashame.Butthenicethingisthat it provided someinspiration.NowIknowwhatyou can get me as an earlypresent.”“Oh?”“Forget the moon and the

stars, flyboy. I want topretend we won that insidebet.”His nostrils flared on an

inhalation. He tightened hisfist in her hair. “Be sure,Heather.”“I am sure. I want this

weekend. With you.” Shestoodontiptoes,readytokisshim for the first time. “Withnolimits.”

ChapterSix

With one hand looselytwistedinHeather’shair,Jonwonderedifshehadanyideawhatagiftshe’dhandedhim.Limitless possibilities thatspun out before them. Somany directions they couldgo.Somanychoices.For example, she expected

him to kiss her.Her lips hadparted and her pale eyessmoldered from under dark,thicklashes.Inthehollowofher throat,herpulse flutteredwildly.Hergazehadfixedonhismouth.Jonwouldkissher.Soon.Firsthewantedtotasteher

anticipation.He bent his head slowly,

draggingthetipofhistongueoverthatthrobbingpulse.Herquietgaspwasanaphrodisiac

of the highest quality. Shetippedherneckto thesidetoallowbetteraccess.That seemed the theme of

the night. Access. How farshe’d let him push in searchofherlimits.Hesippedalongher throat

toward the curve of her jaw.Behind one delicate ear, hefastened his mouth. Suckedslightly. She shivered whenhe grazed his teeth over her.This time she didn’t pull

away, not like when they’dbeen at the table. There, ithad required all of his self-controltoreleasehergracefulwrist.Hedraggedhischeekover

hers, purposely scoring herwith five o’clock shadow.She shivered again. Herfingers clenched his openvest,andher thumbsbrushedthetopofhisabs.So, the lovely Ms. Morris

liked a touch of danger with

her arousal.Hewouldgladlyprovidethat.Hekissedthecornerofher

mouth first. Gently. Apromise.He shouldn’t have

expected her to be passive.She turnedherhead, fightingthe fist in her hair and thesting it must’ve caused. Andshekissedhim.Their mouths slid together

slowly.Open,butnomore—until he bit the swell of her

bottom lip. She released adeliciousgaspintohismouth.Herhipssurged,brushinghisgroin.He tightened his hand in

her hair, then forciblyreleasedthatfiercegrip.Deliberationwasasmucha

part of desire as the actionsthemselves. Each movementshould be choreographed formaximum response, orsomeone might go homeunfulfilled.Unacceptable.

Pulling his mouth away,Jondrewherhair downoverher shoulders. He smoothedhis knuckles across the topsofherbountifulbreasts.“Willyoudosomethingforme,Ms.Morris?”Shelookedupathimfrom

underherdarkbrows.“Iplantodomanythingsforyou.”Damn, he needed to get it

together.Hekneltbrieflyandpicked

uphistiewhereithadslipped

fromhershoulder.Lacinghisfingers through hers, the tiedanglingfromhisotherhand,Jon led the way to anoverstuffed chair that facedaway from the wide bank ofwindows. The lights of theStrip twinkled in anomnipresentglow.He released her hand and

sat, hitching his ankle overone knee. Alive withpossibilities, he draped hisfavoritesilktieacrosshislap.

“Iwanttoseeyourtattoo.”“You already have.” The

wayshesmiledsaidsheknewwhathemeantbutintendedtomakehimask.ThatwasfinewithJon.He

had no problem asking forwhathewanted.Thingsweresimplerthatway.Cleaner.Noentangling strings. He’dnever enjoyed how theypinched.“Strip,Ms.Morris.”Her eyes twinkled. “What

willIgetinreturn?”“Immediately or

eventually?”She pushed her hair over

her shoulders. Undoubtedlyshe knewwhat themove didto her up-thrust breasts.“Let’sgowithboth.”“In the immediate sense,

you’ll get my tongue lickingyour skin.” He dropped hisankle from his knee andleaned forward. He slippedhisfingersinthewaistbandof

her skirt then tugged herbetween his knees.“Eventually, I’ll make youcomesohardyou’llforgetthecolor of your pretty blueeyes.”The smooth curve of her

belly twitched against hisknuckles.“Youmakealotofpromises.”“OnlywhatIintendtodo.”Heather studied him. Her

handscoveredhisagainstherstomach until she encircled

his wrists. Deliberately, shetransferred his hands to histhighs.The silk top went first,

strippedoverherhead.Thickhair settled around hershouldersinadarkcloud.Herbody only got better withevery inch revealed. A scrapof cream-colored lace heldherbreastsup tobeadmired.The tiny circle of her nipplering gleamed gold throughthe sheer material. Then the

bra was gone too. Odesshould’vebeenwrittentoherwaist, all curvy femininity.Color streaming in from thegrand windows dotted herlustrousskin.She reached back toward

her ass. A zipper sounded.Her gaze never left his, noteven when she lowered herskirt with a shimmy. Hermound was gorgeous, withdark hair groomed andtrimmed to a narrow strip.

Standingwithher feetbarelyapart,sheprovidedaglimpseofherbarelips.Jondughisfingersintohis

knees. He blew out a shakybreath. “Christ, you’rebeautiful.”She lifted her chin a few

inches but said nothing, onlywithstood his intensescrutiny.Oh,helikedthat.The tattoo began at the

gentle bump of her hipbone

before crawling up the rightsideofherwaisttodisappearbehindherback.“Come here.” His hands

werealreadyreachingforher,to curve around the hot skinofherhips.He turned her body and

traced thebeautifullyworkedvine. The inkwound itswayuptowhereit teasedbeneaththesharpedgeofhershoulderblade.His fascinationwith itwas…surprising. Maybe it

was the image of Heatherpatiently draped over thetattooist’s chair for hours,biting her lip against thesting. Maybe it was theperfectly fashioned hourglassshape it adorned. He wantedtospendhourslearningeverydetail.“Whatdoesitsay?”She looked over her

shoulder. A light pink blushstained her skin. “Thingswithout remedy should be

without regard: what’s doneisdone.”“Lady Macbeth? So, Ms.

Morrishasatragicside.”Sheshruggedasifitmeant

nothing toher, butherhandscovered his once again. “It’sreally more about ignoringtragedy.”“Ignoring? Funny. I hear

someone trying very hard toforget.” Starting at the deepcurveofherhip,helickedupthe slender vine. Along the

wayhepausedtonipsoftlyata bud or two. Or five. “Andtheflowers?”“Morningglories.”Jon only traveled as far as

he could from the chair. Hewas unwilling to give up hisplace. A pull at her hipsturned her back to face him.Her lips were parted, eyesglassy, when she faced himagain. She bowed her headforward.Suchatreasure.

“Touch yourself.”He kepthisvoicesilkysmooth.“Istillwant to see how you makeyourselfcome.”“Here?” She sounded

doubtful but began to.Elegant fingers smoothedover her stomach. “I don’tthink I’ve ever tried whilestanding up.Without at leastsomethingtoleanagainst.”“I’llcatchyouifyoufall.”“Willyou?”“Iwill,Heather.”

He didn’t give promiseslightly. He meant every one—if only to stick his middlefinger to thosewho’dbrokenfaithwithhim.Nowaywouldhelethercrumble,unlessthatreferred to her defenses.Those would be nothing butrubble by the time he wasthrough.Heather started without

hurry, first cupping herbreasts.Hernailsscraped theheavy under-swell, then

circled her nipples. Shewoundherpinkiethroughthetiny gold circle of her ringand twistedsoftly.Theentiretime, she kept her gazelocked on his—not meeklyaccepting the challenge, butrisingtoit.She was beauty and grace

personified. Old-schoolclassic, but the tattoo andnipple ring added tantalizingspice.Onehandglideddownher

body, pausing to dip into theshallow bowl of her navelbefore continuing. Shecoveredhermoundand,withher middle finger, delvedbetween her lips. Achingpulses. Her mouth opened.Pale eyes drooped with nearsatisfaction, but she neverdroppedhisgaze.Jon found his own mouth

slipping open. His handsdraped loosely on her hipsuntil he lowered them to her

thighs. Her muscles jumped.He couldn’t determinewhether his touch or themeasuredstrokesoverherclitcaused the tiny twitches.Herchestliftedonfastgasps.Thewarm sweetness of herarousal was there with hiseveryinhalation.Letting go of her breast,

Heather curled her handaround the back of his head.Fingerswide,shebrushedherpalm over his hair. Tingles

worked down his neck, overhisspineandcentereddeepinhis balls. God, he was hard.Hiscockthrobbed,beggingtocomeoutandplay.Like the touches she

bestowed on herself, herorgasmwasrestrained.Quiet.Though it seemed no lesspowerful for it. Her bellytwitched and her thighslockedbeneathhis touch.Hefilled his handswith her ass,providingextrasupportasher

knees dipped. Only then didshereleasehisgaze,hereyessliding heavenward beforeslipping shut. Her chindropped to her chest as shereleasedadeepsigh.“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Perfection.”He pulled her hand from

her pussy. A single fingergleamed with her juices.When Jon sucked it into hismouth, flavor burst over histongue like the rich bouquet

of an expensive wine. Herotherhand tightenedoverhisskull and her eyes flashedopen.“And now?” She spoke

with that husky tone he wascoming to recognize. “Haveyou learnedhowtomakemecome?”Hestoodslowly.“Ihadno

doubtIcoulddothat.”“Thenwhythis?”He scooped up his tie.

AfterdrawingHeather’sarms

behind her back, hewrappedthe silk over and around herwrists. Her arms formed aboxshape.Shedidn’tprotest,only watched him over hershoulder, her expressionsurprisingly blank. Hesoothed her with a lingeringstroke over the line of hertattoo.“Iaskedbecause I thought

it would be beautiful towatch.Oneof thoseonce-in-a-lifetime things, like the

Egyptian pyramids or flyingstraightintothesunatdawn.”Hekissedthedelicatenapeofherneck,dragginghistongueover three bumps of herspine.“Iwasright.”She shuddered. “And

now?”Hegentlypusheduntil she

knelt on the chair, facingaway fromhim. Jonheldherupper arms and levered herforward until her shouldersrested against the padded

back. The placement of thechair meant her foreheadbrushed the window glass,and her gorgeous ass wasvulnerable to hiswhims.Herkneesspreadoutward,butJondidn’t miss how she linkedtogetherherbigtoes.Nerves,despiteherstoicfront.Breathing steadily to calm

his anticipation, he movedaroundtheroomtodousethelights. One by one theywinked out until the bright

city provided most of theillumination. The only lampheleftonshedaperfectcircleof white over the artistictableauhe’dmadeofHeather.“LasVegasglowsatnight,

doesn’tit?”She made a humming

agreement. “I love cities atnight.MaybeLasVegasmostofall.”“Do you think anyone can

seeyou?”“I don’t know,” she

whispered.“Doyouwant them to see

you?”Heather didn’t answer, so

hegaveher ass aquick slap.She gasped. Then, caressingwith exquisite care, hetouched her neck with softstrokes before skimmingdown to the deep curves ofherbody.He pressed his mouth to

the dip of her lower back,right above the swelling

peachofherass.Heplacedakiss on the skin turnedslightly pink by his slap.Hisvoicevibratedalongherbackas he said, “You’re going tohave to listen to me, Ms.Morris. Or risk theconsequences.”

ChapterSeven

Heather pushed backagainsthimandspunaround.This was getting out of

hand, but not how any goodwoman would fear. She waslosing.Everychallengewasahigh-stakeswager.Jonwouldtake every hand if she didn’tput a stop to it. He was a

Svengali with no fear ofbeing bested. She wasn’tgoingtolethimhaveherthateasily.“Who said you could turn

around?” he asked, hiseyebrowlifted.He was still clothed, for

Christ’ssake.“I used my natural-born

freewill,”shesaid.“Overrated.”“I want to see you naked

too.”

Another guy might’veturnedherbackoverthechairand fucked her. She’d beenwith men like that. Jon kepthis gaze steady, his bodytense, his mind firmly incontrol.Hewasevensmiling,complete with dimples—thetempting smile that had firsthinted at his truenature.Thegamewasstillonandhewasstillwinning.Eventhewayheundressed

was a series of calculated

moves. The buttons. Thefabric parting. The zippersounding sovery loudasherbreathing accelerated.Heather soaked in everymovementjustashehadwithher,untilhestoodnaked.Lean and toned, he had a

street-fighter’s body and anangel’s face. Tendons andropesofmusclecoveredlong,gracefulbones.Evenhiscockmatched the rest of hisphysique—long, arrow

straight,andashardasaglassdildo. He didn’t have anounceofsoftnessonhim.“Comehere,”shesaid.She wiggled forward on

thechair,hopinghe’dgiveinjust this much. With anindulgent smirk, he met herthere. Their nearness put hermouthrightatthelevelofhisnavel. She nudged his cockasidewith her cheek, flickedher tongue along the shaft,hereyesgazingupward.

“I want you to give mewhatIwant,”shesaidagainsttheskinofhisstomach.“Youhavemyattention.”“I want you to fuck me,”

she whispered. “Really fuckme.Enoughteasingnow.”“You make teasing worth

my while. I love seeing thewar on your face just beforeyougivein.”Heathernuzzledthetrailof

hair that led down from hisbellybutton.Thebest shegot

was an involuntary shiveralongthebacksofhislegs.That’sit,flyboy.She’d already come. Even

if she didn’t come again forthe rest of the weekend—whichseemedreallyunlikely—itwouldstillbethebestinrecentmemory.Nowwasthetime to take a chance anddraghimalongtoo.Slowly, she rose from the

chair. Her breasts glancedagainst his chest, and his

erection burned her stomach.Thecuriosity inhiseyeswasencouraging. She’d winanother fantastic orgasm andmemoryofthemomentwhenhecracked.“Captain Carlisle, do you

know the business definitionofcompromise?”He lifted an eyebrow. It

was comical and sexy andterrorizing all at once. “Notmyforte.”Shebrushedher lipsalong

his upper arm, circling,kissingthetautfleshbetweenhis shoulder blades. Anothershiver from him. Her bodyclenched in response. Shestarted mid-spine and lickedall the way up. The base ofhisneckwastightwithcablesofmuscle.She foundaplaceto nestle her teeth, then sankdeep.Hegroaned.Heather smiled against the

bite marks. “It’s where each

party walks away satisfiedwhile giving up as little aspossible.”“What are you willing to

giveup?”Hesoundedhoarsenow.Shewantedhimtokeeptalking, to let that low silkyvoicecoilunderherskin,butshedidn’ttrustherself.Naked, peppered by the

lights of Vegas, they stoodface-to-face. She glanceddown her body. With herhands still tied behind her

back, her breasts pushed outmoreboldly.Hernipples,onetopped by the shining goldring, seemed to be reachingfor him. “That should beobvious. I checked mymodestyatthedoor.”Jon’s nostrils pulsed with

each breath, so much lesssteady now. “And what is…untouchable?”“Myself-respect,”shesaid

plainly. “Ineed tobeable tolook myself in the mirror

comemorning.”His narrow eyes pinched.

Heatherwantedtolookaway—he probed that deeply.Takingnotes.Makingplans.She chose her words

carefully. “Whereas youbelieve your self-control isbeyondreach.”He chuckled. “You want

metolosecontrol?”“No,” she whispered. “I

wanttomakeyouloseit.”“I must say. You are

fascinating.”Yes, fascinating now. All

ofhersecretswouldbehis,ifhe had his way. Then theirgames would be over. Sheknew that through hardlessons. Men tired of girlswho had no mystery left tooffer.Heather pushed that

inevitabilityawayandslippedpast his side. Jon paddedbehind,hisfootstepssilentonthe plush carpet. He was

elemental at her back. Shewas being hunted. This timeshe would not be caughtunlesssheallowedit.As Jon followed her into

the bedroom, however, shedoubted her resolve. Hisexpression was so self-assured. He had no doubt asto how this would end—onhis terms. That confidencewas unnerving, especiallyconsidering how masterfulhe’dbeenthusfar.Sheknew

it would only get better,whichwas as intimidating ashell.“Sothiswillbeourfieldof

battle?”Hissmugtonesettledit. They were absolutely notgoing to start on thesumptuous king-sized bed.Likelyheknewsucha spaceas well as he did his poshsportscar.He reached for her waist,

butsheedgedaway.Ahuskylaughtwistedoutofherchest.

“Nothere.”He grinned as if accepting

the dare while Heather tookthe opportunity to scan theroom.Possibilities.See it theway he sees it. As kinky asyouwannabe.Hereyesweredrawnback

to the windows. She’d hadsucha thrill lookingoutoverthe city, high on thepossibility that someonecouldbewatching.Thechairhad been her shield. A

safeguard.A safeguard she no longer

needed.She licked her lips. “That

war you like to see? Justbefore Igive in?That’swhatIwantfromyou.”A strange expression

passedoverhisface.His lipsparted in the way that spedherbloodandwetherthighs.The tension around his eyesfaded. He looked nearly asyoungashisfeaturesinsisted.

“I almost believe you coulddoit.”Withoutsayingaword,she

strolled the length of thebedroom, drawn to thewindowslikeabugtoalight.Jon’s gaze sizzled along herspine. She could almost hearhiscuriosity,almosttasteit.After stepping around the

long chaise, she faced thecity.Entirelynude.Herarmsstill loosely bound.Anticipation wiggled under

herskin.Shesteppedforwarduntil her nipples touched thewindow. The ring made thesmallest clink. She pressed,kept pressing, until her torsowasflush,herthighsspread.He could leave her there,

she realizedwith a tremorofdread. Jon Carlisle couldleave her pressed against theglass,herbodyexposedtothewholeStrip.Thatwouldbedevastating.But then his heat pushed

against her back. Such acontrast to the cool window.“What a picture you make.”He traced a finger along herside. “This tattoo says moreand more about you withevery passing second. Youpushitaway,don’tyou?”“Yes.”“And what fear are you

pushingawayrightnow?”Sheturnedherfacesothat

her cheek touched theimplacableglass.“Thatyou’ll

leavemehere.”“Standing against the

window,withnoonetocomeplay?”“Yes.”He brushed his fingers

alongthebacksofherthighs.“Thatwouldbean incrediblewaste.Because,mydearMs.Morris,” he said against hershoulder, “I cannot recall amoreeroticsight.”Reliefcoursedthroughher,

a reward for her daring. His

appreciationwasthestrongestaphrodisiac. The sound of acondom wrapper jacked herneed even higher. So wetnow, her inner thighs slick,she shifted to try to relievethe rekindled ache. Soon hewould touch her. Soon hewouldbeinsideher.His hands gently spread

her open. He was sodeliberate,evennow,pushingup and in with a long, slowthrust.Sensationsurgedfrom

that contact. He filled hercompletely, stretching her,radiating fiery sparks ofpleasureoutfromwheretheyjoined.Hisgroinnestledflushto her ass. Heather moanedagain as he pressed her flatagainst the window. Herbreathedfoggedtheglass.“Whatmustyoulooklike,”

hesaidnearherear,hisvoicestrained. “I can onlyimagine.”“Andyoulikethat.”

“God,yes.”His pace quickened much

faster than she’d expected.Perhaps the man had limitstoo. His cock was gloriouslyhard, so long that eachdriving thrust reverberatedtowardherbelly.Therhythmhe established was just…perfect. Quick, steady, deep.He foundherhipswith tensehands, gripping in time withhisstrokes.Heather lostherself in that

rhythm, pounding andbuilding so strongly that itblotted out thought. Onlysound and sensationremained, climbing. Jon’sbreathing rasped. She had tohold on a little longer,resisting an orgasm thatthreatenedlikeatidalwave.He unexpectedlywithdrew

butdidn’t leave,didn’t tease.Instead he cupped fourfingers up inside her andscooped away her flood of

moisture. He slid his handdownherthighs,paintingherownarousalonherskin.Heather shook with want

as he pulled her back fromthe glass and bent her at thewaist. Untying her arms,which tingled with a rush ofreturning sensation, Jonpressedherhandsagainst theglass. Slippery masculinefingerstwinedwithhers.Histhrustingreturnwasall

the more powerful for the

fresh friction. Their bodiesslapped and pulsed, workingat finding their rhythm onceagain. Jon teased her nipplering,herclit,but thensettledhis forearm lengthwise alongherspine.Hepushed.Hard.Theforcearchedherback,

bowing her deeply, andrearedher assup tomeethisassault. He grunted softlywith each ramming thrust.His forearm pressed acounterpoint pressure to his

cock.Paingatheredalongherspine, just as immeasurablepleasure built where heworked. Itwas all toomuch.She wanted him to stop,wantedtousethesafeword.ThatthoughtmadeHeather

clenchher teeth.Noway.Nowaywas he breaking her soeasily.Sheknewhewas thatpowerful,thatdangerous.Theonly escape was to comebeforeshegavein.Her body burst apart. A

fiery climax sizzled up fromher cunt. She clenched andtrembled. The blinding hazenearly obliterated her plan,but she nudged it away justenough—just enough toshoveJonback.Free of him, Heather

turned against the window.She pushed her stiff fingershardagainstherclit,pressing,as the waves continued tocrash and throb. Knees soft,she slid down. The sweat on

her back squeaked along theglass. All the while shewatched Jon’s dazed,bewildered expression. Shelanded on the carpeted floor,her knees splayed.The angleof her crisscrossed forearmsthrustherbreastsforward.“Come on my tits,” she

gasped.Jonblinked.“Fuckit.”He stripped his condom

with a quick snap. Dick inhand, he closed the scant

distance between them andjerked. Faster, faster, heworkedhiscockfromballstohead and back again. Hepanted through his openmouth, eyes black. Thetendons along his wrist andforearm bulged with thestrainuntil,atlast,hegroanedlongandloud.Hotcomeshotacrossherbreasts.He sagged to the floor,

kneeling between her openthighs.

Heather leaned her headagainsttheglass,smiling.Shegrabbed thebackofhisneckand pulled his face betweenherbreasts.“Clean me up,” she

whispered.Hestrokedhistongueover

skin sleeked with his hotrelease.Lapped itupwithouthesitation.Sheheldhimthereas he finished, moaned andcollapsedagainstherbody.

ChapterEight

Jon pushed his foreheadagainst the coolwindow, butnothing couldwipe away theslide of his chest overHeather’s. Neither would hewant it to be otherwise. Herbodywaseverythinglushandwicked.Andhermind…

Being pressed against herwas worth every moment.Theirnighthadbeennothingshortofremarkable.He’d mapped it out from

the moment he bent herforward over the chair in theliving room. He’d meant toget thecheesecakeoutof thefridge and put the whippedcreamtodelectablepurposes.ButHeather…Heather had taken the

wheel and jerked them into

another lane. Jon flew jetsand drove an Aston Martin.Givingup thewheelwasnotcomfortable. But it wascertainlyinteresting.And she hadn’t stopped at

his orgasm. Forcing him tolick his come off her breastshad been nothing short ofnuclear—an element of kinkhe’dnevertried.Theultimatenovelty.His face hidden by the

window and tucked against

the crook of her neck, he lethis defenses drop.No plasticgrins and calculated moves.Just satisfaction. A slowbreatheasedthetensioninhischest.Before he crushed her, he

pushed off and rolled to theside. The glass slid againsthis back, further cooling hisskin. His knees feltsuspiciously loose as hestretched straight. The carpetrubbedhisass.

He spun out a slow smile,as if his chest wasn’t stillheaving with one of his bestorgasms in years. “Whatwould you estimate thatpayoffat?”Thecurlofhermouthwas

mostly contented, but hethought he saw a gleamingblade of challenge. Maybethatwasonlyhissurprise.Orhisdeterminationnot to let ithappenagain.“Thirty-seven to one,” she

said.“Easily.”He pushed to his feet and

held out a hand to help herup.Healmostexpectedhertopass, to stand on her own.She seemed determined tocome at him from an equalfooting.But surprise was among

hermostpotentweapons.Shegracefully slipped slenderfingersintohis.After the last hour, he

oughttohavebeenspent.The

soft slide of her skin provedotherwise. His continuedinterestwasstokedbytheLasVegaslightsgleamingoffwetstreaks crisscrossing hermagnificenttits.She followed his gaze

downthenlaughedhuskily.“Isuppose I should get cleanedup.”Henodded,intendingtolet

herwalkpasthimtowardthebathroom.Instead, one sharp tug

yanked her close. He wasquicklycomingtorelishtheirnear-perfect match in height.Herhipsnudgedhisgroinandher breasts pillowed againsthischest.Heangledherface.By all rights, their kiss

should have been easy.Relaxed. They’d alreadytakentheedgeoff.Butitwasn’t.Teeth clicked together.

Lips claimed and took. Hermouthstoleeverythoughtout

ofhisheaduntilhedevolvedinto the rough, rude kid he’dnever been. Their tonguesfought. In the swirling cloudof heat that swept betweenthem, Jon probably gaveaway too much of hissurprise. He was verging onconfused.Thatwouldneverdo.Heather pulled away first.

Silvery-blue eyes studiedhim.Theshieldofher lasheskept her thoughts tucked

down. She lifted a hand tocurl over his jaw. For asecond he thought he’d wonthe round, but then shestepped awaywith a soft patto his cheek and another ofthosefuckingsecretsmiles.The bathroom door closed

withaquietsnick.Jon stood in themiddle of

the bedroom. He rubbed ahand over his crown. Hedidn’t find anything close tothe tingling effect he’d felt

when Heather did the samething.Shaking his head, he

ducked into the half bath inthe other room to clean up.With any otherwoman, he’dhave followed her into thatbastion of marble and brassandpotentialsin.Heneededamoment.After wiping up and

pulling his boxer briefs backon, he grabbed a miniaturebottle of scotch from the

minibartopouritintoaglass.It was no Glenrothes, but itwould do. The sharp burn ofthe liquor slipped down histhroat, chasing away hislingering…confusion, hesupposed. Putting a name onsomething so ephemeral wasdifficult,buthewould.Somehow he was drawn

back to the wide bank ofwindows. He’d get herproppedonthatchairthewayheenvisioned,onewayorthe

other.A quiet step was almost

muffled by the thick carpet.Heather had wrapped herbody in one of the plushwhite robes that camecomplimentarywiththesuite.The belt was tied in a firmknot,butherfingertipsgrazedbackandforthoverherupperchest,asifshestillthoughtofhisreleaseonherskin.Settingdownhisdrink,Jon

met her in themiddle of the

roomandbrushedakissoverher cheek. “Areyouhungry?I find I’m starving.” Herwrists were surprisinglyslenderfortherichnessofherbody. Tender. Damageable.He looped his grip lightlyaroundthem.She pulled back to look

him in theeyes.“Howeasilyyoushutitalldownagain.”“The highs and lows are

partofthefun.”For a moment he thought

she’dcallhimonhisbullshit.The decision to let it slidewas a visible tug on thecorners of her mouth. “I’mstarvingtoo.Iassumeaplacethis nice has conciergeservice.”“Ofcourse.”Hecrossedto

the phone on the desk thatserved most travelers as abusiness center. “Anythingyou want, from French friestocoqauvin.Youhaveonlytonameit.”

She twiddled the robe’sbelt through her fingers. Hertoes curled into the carpet.“Willyoudomeonefavor?”“Ofcourse.”“Don’t make it all sound

so…generous.Idon’twanttofeellikeI’mbeingbought.”After returning the phone

to its cradle, he crossedbackto Heather. Her pulse wasracing again, but not for anyreason he liked. Jon hadnever needed to buy a

woman.The thought that shemight feel so shabbywas ananathema.“Youmayhavenoticedmy

tastes, Heather? Believe mewhen I say that even if youweren’there,I’dbeindulginghoweverIliked.”Her erotic mouth curled

into the lush smile he muchpreferred. “When you put itthat way…I think I’d like achickensalad.”“That’sit?”

She leaned forward andnestled against his jaw. Aquiet shiver tightened thebackofhisneck.“WhatcanIsay? I save my appetites forotherarenas.”Nowthatwasarallyingcry

hecouldcertainlygetbehind.Heorderedhersalad,plusthechef’stastingmenuwithwinepairingsforhimself.Forbothofthem,headdedoysters.“No oysters, sir,” the man

said.

“How can you havethirteenkindsofbottledwaterandnooysters?”“Sorry,sir.”“Fine. The cheese

assortmentinstead.”As soon as he’d hung up

thephone,VanHalen’s“Hotfor Teacher” screamed fromhistrouserpocket.Heather lifted her

eyebrowsinsilentquestion.He grinned as he dug out

hiscell.“It’salongstory,and

verylittleofit’sminetotell.”He stepped nearer to thewindows for a modicum ofprivacy. “Yo, Fang. What’sup?”Major Ryan “Fang”

Haverty’svoicewasassharpand clear as it was duringstaff meetings. “I just got acallfromLeah.”Jon glanced at his watch.

“It’saweekendand it’saftermidnight.Of courseyoudid.Whereisshe?”

“Some dive bar. Thebartenderwhotookherphonefor a minute sounded reallypissed.”ThatwasPrincessLeah,all

right. Fellow pilot Leah“Princess” Girardi should’vemade major a year ago, butshe was too reckless. Wild.She still lived like a sororitygirlonspringbreak.Noneofit impacted her impeccable,graceful flying techniques,but shewas a hotmess once

shetouchedtheground.“If she’s been fighting

again, she’s going to get herasshemmedupbytheCO.”“Where are you?” Ryan

asked.“Canyougogether?”Jon looked back over his

shoulder.Heatherhadtakenahalf bottle of red wine fromthe minibar and wasindustriously working at thecork.Thewhiterobeengulfedmostofherbody,butasleevehadslippeddowntobareher

shoulder.Paleskinglowedinthe soft light. He rubbed hishand over his bare chestwhere a lovely tensionclawedbacktolife.“No,”heanswered slowly.

“Idon’tthinkIcan.”The quiet hum in the

background of the call wasCass, Ryan’s girlfriend. Itwas still bizarre that Jon’sfriend seemed on his way tobreaking up their triad. He,Ryan and Leah had been

friends from the momentJon’s boots touched NellisAir Force Base soil almosttwoyearsearlier.They’d always be friends,

but itwasn’t going to be thesame. It shouldn’t be, nowthatFanghadfoundsomeonewhomadehimhappy.“Yougoingtotellmewhat

you’reupto?”Ryanasked.“Yougoingtotellmewhat

Cassiswearing?”A long silence followed,

which was more generousthan Jon probably deserved.“No worries,” Ryan said atlast.“I’llgogether.Dragherasshome.”Jon exhaled a long breath.

He’dlearnedloyaltyataveryyoung age, mostly fromwatchingwhatnot todo.Hisfamilyhadsplinteredafterhisolder sister had died—rightwhentheyshouldhavedrawncloser together.He’d lost hisparentsasclearlyasifthey’d

been victims of the same caraccident. They’d made coldandclosedoffanartform.He didn’t like abdicating

his responsibilities as afriend, but circumstancesmade it necessary. Heatherandtheirnighttogetherwasaone-time-only event. Jondidn’t know how to do longterm, even if he had anyinclination. Best to enjoymoments as they happened.RyancouldhandleLeah,with

Cass there to welcome himhome after he’d done hisgooddeed.Plus the hard truth

remained:at somepoint theywere going to have to letLeahsinkorswim.“Letmeknow if youneed

help,”hesaid.“Naw,I’vegotitcovered.”

Cass’squietgigglecameoverthelinebeforeitwasmuffled.Probably by Ryan’s hand. “Ijust figured it was worth a

shot.”They hung up after quick

goodbyes. Jon tossed hisphoneontothedesk.Heather wandered nearer.

“Problem?”He shook his head then

touched her shoulder. Softskinwas stillwarm from thecuddlingcomfortoftherobe.“No,shouldn’tbe.”“Afriend?”Shesippedher

wine, watching him over therimoftheglass.

Hewasgladhe’dbeenableto get a decent room at suchshort notice. Watching herdrink wine from little plasticcups at the tasting had beensimply…wrong—likeservingtwenty-year-old scotch in aDixiecup.“Yes.But it’s his turn.He

owesmeafew.”“Turn?” Her eyebrows

lifted.“Todowhat?”“To pick up our other

friend, Leah, from whatever

troubleshe’suptothistime.”His gaze flicked over herface.“Youlooksurprised.”“Maybe a little. You have

to admit it doesn’t jibe withyour self-indulgent playboyact.”Something uncomfortable

slid down his spine—asurprisingmeasureofchagrinthat he’d been caught out soeasily. But then, Heatherseemedparticularlyastute.He forced an indulgent

chuckle. “I’llhaveyouknowthat I don’t have to try veryhard.”Gracefulhandsslidaround

his hips. Heather traced theline of muscle that arrowedfrom his waist into the bandofhisbriefs.Shelookedupathim from under her brows.“I’llunderstandifyouhavetogo.”“Notachance.”Hetookherwineandsetit

onthedesknexttohisphone.

After weaving his fingersthrough the dark fall of herhair,hescrapedhisnailsoverher scalp. She bent her headbackashetracedsoftnibblesup thevulnerable skinofherthroat.Thekisshedrewfromher lips was charged.Expectant.“Because I haven’t found

anypandasyet.”

ChapterNine

Heather studied thearrogant flyboy as shestabbed another strip ofgrilled chicken. She’d beenready to lounge on thegorgeous sectional couch,eating dinner on her lap justas she did at home. Beforeshe was able to make the

suggestion, Jon had laid outtheir room service on thedining table.He’dplaced thesilver,napkinsandglassesasif reproducing a manual onbluebloodetiquette.Was thatbecauseofhisupbringing,orhad the military influencedhisneedfororder?Etiquette, however,

generally required wearing ashirttothetable.Jonwasstillbeautifully naked except forhisclose-fittingboxers.

So instead of the couch’sluxurious comfort, she sat atthetableandwatchedhim.Afairtrade,byanystandard.“I’mglad theydidn’thave

oysters,” she said, breakingthe silence. “They’redisgusting.”“But a purported

aphrodisiac.”She grinned. “Do you

reallythinkweneedone?”Heeyedherovertherimof

hiswidewineglass,givingthe

rich red liquid a swirl. “Youknow, you don’t look likeyou’ll be thirty-two in aweek.”She narrowed her eyes.

“What, exactly, do youexpect a thirty-two-year-oldtolooklike?”“I’ll get a plate of food in

my lap if I say ‘witheredcrone’,yes?”“And then a fork to your

testicles.”Achucklingsmilerenewed

hisdimples.“Can’thavethat.No, you look…fantastic.”Asif that compliment were toospontaneous, or maybe toonormal, he slanted his gazetowardwhereher robegapedslightly across her breasts.“Fantasticeverywhere.”“You can’t help it, can

you?Theinnuendo.”“WhywouldIwantto?”Becausethere’satimeand

place for sincerity, shewantedtosay.

Maybe she would’veexposedherself thatwayhadshe been fifteen yearsyounger. Or even five.Heather had no qualms withslinking gracefully into herthirties if itmeanthaving thepresence of mind andconfidence to keep up withsomeonelikeJon.Demolitionmen simply didn’t dosincerity.She’dlearnedthatthehard

way.

Heusedapieceofbreadtomopthelastofthebeefjuicesoff the plate. Definitely notone hundred percent Mr.Manners.“Sohowoldareyou,then,

smartass?”“Twenty-six,”hesaid.Though his demeanor was

that of Casanova withdecades of experience underhis belt, his features wereobscenely smooth. Perhapstwenty-sixwasanappropriate

compromise.“DidtheyletyouintheAir

Forceasatween?”“Might as well have,” he

said,leaningback.“Let’sjustsay I have an aptitude fornumbers that only registerson the charts of very specialassessors. The physics oftrajectoryandvelocity—noneofthecalculationseverfazedme. I can see them in realtime, like amovie reel, evenwhen flying faster than the

speed of sound. I studiedaeronautics and hopped intothe first planeUncleSam letmehave.”“Have you been in

combat?”He slid her an unreadable

look. “The AggressorSquadron is a teaching tool.We simulate enemydogfighting styles to trainpilotsfromaroundtheworld.We wouldn’t be much goodto them ifwe hadn’t taken a

tourorthree.”A funny lurch thumped

beneath her ribs as Heathersipped her wine. She wastryingtoreconciletheideaofJonincombat,notlikingthatpictureatall.So little about him added

up. She could imagine himbeing a genius. That didn’tseemoutofkeepingwithhisarrogance or how he walkedahead of life—not runningafter it as most men did

duringtheirtwenties.Butjustbecause one had a penchantfor numbers and studiedaeronautics didn’t meanvolunteering for the AirForce,letalonegoingtowar.She wanted to ask why.

Instead she took another biteofsalad.“Morewine?”heasked,as

if he hadn’t just impliedhavingflowncombatsorties.WhenHeatherdeclined,he

set aside the small bottle

rather than pour more forhimself. She realized he’dswitched to water sincefinishinghisfood.Thatwasoddlyreassuring.

Shewouldn’t have been ableto trust him had he indulgedto excess. Drunken fuckshadn’t been her style foryears. A notice that herpending enrollment at PennStatewas threatened by highschooldisciplineproblems,aswell as a sexual near-miss

during one particularly riskyweekend, had put the fear ofGodinher.Now if she couldn’t

wrestleatleasthalfthepowerback from any relationship,she didn’t want it. No morewaking up on the floor of aroom she didn’t recognize,and no more shying awayfrom what she desired—atwork or with men. Thatexplainedwhy she’d been sochoosy with her lovers. The

potential for pleasure simplyhadn’t been worth theconsequences to the sense ofselfshegrippedlikeatether.Jon was different.

Everything about himscreamed limited time only.He was fast becoming aspecial treasure to stuff intoher box of memories—decadent memories worthsavoring.He was watching her

quietly,probingagain.

Herstomachunsettled,shepushed away the remainingfewscrapsofhersalad.Uponswallowing the last of herwine,shemadeherselfavow.When she looked toward thefuture with Jon, even to thenext morning, she wouldimagine a wall of red brick.Slamming expectationsagainst such a wall wouldhurtlikehell.Bestnottohaveany.Shepushedaway from the

table and walked to thefridge, retrieving her hard-fought piece of cheesecake.Jon’s gaze followed as shemade herself comfortable onthecouch.Hisdarkeyesweremysterious in the softlamplight, as ifpupil and iriswere one and the same.Thatbrandy color was only fordaylight and bright places,nottheirprivateretreat.“Idon’t care ifyouare all

silverwareandclothnapkins,

rich boy,” she said, flippingopen the takeaway lid. “I’mnot eating my dessert at thetable.”“Areyougoingtoshare?”“Ifyou’regood.”He rose from the table, a

grin crawling across his lips.The times she’d seen himlaughspontaneouslycouldbecounted on only a finger ortwo. She hoped he foundthingsamusingon the inside,at least, even if he tramped

downthereflex.Itwouldbeasad life indeed to live at theexpense of real humor,always calculating the worthofputtingitondisplay.Sheknewthatforafact.“Ms.Morris,youmayhave

noticedthatbeinggoodisnotmyspecialty.”He flopped heavily onto

the couch, his graceabandoned.Heatherliftedthecheesecakeoutof thewayashe did. The tactic was a

diversion, apparently, as heparted the folds of her robeand settled the back of hisheadinherlap.“Youdon’tdoanythingby

half,doyou?”Jon shook his head,which

rubbed the bristles of hisshort hair against her innerthighs. His smile told herhe’d done it on purpose.Impossibleman.“Nowfeedme,”hesaid.Heather placed the plastic

container on his work-of-artabs. One forkful at a time,they traded bites. Thecheesecake was utterlyamazing,justtangyenoughtocounter the sweetness. Thetexture was so thick that itclung to the tines, no matterhow slowly she dragged thefork past compressed lips.Subtle citrus flavored thechillywhipped cream,whichwasanunexpectedsurprise.Itblended perfectly on her

palatewiththedarkchocolatesauce.Watching Jon eat and

being watched by him—thatwastherealtreat.Everylick.Everyswallow.Everyblissfulmoanofappreciation.“YouknowwhatI’mgoing

to do to you,” he saidcasually.Shivers raced across her

skin.Goosebumps.“Perhaps.But I think you should tellme.”

“Why?”“Becausebeingbluntabout

eroticthingsisarousing.”A muscle on his cheek

twitched.“Theycanbe.True.But what about the mysteryoftheunknown?”“You’ve already suggested

that I know what you’regoingtodo.”“You know, Heather, if

youflewaswellasyouspar,you’dbeahellofapilot.”She trumped his chuckle

with an outright laugh. “I’dpassoutbeforeImadeitintothecockpit.”He placed the cheesecake

onthecoffeetableandturnedonto his stomach, supportedby his elbows. He blew awarmbreath against the bareskin of her thighs whileoffering a remarkable view.Beneathhisclingybriefs,hisass was taut and firm, justrounded enough to provideshape.The twin divots at his

lower back were temptingenoughtolick.“I doubt that,” he said. “I

havefirsthandknowledgethatyou’re a brave woman.” Heturned his head to grin up ather. “But you’d plow intosomething ifyoumanaged totakeoff.”“Inwhat lifedoyouget to

insultawomanwhilemakingplanstogodownonher?”“Who said I was going

downonyou?”

“Idid.”“Dulynoted.And Iwasn’t

insultingyou.Youknow fullwell thatHeatherMorris andan F-16 were not meant tobe.”Henudgedtherobeopento her navel and dipped histongue inside. “But Heatherand an F-16 pilot? That’sperfection.”“YouthinkI’dbeherewith

justanyflyboy?”“Since you’d already

agreedtodinewithmebefore

discoveringmypanty-wettingprofession,thenno.”“Your ego is plated with

titanium.”“Saferthatway.”Before Heather could

process that enigmaticcomment, he pushed up onhis hands, levering as ifpreparing for pushups. Themovement rippled across themuscles of his back andshoulders, bunching histriceps into fierce, powerful

knots. She caressed that flexand play of flesh. He waslean,solid,sostrong.Jonbroughtthecheesecake

back within reach thenopened her robe. Deliberate.Controlled. Already she’dlearned to expect pleasurewhenhiswordsdriedupandhis eyes turned sultry. Theanticipation alone wasenoughtomakeherwet.He scooped a finger of

whippedcreamandpaintedit

along her inner thighs, up toher stomach. With patienceandslowmoves,hemadeherintohisownpersonaldessert.Shivering,Heatherforcedhermuscles to relax. She had nodoubt, none, that he wouldmakethisamazing.Jondippedhishead.Where

histonguewouldgofirstwasamystery.Onlyaglimmerofwarming breath gave awayhis intention, just before helickedher thigh.Heat surged

through her limbs. Heconsumed her. Teeth andtongue explored, lips sucked—all the while opening herthighswithimplacablehands.Hemurmuredlowandsoft

against her skin, words inFrench she couldn’tunderstand. Knowing him, itwas probably filthy. Thesublime and the sordidtogether. That was Jon. Andhemadehercrazy.Heather’s hands were

restless.Sherubbedherinnerwristsagainsthisbuzzedhair,then petted up the length ofhis spine as tension built inher belly. He feasted, heteased,buthenevergotclosetoherclit.Soon it was all she could

think about—that place hehadn’t yet touched. Shewantedhismouth there, firmagainst her sizzling nerves.Shegaveherbodypermissiontobeg.Amoanstartedlowin

her throat, lengthening to asound likeaplea.She tensedher nails into the striatedmuscles of his shoulders andalong his scalp. He hissedagainstherskin.“Wider,”hesaidsimply.No talk and no sweet

sentiments, just a quietcommand Heather couldn’thelpbutobey.Shespreadherlegs as he slipped around tothefloor,kneeling.Hepartedher lips, leaned low and

sucked.Her hips clenched, but she

forced herself to hold still.Part of her knew this was agift.Nomatterhowheteasedand nibbled, he was beingrather generous—giving,making no head-gamedemands.Shefelttheneedtosaveherstrength.Jonwashavingnoneof it.

He tensed his tongue,thrusting softly into herpussy. Heather bracketed his

head in her hands. Desiresweptoverher in seeinghimthat way. His smoky eyeswatchedher.Hejudgedeverygasp, every twitch, as hedragged out her body’ssecrets.She couldn’t stand much

more.Seeming to sense that, he

balanced an elbow on thecouch, which freed his otherhand. With his lips firm onher clit, he shoved two

fingers into her cunt. Nowarning.Just thatharddrive.Her body snapped back, thesuddenorgasmlikethequickcrackofawhip.“Oh,God,”shegroaned.For long moments Jon

remained kneeling. Histongue laved and caressed,soothing her back intoherself. Or perhaps he justenjoyed her taste. Heathercould only lie there,momentarily spent, watching

him work as she strokedcircles over his bristly head.Hisattentionensuredthatshecouldn’ttuneoutandcallitanight. Her body—the greedything—stillwantedmore.Then, rubbing the back of

hishandacrosshismouth,heslipped out of his briefs andreturned to the couch.Gloriously nude, he spreadhis knees. That animatedeyebrow quirked as heglanceddownathis renewed

erection. “Heather love, be adearandbringthosebeautifullipsoverhere.It’smyturn.”

ChapterTen

Jon stretched his armsalong the back of the couchand waited. As much as hewanted Heather’s mouth onhis cock, he wasn’t beggingfor it. She seemed entirelycapable of making up herownmind.Abouteverything.Besides, when Heather

eased off the cushions tokneel betweenhis thighs, thepayoff was more satisfying.She ran her hands up theinsidesofhislegs.Everythingthey did verged on slowmotion, like they’d beendipped in spunhoney. Itwasthe tinge of competition.Neitherwantedtobethefirsttosnap.Jon had already given up

the first round when he’dgroundhis forearmalongher

spineasheslammedintoher,all for thepleasureof feelingher lovely back arch into histouch. Forcing him to comeon her tits, at her command,hadgivenHeatherthewin.Shelookedupathim,pale

eyes flashing. Suddenly herealizedwhyhelikedthatcoymove so much. It was thismoment.Thispossibility.Herthumbs grazed the sensitiveskinofhisballs.Sheslidhercheek down his shaft. He’d

beenpicturinghisprickinhermouthevery timeshe lookedathimthatway.He gathered her dark

brown hair and smoothed itall over one shoulder so hecould see her face. The pinktipofhertonguedartedouttoslick his cock, from the baseon up. She engulfed histhrobbing head.He hissed ina breath and clenched hishandinherhair.Earlier, he’dmade himself

back off from the samemotion, but no more. Hewound his fingers moretightly through the strands.“Youdidn’tseemlikeateaseearlier. In fact, I distinctlyremember how you insistedthatIfuckyouimmediately.”Pure challenge gleamed in

herbluegaze.Shecircledherthumb and forefinger aroundthebaseofhisdick.Tugged.“Timeandplace,Isuppose.”He smiled, a little

unwillingly. “More likeyou’re trying to drive menuts.”“Thattoo.”Pulling the hair tighter he

said,“Suckme.”Even when Heather bent

her head and circled thoselush lips around his cock, hefelt…off. Like he was stilllosing.Theshockdowntohisballs was exquisite—asensationworthanysacrifice.She coiled her tongue over

hisheadasherhandsslidupanddownhisshaft.Letting his spine curl, he

shiftedhis ass to the edgeofthecushionandsankintohertender mercies. Perhaps shenoticed his hint because shetook him deeply. Her mouthwasawet, fieryfurnace.Hercheeks hollowed with thesuction.Jon traced the shadows

under her cheekbones. “Hasanyone ever told you how

pretty you look with a cocktucked between thoselusciouslips?”A slurp heralded her

mouth’s pop off the end ofhisdick.She lappedadotofmoisturefromhisslit.“Notinalongtime.”His attention returned to

herthroat,asifdraggedbackto thatvulnerability.Shewasso well armored everywhereelse, including her thoughts,thathesoughtanywayin.

“Butyou’vebeen told thatbefore?”Something dark and

unpleasant filtered across herfeatures. She ignored hisquestion.Again.Instead she bobbed her

head over his cock, hertongue grazing the undersideof his shaft. Her thumbscrisscrossed to massagebeneath his balls. Purepleasure jerked his hips up.He wound silky strands

betweenhisknuckles.She took every bit of it.

Her mouth angled over hisshaft again and again. Thecombination of wet pressureand suction was driving himup over the edge faster thanhe would’ve liked. He’d hadplentyofblowjobs—someofthem damn good. Nothingcompared to the wickedpleasure of watchingHeather’s classic beauty dosomething so dirty with so

muchenthusiasm.He latched his fingers

behind her head, applyingpressure. She only pulseddeeper, until the head of hiscockbrushed thebackofherthroat.When she returned tolick the ridge around hishead,shegrinned.“Bedroom,” he growled.

“Now.”The even playing field of

the bed was somewhere heknew well. There, he’d have

her spread out for hispleasure.Turnthetables.“I think we’re doing just

finehere.”Slow and controlled, he

tucked her hair behind herears.“Sure,weare.Ifwestayhere, I get to come hard inyour prettymouth.But ifwego in there…I get to makeyoucomeaswell.Icanworkwitheither.”Sheopenedhermouthone

more time, and she clenched

the tendons of his innerthighs.“Ifyouputitthatway.”In

aflashshewasuponherfeet,runningforthebedroom.Herwords trailed over hershoulder alongwith a streamofdarkhair.“Lastoneto thebedroomcomeslast.”He laughed. Full-out

laughed, even as his dickthrobbed with wanting herripe peach-shaped ass, evenas he grabbed a condom out

of his suit coat, even as heplotted how he’d make hercrack. The adventure of thattask was obvious now, somuch more challenging thanhe’d expected when findingherallaloneatthewinebar.Stepping into the bedroom

offered more proof of that.Heather had sprawled acrossthe mound of pillows at theheadofthebed.Therobewasjust a pile ofwhite tossed tothe side. Nothing hid her

curvaceousbody.She’d startedwithout him.

Herkneesweresplayed.Withonehand she strokedher clitandwiththeothershecuppedher breast, tracing patternswith her nails over the softflesh.“You lost,”shepurred.“Igetthefirstorgasm.”“Greedy.”She murmured a wordless

agreement.Jon crawled up the bed.

Hisarmsshookashelevered

over her, though he wasnowhere nearmuscle failure.Justplaineagerness.Shedidn’tstopcirclingher

fingersoverherwetpussyashe slipped on the condom.“Sometimesit’sgoodbeingagirl.”He wrapped her wrists in

hisgrip, thenpinned them tothe pillow. When he kneedher thighs wider, his touchwas rougher than he’dnormally use for the first

night with a woman. Butsomething about Heathermade him feel rougher.Harsher.Moreonedge.She didn’t seem to mind.

Her tits rose and fell on fastbreaths, pressed up by herstretchedposition.He kissed her. Poured his

intentionsintohermouth.Thenheslammedhiscock

home.She gasped. Her chin

lifted, baring the tender

lengthofherpalethroat.Herpussy clamped over him—welcoming at the same time.Long legs rose to hook overhiships.Damn how he fucked her.

Jonletgoofherwriststogripher waist. He lowered hisheadtothattemptingcircleofgold adorning one nipple.When he tugged it betweenhis teeth, he soaked up thequiet moan that spilled fromherthroat.Finally.

He thrust into her againand again. Her hips rose tomeeteverypush.He hadn’t expected her to

shovehisshoulders.Her legswrenched tight as theytwisted. Then he was flat onhis back, watching her bodywork over his. She lifted onher knees, palms flat to hisstomach. Her eyes driftedshut as her head fell back.Dark hair tangled over hershoulders.

Jonslippedhishandsuptocupherbreasts.Sherodehim,eyes closed, as if he weren’tthere. She used his body.Hehooked his fingers over hershoulders. Muscles taut, heyanked her down onto histhrusts.His hands kept going—

almostoftheirownwill.Eager to reclaim her

attention, he pressed histhumbsagainstherthroat.Hisarms trembled as he held

back the impulse to clamptighter. Such a techniquewouldskyrocketherorgasm.Heather’s eyes flashed

open. He expected her torelent.Callpanda.Shedidn’t.She pinched a stronger griponhisstomach,keptworkingherhips.Hersheathpulledathis cock. Delicious, hotwavesclaweduphisspine.Pale blue eyes almost

daredhimtodoit,tosqueeze,tocutoffherair.

Jonbackedoff.Unbelievable.He’dneverbeentheoneto

yield. He fucked. He tookwhatever his partner waswilling to give.Andhewenthomehappy.Thiswasmore.Instead he shoved off the

mattress, flipping Heatheronto her back. Their bodiespressed together. Her clitground against his pubicbone. He squeezed her ass

and jerked up into her.Withhis face buried between hergorgeousbreasts,hetookbiteafterbiteofsoftflesh.Sweet Jesus, it was all he

could do to hold back hisorgasm until her pussytightened over his cock. Hisreward though… That wasworth every delayedmomentof gratification. She moanedquietly inhis ear, her fingerstwistingacrossthebaseofhisskull. Sharp nails scored his

neck.Jon let himself go. He

tuckedhisfaceintothecurveof her neck and bit down.Hard.Apure,primalneed toclaim. His orgasm shockedhimwithitspulsingpower.They collapsed onto the

bedasone,Heatherplasteredover his lax body. Stickysweatcooledontheirskin.Jonkepthiseyesclosedas

he tried to figure out whenhe’d lost the thread. When

he’dlostcontrol.Again.Half of himwanted to get

alltwistedupoverit,butthatwasn’tworth theenergy.Notwhen it would take only alittle rest before they couldhaveanothergo.Heatherwasafleetinggifthewouldenjoyuntil he found her breakingpoint.He ditched the condom

then pulled down thecomforter. Heather protested,buthervoicewasquietedby

the slide toward sleep. Shewiggled under the sheetanyway.After dousing the single

light burning in the otherroom, he hung the Do NotDisturb sign and secured thelock. He didn’t want thembothered.Notuntil theyweregoodandreadytogo.Hepulledthecurtainsshut

and froze. He’dunconsciously been planningto settle in for the entire

weekend, which wasdefinitely not his style.They’d both gotten theirrocksoff.Byallaccounts,heshouldbehalfwaytogone.Heather was already

asleep. He slipped into bedandwounda lockofherhairaround his finger. Tomorrowhe’d break down her shields.All he neededwas a plan ofattack.

ChapterEleven

Heather blinked at thesoundofabathbeingdrawn.Lying on her stomach, shestretched slow and deep.Pointed toes tangled in thefar-flung sheets. A shiverbrought her around towardconsciousness.Shewasnude,of course, but realizing that

soforcefullywasafullwake-upcall.She tossed the hair out of

her eyes and pushed off themattress. Jon stood in thedoorway between thebedroom and the huge whitemarblebathroom.Heworeanappreciativesmileandarobetied looselyathis trimwaist.Thesightofhisbarefeetwasa priceless daytime intimacy—abitofcommonerfromtheman who wore a three-piece

suitasifitwereskin.“It’snearlynoon,”hesaid.“Tooearly,then.”“Up now. Iwant towatch

youridemeinthebathtub.”Asmirkedgedherlips,her

tokenprotest.The restofherbody fizzled to life with hisbluntwords.“DoIhavetimetobrushmyteethfirst?”He rolled his eyes. “So

finicky.”“Bet you already brushed

andflossed.”

After a quick double take,he shrugged. “Make fun ifyouwant,butI’mnottheonewith rotten cheesecakebreath.”Heather licked her lower

lip andmade a face.Hewasrightaboutthat.Shemethimin the bathroom and brushedher teeth as Jon stripped therobe. So insouciant. As ifmen built like him justwalked around all over theplace. He seemed to have

neither modesty nor pridewhen it came to his body. Itwas just a vessel to help hisbrilliantmindfindpleasure.Heather had no such

nonchalance when watchinghim. He was relatively palefor a guy living in a desert,but she couldn’t imagine afighterpilothavingtoomanyfree hours to sun himself.Dark hair feathered over hisforearms, thighs and calves,nottomentionthethatchthat

startedathisbellybuttonandtrailed to his groin. Hismorning erection was wideawake.Withherthighsalittlesore

fromthepreviousnight—andfrom the hour just beforedawnwhenthey’dfoundeachother througha foggyveilofsleep—Heather relished theideaofabath.“Come on,” he urged,

feasting on her nakedness.“I’ll sit your pussy over one

ofthewaterjets.”Around her toothbrush she

mumbled,“You’dletatubdoyourworkforyou?”“Miracles of modern

technology.”Heather rinsed. She ran a

comb through her hair tomake it easier towash.Thenshe joined him in thesteaminghotwater,takingthecombwithher.Scaldingsensationgrabbed

at her ass and thighs. She

hissedsoftly.Sotenderthere,the skin so thin. Jonsupportedherwithhisstronghandsas she settled in.Theirlegs alternated. The vanitylight bathed gold over theirbodies, making her think ofbeautiful angels with filthyminds.Maybe she’d harbored the

delusion of wanting to talk.Daylight was for getting toknow one another, right?Heather didn’t bother.

Limited time only. Jon’sproud hard-on was just tooenticingtoresist.She soaped a washcloth

and smiled as she washed,rebuffing his attempts to“help”.“I do actually want to get

clean,”shesaid.“You’d get clean. Just

some places more thanothers.”“I’m an equal-opportunity

bather.”

“Hippie.”Laughing,shesplashedhis

chest. He grabbed up thecloth and quickly mimickedher, tugging away when shewanted towashhis chest.Orhisback.Anywhere.Thepulland bunch of his muscles ashe worked to reach betweenhis shoulder blades wasenoughtodryhermouth.Hissudsy pectoral stretched toaccommodate the movement,revealingawetstreakofhair

beneatheacharm.While Jon finished, she

dippedherheadbetweentheirtangledlegsandwetherhair.She lathered slowly, takingher time because it felt sogoodtoindulge.Shelathered,arms upstretched, while hepractically panted over herbreasts. Whatever he’d beendoing with the washclothstopped mid-motion. Heatherbent low again. Her nosenearly touched the water’s

surface as she swished theshampoo away. Conditioner.Scrub.Rinseagain.“Get over here,” he

growled,catchingherwrist.She flipped the wet hair

behind her back, knowing itmust look stringy andridiculous. But Jon’s mindwas obviously elsewhere.Hepulled her to her knees,angling their bodies so thatshe straddled his lap. Shereached out to grab the

condom he’d left on theclosed toilet seat. Rolling itonwastrickyinthewaterandwith how eager he seemed.Maybe time and familiaritywas beginning to wear himdown.Hewasnolongerquiteso intent on drawing outevery moment to its mosttorturouslimit.Witha lift anda shift, she

foundtherightangleandsliddownontohislonglength.Agroanslippedfromherthroat.

She’d been with men whosepeniseswerewider,butneveronesolongorsodamnhard.Hewasabsolutelyrigid,asifwanting her anymorewouldcause them both physicaldamage.Shescoopedwaterontohis

head and laughed as itdrippedintohiseyes.He blinked, his eyelashes

dark and spiky. “What areyoudoing?”“Washingyourhair.”

His hands gripping herhips, he initiated theirrhythm.“Goaheadandtry.”Heather poured a dab of

shampoo and lathered hisshort, bristled hair. Thecoarse texture scraped herpalms. His expression was acoy mix of passion andhappilypampered.Withmorescoops of water, she washedhim clean. He kept his eyespinched shut. The pattern ofhis thrusts had slowed,

feeling all the more intimatefor just being in her, stillwaiting.When she’d cleared away

all the soap, she kissed eacheyelid. “You can come outnow.”She was done cleaning

him, not done teasing him.Taking comb in hand, shepressed it hard against thebase of his neck and scrapedup to his crown. A hardshuddershookhisshoulders.

“Again,”herasped.Heather complied. His

featurestensedatthefirstbiteof the comb’s teeth, theneasedandrelaxedas thepainwashedoverhissenses.“God,Jon,that’ssexy.”“Noshit.”Withagrowlhefoundher

hips again, guiding a fasterfuck. Water lapped the topsofherthighsandthecurveofher ass. Heather braced herhands on the marble wall

behind his head. Her breastshung forward, swaying, theirweight so noticeable in thatposition. Every bounceradiateddowntohernipples.She reached around and

turned the water back on,which started the jets. High-pressurestreamsofhotwaterburst against her legs. Jongrunted as two jets poweredaround his lower back andburst against Heather’skneecaps.

“Damnhot.”“Suckitup,Captain.”He grabbed her hair in

retaliation, twisting the wetstrandsintoaknotatthebaseof her neck. Christ, he hadfiercehands.Leanandstrong.She couldn’t move her headunless he wanted her to—whichhedidn’t.Theforceofhis pulsing cock picked up.She could only brace herupper body in a way thatdidn’t pull too far from his

unforgivingfist.Even as hismouth opened

to drag in quicker gulps ofair, he wore a beautiful,depraved smile. He hadn’tgivenuphisneedforcontrol,only decided to exercise itduring a new phase of theirencounter—while fucking,rather thanbefore.Her everydirtythoughtwasreflectedinhiseyes.Stillhetestedher,dragging

herhairback,harder,arching

her body. Jon lifted awayfrom the sloping wall of thetub and caught one of hernippleswithhislips.Shewastrapped by his hands, hismouth, his cock. The waterstreamed over her in hot,torrid jets. A lash of histongue sent jolts from herbreaststowherehepounded.Hesnaggedhergoldenring

betweenhisteeth.Eachthrustforced a tug. He suckeddeeper, taking the whole

nipple into his mouth. Histongue looped and swirleduntil she winced against thatbeautifulpain.Her orgasm was like the

sunrise, slow in coming butvisible for a long way off.She reached for it, her bodytense and greedy. Therhythm,thewater,theheat…“Heather? Heather, come

on.Staywithme.”But Jon wasn’t inside her

anymore. He was sitting up,

with a solid grip on herforearms. His face waspinchedwith an intense lookof concern. The water wasoff, but steam hung in thehumidbathroom.“Hey, good.” He exhaled

heavily.“Thereyouare.”Sheblinked.“What?”“Heather,youaboutpassed

out.”The seriousness of his

expression said he wasn’tlying. Worry furrowed his

forehead, the first time she’dseenhimtrulyupset.“That’s it,”hesaid tightly.

“You’re cleanenough.Comeon.”DespiteHeather’s protests,

hewouldnotbedeterred.Hehauled her gently to her feetthen toweled her off. Hisactionswere so innocent thatshe gave up trying to fight.Beingonthereceivingendofhis concern was a surprisingluxury. The world still spun,

the edges dark, but herbreathing slowly returned tonormal.Jon led her to the bed and

pressed her back. Hesmoothedwethairawayfromher face, his caress whispersoft. The length of his bodynestled alongside hers. Hispenis, at half-mast, tuckedagainst her thigh. Tension inhisarmsandbellyhadyet todisperse.“Youwerereallyworried,”

shewhispered,smoothinghischeek.Apparently reassured, Jon

leaned close and touched hislips to hers. Small kisses.Delicate kisses. She wantedto shout at him for suchunexpected tenderness, tostop him from unleashing awholly different sort ofdanger.“A woman with her eyes

rolling back into her head isnotsexy.”

Nope. Didn’t help. Evenhisquipsdidn’ttaketheedgeoffhowbadly she’d spookedhim. And he was spookingher. Wanting real warmthfromaguy like Jonwas likewanting cuddles from aporcupine. Eventually she’dbleedandcry.“I’m fine, Jon.Really. I’m

sorry I scaredyou,but Iwashavingagoodtime.”“Too good,” he muttered,

sittinguphalfway.“Ifyou’re

going to gasp for air whengetting fucked, at least do itsafely.”A memory from their

previous night quivered overher.Hishandshadbeenatherthroat. The feeling of beingunder his control, with hersafetyhistodictate,hadbeenas intoxicating as any drug.He’d hesitated, then backedaway from a boundary thatwasapparentlytooremote.Heather never would have

consideredsuchanact.Ever.Notwithanyoneelse.That heady rush of

sensation as she’d climbedtoward orgasm would notleaveher.Thethrumandbeatof their rhythmstill firedherblood. Neither had foundsatisfaction. It wouldn’t takemuch to get them right backto thatmoment, on the brinkofcompletion.Part of herwas, frankly, a

little freaked by his

solicitude. She wanted Jonback.Freaky,pervy Jonwithhis delicious sinfulness. Hecould seduce her mind andherbodya thousand times ina row and she’d nevercomplain—aslongasshegotto fuck with his head inreturn.The concern that was

almostcaring…?Thatstrayednearrealemotion.Time to remind them both

of what their weekend was

about.“I’dneedanunspokensafe

word,don’tyouthink?”Confusion twisted his

brow.“What?”“Like, a safety signal

instead?”“Heather, what are you

talkingabout?”“Yousaidwe’dhavetodo

itproperly,solet’sbesafe.”Hisconfusionclearedaway

withaquick inhalation.Eyesthe color of brandy turned

dark on a rush of desire.Hismouth opened. His tonguedarted out, as if tasting thepossibilityintheair.“You want my hands on

your throat?” he asked, hisvoice low and horse. “Whilewefuck?”Heathernodded.“Andyou’reserious?”“Completely.”“Have you ever done it

before?”She shook her head, the

pillowcase damp from herhair.“Haveyou?”“Not…” He exhaled.

“Spontaneously, yes. In theheatofthemoment.”“Like last night.” With a

little pout she added, “Hadyougonethroughwithit.”“Believeme,mostwomen

don’t go for strangulation ontheirfirstnight.”“Idon’tdoubtit.”Jon pushed his jaw

sideways, his expression

beset with reservations. Buthis erection had gone intooverdrive.Itpressedhardandhot at her hip. “And you’dtrustmewiththis?Why?”“In there, just now, you

could’vekeptgoing.Aselfishbastardmighthave.Butthat’snotyourstyle,isit?Youwanta girl to know every singlething you’re doing,everything you want to do.”Sheslidherhanddowntohiship then around to his ass.

The forceful curl of herfingers was rewarded by hisnudgingthrust.“Nowit’slikethat snake-venom wine.WhenelsewouldIeverhavethischance?”He’d turned solemn,

despitetheheavypulseinhisdick.Maybe he reached a

decision. Maybe thetemptationwastoogreat.Thedesire in his eyes turnedvivid. “You’re right. A

spoken word won’t work.Hold up three fingers overyour face like this. Got it?Andifyoulookreadytoslipawayagain,I’mstopping.”She nodded as a fierce

tingle of anticipation startedinhertoesandwiggledallthewayuptoherscalp.Because Jon’s wicked

smilehadcomeouttoplay.

ChapterTwelve

Jonstartedslowly,asifhisprick weren’t alreadythrobbing. As if his mindhadn’t been utterly andcompletely blown. HegatheredHeather into his lapand hooked her legs aroundhis ass.Silently promising tomake it good, he slipped his

handsintoherhairandstolealong,hotkiss.Hecuppedherfull breasts to feather kissesacrossthem,lickingdownthecenterofhercleavage.He’d seen how she shied

away from softness. Instead,Heather wanted breath play.Far be it from him to denyher.If she noticed the tremble

inhishandswhenheputonanew condom, she graciouslyignored it. She kept stroking

his body. Graceful fingertipstraced his pecs and the linesofhistenseabs.Shit,he’dbea lot more nervous if theperson planning to wraphands around his throat keptshaking. The fire in her paleeyes spoke only ofanticipation. A sharpenedsword of want. Need.Temptation.Hefuckinglovedthathe’d

done that for her. Byagreeing.

Itwasn’tas ifhewouldn’tgetoffontheidea.His body was screaming

forhers.Once he was sheathed, he

angled her back so his cockslipped through her lowerlips. She was soaked.Drippingforhim.Hespearedhis fingers throughher folds,circling her tight opening.Shegaspedquietly.Wouldn’tbelonguntilshe

was gasping a lot louder.

Chokingforbreath.The trust she’d blithely

handedhimwasobscene.Hetuckedhisswollenhead

intoherassheleanedbackonherhands.Tookhimindeep.Jon dropped his forehead

to her breastbone.Hewasn’thiding.Nope.He justneededasecondtoadjusttothetightgrip of her cunt and thegrasping need she seemed tobeindulgingin,revelingin.Hedidn’thavethatluxury.

Not this time. He had to besharp. Careful. Because shedidn’twanttobe.“Last chance,” he said, a

hoarsegrowlinhisvoice.“You’re not getting out

thateasily.”Curling one hand across

the back of her neck, hekissed her again. Lingering,pushing as deeply as shecould take him. He strokedhis tongue across hers in thesame rhythm of his cock in

herpussy—herhot,wetpussyclingingtoeveryinch.He shunted that thought

away. Had to. She felt sogood. Too good. He mightlose control or, hell, evencome too fast. Focusing onher safety—her enjoyment—was paramount. For the timebeing, she was the center ofhisgoddamnuniverse.Hemeanttoworkherupto

the edge of coming beforewrapping his hands around

her long, lovely throat.Heatherhadotherideas.Even as her curvy hips

thrust, she gripped hiswristsand forced him to caress herbreasts. Higher. His fingerstrailedacrosshercollarbones.Her sly gaze never left his.The challenge in their paledepths marked a bar he’dhavetovault—orhewouldn’tmake it. She released hishandsandgrabbedher fillofhisbackandshoulders.

Jontookoverfromthere.With his thumbs, he

caressed the softness underherchin.Hehookedhisindexfingers behind her ears. Shewas as smooth as hand-spunsilk. Tender. Luscious.Vulnerable.She was wide open for

him.He lowered his thumbs to

the lovely curve where herchin blended into her throat.He pressed. Gently at first,

then deeper when her eyesbrightened.Parted lipsmadeno sound

whileherpelvis jerked inhislap.Fuck, he had to get his

brainoutofhisdick.Nothingcouldblockhertightgrip.Orthewetnessdrippingbetweenthem. Or the shivering rollsofhersleekhips.He let up for a second, so

she could gasp for breath.Then, with fire curving her

mouthintoadangeroussmile,she leaned her chin forwardintohishands.Daringhimtogofurther.Jon wrapped one hand

throughthetumblingmassofher hair. That it was stilldamp at the ends wasshocking to believe. They’dgonesofarsofast.He curled his other hand

overthefrontofherneck.Heather leaned into his

grip. He squeezed harder.

Tighter.Andstilltheyrockedtogether in a slapping crush.Her face pink, she wasstrivingforherorgasm.Tenseheelswedgedagainsthis ass,as Jon fought the toweringwave threatening to crushhim.More.Faster.Now.For all the perversion, this

was more than a fuck. Trustspun out between them.Tangible.Hecouldtaste it inthesultryair.

Heather yanked back,gasping. Her throat workedoveragulp.He lockeddownhislimbs,readyinghimselftohear “panda”. It would behard as hell to retreat fromthe violent precipice she’dencouraged,buthe’dmanage.He’d have to. Her trust waseverything.Instead, she clamped her

hands even tighter over his,helping him choke the airfromherownthroat.Asheen

of sweat filmed her temples.And still she smiled at him.Wickedly.A stream of curses poured

out of him. French andEnglish. Rough and filthy.“God,you’regorgeous.Yourface red. Your body coveredin sweat. Fuck me, Heatherlove.Takewhatyouneed.”Thatseemedtobeenough.

Their fingers laced togetherand wrenched. So fuckingtight now. Her hips twitched

once, twice. She made nosound as she came, but herlips blew wide on a silentscream. More than enough.She’dlostcontrol.Wideopentohim.Hisconquest.Jon’s body exploded. His

orgasm crashed down hisspine,outthroughhisprickinharshpulses.Hisentirebrainwentblackinswiftstreaksofgone.He cranked his fingers off

one by one. Her throat wasred. Angry. But she meltedover him, arms wrappedaround his shoulders. Shenuzzled his neck as his lipsbrushed her shoulder. Hersoft laugh was both huskyandhystericalattheedges.Jon’s skin was too

sensitized. The hard buds ofher nipples against his chestsent shiversupanddownhislimbs.Heloweredherslowly,untilherhair spreadover the

pile of gleaming whitepillows. His mouth had rundry.Carefully, languidly, he

combed his fingers throughher hair until it smoothedaround her shoulders. “Youokay?”Sheblinkedthenlickedher

lips. Nodded. She curled ahand over the back of hishead and rubbed. Her throatworkedovera tight swallow.“Iprobablyshouldn’ttellyou

this…”“I’m sure I can handle it,”

hesaid,knowingwhatwouldcomenext.Sheregrettedit.Therewas

wild, and then there wasgoddamn insane. They’dtreadedintoterritoryevenJonhadn’tmapped.“It’ll only make your ego

bigger.” Her mouth curledinto a surprisingly sweetsmile. “But thatwas the bestorgasmofmylife.”

He forced a chuckle.Damn, she was full ofsurprises. “I’m not even sureIcantakecreditforthat.”“Trustmeonthis.Itrusted

you.”He pushed back damp

tendrils that clung to hercheeks.“Youdid.Thatwas…amazing. You’re a preciouswoman, Heather Morris.What you gave me was agift.”Pale blue eyes darkened.

Something pulled her mouthdown at the corners. “Don’tbullshitme,flyboy.”“No bullshit. I don’t lie,

remember?”She pushed up and shot

him some serious side-eye.“That’swhatyousaid.”“So, more trust then.” He

traced the line of her tattoo.Bending down, he pressedkisses over the pattern,stopping at every flower. Hetouched the tip of his tongue

to the words. “Le passé n’aaucun prise a toi, quandmemeamoureuse.”“Hm?”“The past has no hold on

you,lover.”She cast a smile over her

shoulder.Anenigma.Jonwipedahanddownhis

face, which was damp withsweat.Hedroppedagainstthepillows.“God,Ineedtorest,”hesaidonasoftlaugh.“About that.” She swung

her legs over the side of thebedandstood.He couldn’t believe she

had strength enough to doanything. Hell, he had onlydonethechoking,andhewasspent. Half of that was thewiggling sludge of his brain.He loved numbers, butplanning and strategy werebeyond him. Even withwomen.Heneeded time to findhis

feet.

Heatherpickeduptherobehe’d tossed over the chaisethen wrapped it aroundherself. She tied the belt likeaninfantrygruntstrappingonbody armor. Short, sharpmoves.“Iwasthinking.”“Haven’t I warned you

about that?” His words werelight, but somethingtremulous ate its way downhisspine.She grinned, but she’d

closed off again. There wasno hint of the openness he’dseen only minutes ago. “Ithinkweshouldcallitdone.”He dragged his torso off

thebed.“Done?”They’d barreled past fun

and games when she almostpassed out in the tub. Theworry he’d felt had beenshocking, something he’donly experienced for hisclosest friends. Not for aweekendfling.

She was wearing a damngood poker face though—asoft smile, eyes widelyinnocent.Asifhehadn’t justclampedherthroatwhiletheyfuckedsenseless.Heatherreturnedtothebed

and placed a nearly chastekiss on his lips. “This hasbeen wonderful, Jon. I wantto make sure… I think weshouldendonahighnote.”His mouth opened on a

protest—and snapped shut

just as quickly. The thoughtof begging a woman to staysethisbackteethtogrinding.Hard. Jon hadn’t needed tobegforattentioninyears,andhe sure as hell didn’t intendto start with a one-nightstand.“By allmeans.”The smile

heslippedacrosshisfacewasone of his sharpest. Mostdangerous. “This was thehigh note to top all highnotes.”

Never mind how he’dmeant to lay her down andlickherfromheadtotoeuntilshe came in a slow wave—somethingsoftertorememberaftertheirviolence.He lounged in the bed

whileHeathercleanedupandre-dressed in the same lacecamisoleandtailoredskirt.The strange—very strange

—partwasthathe’ddonethisbefore. Chilled out while awoman prepared to leave by

herself.It hadn’t bothered him

before, and it didn’t botherhimnow.He’dmakesureofit.

ChapterThirteen

Amidweek birthday couldnever compete with one thatfellonaweekend.Heather and two

colleagues, Kyle Yu andGrant Pickerel, went out tolunch with Mr. Quinn,President of HanoverFinancial Logistics, which

wasthebestshecouldexpectfrom the day she turnedthirty-two. Jenn and herhusband’s responsibilitiesmeant partying on aWednesday night, no matterhowmodestly,wasoutofthequestion.The intimate French bistro

wasclassyandverybusy,andithad theadvantageofbeingalmost entirely devoid oftourists. Mr. Quinn wasbuying, which was always a

plus—and an especially raretreat from a notorioustightwad—but shedidn’t feelcomfortable drinking in frontof him. Work meant herprofessionalself.Whichhadbeendifficultto

maintain since her weekendwithJon.Likely no one would

notice, but Heather did. Thelittle things.She’dmissed anemailfromaclient,requiringa follow-up reminder. She’d

beenallbut ready tosignoffonanattestengagementwhenshe realized she’d forgottento outline the casino’srecording procedures. She’dbeenlatetoworktwodaysina row. Twenty minutes. Nohugetragedy.Onlysheknewherlateness

had been caused by fitfulnights filledwith devastatingdreams. Some were touch-for-touch recreations ofencounters she’d sharedwith

Jon. Others were purefantasy, her unconsciousmindtormentingherwiththepleasures they had yet tosample. They could get lostagain,together,inthedarkorin the full light of day. Itwouldbebliss.She’d awoken aching and

unsatisfied…andlate.So no alcohol at lunch,

evenifshecould’veusedthemeansofrelaxing.Workwaswork. She kept her personal

life and her professionalambitions well apart, havingrenounced trusting herjudgmentifthetwocollided.When the waiter

announcedtheday’sspecials,all of whichwere in French,Heather found herself backonthatcouchinThePalazzo,with Jon murmuring againstherthighs.God,he’dsoundedamazing,hisvoiceroughwithpassion.Shecrossedher legsunderthetable.

Lepassén’aaucunpriseatoi,quandmemeamoureuse.The past has no hold on

you,lover.Shespentlonghourstrying

to blame him. Had Jon kepttheir playwholly sexual, shewouldn’thavehadaproblemseeing him again. She mighthaveevensoughthimoutforher birthday evening. Thebest present was one thatcould be enjoyed over andoveragain.

He’d changed, subtly.Nothing she could pinpoint,nothingshecouldexplain.Allshe knew was that his briefbout of tenderness had beentoomuchtotake—whenhe’dcombed her wet hair, hishands so gentle after havingjustbeenwrappedaroundherneck. Such unexpectedcompassion had thrown herblind, idiotic heart intooverdrive. Hoping. Makingplans.

Notwithamanlikehim.“Here’s to Heather.” Mr.

Quinn raised his iced tea.“Manyhappyreturns.”KyleandGrantechoedhis

toast, with a particularlyattentive smile on Grant’sface.She should just be happy.

Enjoy this. Her colleaguestrustedherandrespectedher.The bottom line in hervarious investment accounts,though not untouched by the

market’s volatility, was stillsolid.Shewouldhavemoneyforherparents’future,payingthembackforallthey’ddoneto get her through toughyears.The futurewashers todetermine, not a brick wallwaitingtocrackheropen.The office was only two

blocks away, which wasmanageable in the Augustheat,butonlyjust.Eventhreeyears in Vegas hadn’tacclimated her to the oven-

strong temperatures. Collegesummers in Pennsylvaniacould get warm and sticky,but not like a blow dryerfrying her face. Sweatdampenedherforeheadasthehundred-plus heat wilted herhair.Grant walked beside her,

his broad shoulders hunchedagainstanicelycut suit. “Doyou have any plans for yourbirthday?”Heatherkepttherhythmof

her walk, although thequestion caught her off-guard.Grantwas in hismid-forties, recently divorced,well-established with thefirm. She liked his salt-and-pepper hair and easy smile.The possibility of going outwith him was ratherunnerving, though, becausethoughts of him were stillcolored by his ex, Tina, andtheirthreesons.And no mingling sex and

work. She couldn’t afford toslip. Her promotion and herreputation were simply tooimportant.“Probably not,” she found

herself saying. “I think arental and too muchchocolate.”“I could join you, if you

wanted company. Maybebringabottleofwine?”He held the door as she

slipped into the cool lobby.Air conditioning was such a

miracle. She faced Grant,looking him over with anattemptatfresheyes.Hekeptgood care of himself, whichapparently had been part ofthe trouble behind thedivorce. Too many hours atthe gym…followed by onetoo many late-night cocktailpartiesattheclients’casinos.Hewasanice-enoughguy,

ifonedidn’thaveplanstogetinvolved. The ex, the kids,theirstatusascolleagues—all

toocomplicated.The trouble was, Heather

had already found her goodtime. She tried to imagineGrant’s teeth on her nipplering, Grant’s cock pressedagainstherass,Grant’shandsonherthroat.Shecouldn’tdoit.Jonhadleftamarkonhersex life. She only hoped itwasn’t indelible. The idea ofcomparing future lovers towhat she’d shared so brieflywithoneparticularAirForce

captainwasjustawful.“That sounds…nice,

Grant,” she said cautiously.“Really, it does. But I thinkI’ll have to pass. For now.I’vebeenoutofsortslately.”He managed a wan smile

and was sweet enough tochange the subject. Heatherdidn’t breathe normally untilshemadeitbacktothesafetyof her private office, whichhad a maddeningly perfectview of the Strip. When

emailspiledupandshedidn’tknow where to start on thetasks laid out before her, shelocatedThePalazzoalongtheskyline.Snapoutofit.Leaningherelbowson the

desk, she held her head. Forthefirsttimeshewonderedifshe’d made a mistake inleavinghim.Whatcouldithurt?No.Therewasnothingmoreto

be had from her fabuloushours with Jon Carlisle. Hewasherearlybirthdaypresent—oneshe’drememberwithanaughty smile for the rest ofherlife.EveryoneinSinCityknew how the houseoperated. With eachsuccessive bet, a personreducedhisoddsofearningaprofit. ItwasLasVegas101.Thetheoremofthegambler’sruin—one of the oldestformulas in mathematics.

Anygameofchancebasedona negative expected valuewould eventually exhaustfiniteresources.Suchwastheequivalentof

time spent with a hedonistlike Jon. Each return wouldbecomemoredangerous thanthe last. Hearts got involved.Heartsgotbroken.She wanted her bets to be

as safe as possible. One dayshe would find a stable,normal guy who treated her

with love and respect. Hewould reinforce her hard-earned restraint, not encircleit with dynamite. Therewould be mutual trust andsharing.Likeyou trustedJon?Like

yousharedoneanother?Nope.Brickwall.She tried to work, but her

thoughts were a jumble.Worse, she was physicallyedgy, tense in a way thatcould only be described as

horny.Heather was just about to

headhomeearly,intendingtociteherbirthdayasanexcuse,when someone knocked onherofficedoor.“Comein,”shecalled.AwomaninawhiteT-shirt

and a pair of bright bluedungarees opened the door.The logo on the shoulder ofher T-shirt readLilies of theField.“AreyouMs.Morris?”“Yes.”

“Got a flower delivery foryou.”The woman produced a

slender vase. Gold filamentswove through the delicateglass, subtly catching thelight.Curvedlikethespineofa woman, it held a singlepurple morning glory thatexactlymatched those of hertattoo.Heathercouldonlystareat

the gift, knowing exactlywho’d sent it. They had

parted almost anonymously,butJonhadsoughtherout.After signing for the gift,

she watched the deliverywomanclose theofficedoor.Heather was alone. Herfingers trembled slightly asshe opened the tiny cream-colored card. Its goldfilamentsechoed those in thevase. Every detail bore hisstamp—meticulous, classic,designed to pry underneathherskin.

What’sdoneisdone?Yourcall.Happy32nd.Jon

And his phone number.Thatwasit.She shivered at that

reminder ofMacbeth. Leaveit to Jon to turn a bit ofShakespearian tragedy intothe classiest come-on of alltime. Her nipple ring tuggedagainst her bra, suddenly too

sensitive to bear.Shepushedthecardagainstherlips,asifshe’d be able to smell himthere, but it was just printerinkoncardstock.Closing her eyes, she

fought a battle that had nogood outcome. No eroticimages came to her. NopicturesofJon’sbodyortheirbodies together. Instead shewasstuckontheideaofhowshe’d spend her birthdayevening.Alone in her house.

Sickonchocolate.Hopingtherental was good enough tohold her attention. Thenwhat? A sex toy and earlybedtime?Thevoicesheheard inher

mind was Jon’s as he’drippedoffhiscondom,losingcontrol,readytocomeonherbreasts.Fuckit.She grabbed her

BlackBerryanddialedbeforeshe could think. Herfingertips were numb, her

thighs hot. Every gulp of airreminded her of his handscontrolling whether she tookanother breath. The phonerang and rang. Would sheleave a voicemail or simplyhangup?“Yo,thisisCarlisle.”She spoke past her dry

tongue.“Afternoon,Captain.”Alongpausefollowed.She

countedherheartbeatsastheyspedpast.Herthumbhoveredover the button to switch off

thecall.“You got my present,” he

said.“I did, thank you. It’s

beautiful.” Her slingbackheels fidgeted up and downuntil she forced them to still.“Whatdoyouhaveinmind?”“Dinner.”“Where?”“Haven’tdecided.”“Any place nice will need

reservations.”Hechuckledsoftly.“Don’t

worryaboutthat.”The scream of an

airplane’s engine forcedHeather to hold the phoneaway from her ear.Something primal knotted inher gut, timeless and needy.He was a fighter pilot, forChrist’s sake. He lived fordanger and novelty, aconnoisseur of fine, rarethings.Andhewantedher.That tugged her spine a

little straighter. She deservedto be desired by such amanon her birthday. She neededthis.Again.Forherself.“Sorryabout that,”he said

aftertheplanehadpassed.“You’restillatwork?”“Just paperwork now. I’m

doneflying.”Anothershiver.Jonsweaty

andrushingonadrenaline,hislean welterweight bodyclimbing down from afighter’s cockpit. God, he

wouldhavesuchaswagger.“Canyoupickmeup?”she

asked.Another long silence.Was

hetryingtoteachheralessonfor dropping him? Was heregretting having sent theflower? She curled herfingers into her palm, readytopierceherownskinoutofanticipation.Finally he cleared his

throat. “I need time to cleanup here. How about your

placeatseven?”“Seven.” She glanced at

the wall clock. Four hoursaway. Now that she’d givenherselfpermissiontoindulge,thattimewasagony.“Makeitsix,Captain.”“Verywell.”Heather recited her

address, breaking downanotherbarrierbetweenthem.He would see where shelived.Thatintimacymadeherpulsequicken.

“But you should dosomething for me,” he said,almostoffhandedly.She soaked in the rumble

of his voice. Low. A littlescratchy. He sounded just ashe had when they’d fucked.With Jon, sex anddesirehadaparticulartimbre.“Tellme.”His voice dipped again, as

if there was a possibility hewould be overheard. “Touchyourself.Rightnow.”

A denial leaped to hertongue. Of course shecouldn’t.Sheswallowedherprotest.

Afteraquicktriptothedoor,lockingit,shereturnedtoherdesk.What was the use of aprivate office if she didn’tmakethemostofit?“Doanyofyourcolleagues

speakFrench?”sheasked.“Not that I know of.” She

heard the smile inhiswords.“ShallI?”

“Yes,please.”She swiveled in the chair,

turning until she couldreclaim her view of ThePalazzo. Just that glimpsewas enough to set her bloodalight, as Jon’s whisperedFrench slinked past herdefenses. Heather lifted thehemofherbrushed-silkskirt.Her hand became his hand,the feel of his fingerscaressing, circling, dippinginside.

From the phone she heardthe sound of a car doorclosing. “Now we’re alone,”herasped.“Iwanttohearyoucome.Letmehearyou.”“Ican’t.”“You can. I don’t need

loud,Ms.Morris.Iknowhowyou sound. Just close youreyes and let me hear youbreathe.”Heather pulsed her fingers

in faster circles. The finishwas close now, her lungs

heaving.Shesuckedinahardbreath as a slow, honeyedorgasm filled her world, allblazing color and hot light.She stayed quiet, onlypermitting a slow, controlledexhalation. He could havethat.Therestwasherstokeep.“Merci, Heather love. I’ll

seeyouatsix.”

ChapterFourteen

Sweltering, Jon sat in hiscar.Hehadn’twantedtotakethetimetokickontheengineand let the A/C roar. He’dbeen too focused on hearingHeather. More specifically,hearing her come—the softhitch in her breathing, thenthe gusty exhalation. Just

listening to those sweetsoundswasenoughtogethimgoing.He tapped the phone

against his closed lips as hestared out the window.Technically his only viewwas the side of the 64thAggressor Squadron’sheadquarters, but that didn’tstop his imagination.Heather’s graceful fingers,tipped with the tasteful

Frenchmanicureanddippinginherwetpussy,stilllayeredacrosshisvision.Ordering the flower had

almostbeenimpulse.Almost.He’dspentalittletoolong

determiningwhat towriteonthe card to fully merit thatlevelofinsouciance.He’ddecidedtogothrough

with it because he hadn’tbeenabletounravelHeather.Was she the bold, fearlesswoman he thought her? Or

something less…intriguing?He’dbelievedhewouldknowfromthetoneofhervoice—ifsheevencalled—butanairofmysterystillsurroundedher.The only thing he’d

confirmed was that speakingFrench got her hot. At leastthat was something he couldworkwith.A sharp knock clicked on

the driver’s-side window,onlyinchesfromhishead.Hekept his reaction down to a

fastjerk.Major Ryan Haverty and

Captain Leah Girardi stoodoutside his door, wearingmatching expressions ofamusement.Sighing, Jon pushed the

ignition button and loweredthepowerwindow.“Youtwohaveaproblem?”Ryan leaned a forearm

across the top of the car andbent to bring his head low.Themanwassuchabeef-fed

All-American.Tallasahouseand almost as sturdy. “No,monami.Notatall.”Leah grinned and blew air

kisses. Her dark hairskimmed straight back fromher face and wound into abun that met regulation. Fornow. Off-duty hours wouldfinditamess.“Oui,oui,”shewhispered like a breathlessMarilynMonroe.Fuck.They’dheardhim.He kept his posture loose

in the leather bucket seat,then smiled. “If your onlyintent is togivemea rashofshit, can we get on with itpronto?I’vegottoturninmyinventory. I’m getting out ofhere on time, hell or highwater.”“Got plans, Dimples?”

askedRyan,asmirkygrinonhisface.Themajor had earned that

one, probably a couple timesover. Not that long ago, Jon

hadbustedRyan’sballsabouthisplans—or lackof them—one night when Cass hadshownupinaveryinterestingcostume.“Asamatteroffact,I do. Hence my need to getoutofhere.”“Aw, damn.” Leah leaned

down to look in thewindow.“Does that mean no karaoketonight?”“It’s Wednesday,

Princess,”Jonsaidonasigh.“Don’tyoueverslowdown?”

“Comeon.It’smorefunifeveryone’s there. Bring thechick.”“What makes you think

I’m seeing a womantonight?”Leah only rolled her eyes.

“Gee, because you’re notgay?”“Heather’snot thekaraoke

type.”Butassoonashesaidit,Jonrealizedhehadnoideaif that was true. He couldpictureheronstage, inapool

of white light as she sangsomeballad.She’ddoitwithher eyes closed, ignoring herfear and getting lost in thesong.That would be amazing to

see.“Children, children,” Ryan

said with a laugh. “Can wepleasegetbackontask?”Leah grinned. “GivingTin

Tin crap is my primarydirective.”Herinsistenceonusingthe

callsignhehatedwasanotherof her special gifts. Ryanlightly cuffed her on theshoulder, but his expressionsobered.Jon sobered back. “Was

there something you neededto talk to me about?” Thefaster they got business overwith, the faster he could gettoHeather.“Definitely. Today’s

classes did not go well, andpartofitwasyourfault.You

can’t keep dogging the newguy.Kisser’searnedhisplacehere,sameasanyone.”Captain Eric “Kisser”

Donaghue. The bane of hisrecentprofessionalexistence.Jon clenched the steering

wheel.“Hedeservedit.”“We’re here to train

incomingpilots.Nothandourown squadron mates theirasses.”“Kicking thathotshot’sass

is good training.” He

managed to infuse his voicewithaparodyofhumor,butitwastough.Callingthemanahotshot was anunderstatement. He was allshort dick and big ego. Ifallowed tocontinue,he’dgetsomeone shot down. Oddsweren’t good he’d do theworld a favor andmake sureitwashim.Jon knew he was still

touchyabouthisrighttobeinthe Aggressors. He was

probably too young, toogreen.Most folkswere goodenough to ignore how manystrings his father had pulledtolandJonatNellis.Buthe’dmade members of the 64thinto his second family. He’dneverreallybeversedinhowtotrustarealfamily,sotheywerethebesthe’deverhave.Putting up with shit thatrisked their lives was afuckingno-go.

“Agreed,”Ryansaidwithaslight smile. “He’s arrogantandneedsalittle…seasoning.But not by you. If the COgetswindof it, your asswillbe hemmed up. Prove youcandohimsomegoodratherthan just flinging trash.Otherwise I’ll pair you withanother pilot for the nextweekofsorties.”“And then there goes my

fun.Arewedone?”Ryan’s gaze was steady

andunwaveringasheprobed.His unwillingness to backdownwasoneofthequalitiesthatmadehimagoodleader.“For now,” was all he said.He patted the roof of the carashestoodandwalkedaway.Leah followed, tossing awaveoverhershoulder.Fuckinghell.Jondrummed

his fingers on the openwindowof theAstonMartin.He’dbeenstillridinghighonthe frustration of trying to

teach Donaghue a lessonwhen Heather’s call camethrough. Talking her throughher orgasm, spilling dirtyFrench words out as quicklyashecouldthinkofthem,hadbeen a hell of a way tounwind. Now that outlet haddissolved.He’d just have to see one

ofherorgasms inpersonandworkonafewofhisown.

Jon wasn’t sure why hewastakenabackthatHeatherlivedinanactualhouse.He’dassumed she was just likehim,efficientandmodernandlivinginacondo.Instead,thetidyCraftsman

bungalow on the outskirts ofVegas had plenty ofcharacter. The walls werestucco. A porch made ofdark-stained wooden beamsclung to the front as hewalkedupthepath.

Whenherangthedoorbell,he heard no response frominside.Hecheckedhiswatch.Sixonthedot.TheAirForcehad taught him punctuality,even if it had failed to helphim ignore dickweeds whoputhisfriendsatrisk.He shoved the memory of

Donaghue and his airjockeyingaway.Tonightwasabout Heather and herbirthday.Herangthedoorbellagain.

This time came the quietclatter of high heels acrosswooden floors. The doorswungopen.“Youlookgorgeous.”“Thattookyousomewhere

around three-fourths of asecondtosay.”Hersmilewassecretiveagain—teasinghim,sure, butwith a darker edge.“I’m supposed to believeyou?”He tugged her close. The

kiss he stole was slow.

Careful.Hopefullytantalizingas hell. “It doesn’t take meany longer than that to seeyou.”Pure truth, just like he

alwaysspoke.She wore a dark green

wraparounddress thatdippedlow across her cleavage andclung to her tiny waist. Redlipstickturnedhermouthintoalushpoutoferoticism—andreminded Jon to wipe theirkiss off his lips with a linen

handkerchief. She’d swepther hair up again, baring thesmooth line of her neck.Hisskin twitched at the memoryofhishandsthere.He shoved that away too,

alongwith the beginnings ofanerection.Oh,heplannedtoget to that, but later. Hewanted to pick her apart,figureoutwhatmadehertick.He wasn’t exactly the

relationship type—lack ofshiningexamplesandallthat.

Butevenhesawtheappealofsticking together for anothertime or two.What made herable towalkaway from theirsingle night together whenhe’d relived so manymoments?He liked tucking her into

hiscar.Heatherwasawomanto be pampered,whether sheknewitornot.Shelookedupat him as she gracefullyswung her legs inside.“Wherearewegoing?”

He rounded to the driver’sside before answering. “LaRocca. I still owe youdinner.”“You were able to get

reservations that easily? Youhavetoexplainthatone.JennandIwaitedthreemonths.”Hekepthisspeeddownas

the powerful car rumbledthrough Heather’s quietneighborhood.At somepointhe intended to get them outontheopenroadandletitrip.

He wanted to know if she’dloveitasmuchashedid.“My parents were one of

Mr. La Rocca’s earliestpatrons.They stakedhis firstrestaurantinHyannis.”She twisted in the bucket

seat, watching him.“Hyannis? As in Kennedy-compoundHyannis?”“Near enough.”He smiled

ather.“Impressed?”“Surprisedismorelikeit.”

Pale blue eyes narrowed.

“Carlisle and Hyannis. Whydoesthatsoundsofamiliar?”“Because my grandfather

was a post-war financialpioneer. Pretty sure histheoriesarestill taught in theuniversities.”“Hecertainlywas inmine.

Not just for his aggressiveinvestment strategies but forshuttingdownhisfirm.”“Turnedoutmyfatherhad

absolutely zero interest inworking. At anything.” Jon

rolled stiff shoulders.“Grandfather was ratherdisheartened.Always said heshould’ve waited around forme.”“Howintheworlddidyou

endupintheAirForce?”“It’s the only way to fly

fighter jets.” He lifted herhandandkissedherknuckleswithout taking his eyes offthe road. Then he nibbledsoftly on the pad of herthumb. “And ladies love a

fighterpilot.”She shivered, but she was

too smart to be put off thescent. “No,” she said,drawingthewordout.“That’snot it. Not all of it, at least.You’d never be hurting forfemalecompanionship.”Heblewoutatightbreath.

They were halfway to therestaurant. If he worked itright, he could distract her,but he found himself talkinganyway—part of Heather’s

strange magic. “It’s the rushand the challenge. My oldersisterdiedwhen Iwas inmyfreshman year of highschool.”She made a soft sound of

sympathy,butheshookitoff.“It was sad,” he said,

keeping his tone even. Justfacts. “But it also helpedmefind flying. After…that, Ispent a lot of time with thepilots who flew my dad’sprivate jet. As soon as I

steppedinthecockpit,IknewwhereIhadtobe.”“And you had to be the

bestofthebest.”“Ofcourse,”hesaidglibly.

This wasn’t how he’d meanttostarttheirevening.Hisribsfelt compressed. “What’s thepoint of doing anything ifyou’renotthebest?”Silencefilteredthroughthe

cabinof the car, brokenonlyby the steady rumble of theengine and some idiot

honking two lanes over. Jonslidhisassan inchor two inthe seat. Uncomfortablewasn’t even the word. Hecouldn’t remember the lasttimehe’dmentionedSara,noteven in passing. His parentsdidn’t like to talk about her,and Jon’s closest friendsknewonlythebarestdetails.Heather’s hand smoothed

over his thigh. The muscleshe’d inadvertently flexedsuddenly eased under the

touch.“I know one thing you’re

thebestat,”shefinallysaid.He allowed himself to

chuckle. “I thoughtyouwereworriedaboutmyego.”“Maybe I’ve decided I

deserve another birthdaypresent.”“That’sacertainty.”“Jon?” Her voice hit that

husky timbre hewas comingto know—and to anticipate.“You should know

something.”“Oh?”She scraped her nails over

his slacks. “I didn’t wearpantiestonight.”He slanted her a long,

hungry look despite thetraffic on the Strip. Heather,bare under that clingy dress.Any arousal would paint thetops of her thighs withmoisture.Shewasplayingdirtypool.

Jon had no idea how he’d

keep his hands off herthroughdinner.

ChapterFifteen

They weren’t going tomakeittoLaRocca.Heatherhad started to think of therestaurant as her own whitewhale.Roadblocksclosedoffmain avenues as policedirected traffic onto sidestreets. The lights of twoambulancesandafiretruckin

the distance meant this wasnoordinaryeveningsnarl.“I have an idea,” she said.

“Pull off here, into theWynn.”Jon nodded and smoothly

took advantage of amomentary break in theoncoming traffic. He zippedonto Wynn Avenue. Morecars. The line for the valetwasbackeduptothestreet.“Forget it.” Heather

pointed. “Drive back to the

self-park.”His dubious expression,

with an eyebrow arched inblueblood disdain, made hersmile. Such a snob she’dfound. Not for the first timeshewonderedwhathewouldmake of her upbringing. Butthen her thoughts strayedtoward what he would thinkof her parents, should theyever meet—and that stoppedherquick.Nofuture.Noplans.

She rummaged for herBlackBerry as Jon navigatedtoward the self-park garage.After scrolling through hercontacts, she placed the call.“Hello, Peter? It’s HeatherMorris.Iwonderifyoucoulddomeahugefavor?”PeterBloomwashermain

contact at the Wynn. Theconfirmed workaholic wasprobably still at his desk inthe corporate offices on thenorth side. Sane people

stayed away from the Strip,evenifitwastheirbusiness.“Anything,Heather.Ican’t

recallyoueverasking.”“Neverhad theneed.”She

likedthatsheusedherfavorsjudiciously, hoarding themlike a squirrel with acorns.“CouldyousnagmeatableatTheCountryClub,maybethecorporate table out by thefalls?”“No one has it this

evening, that I know of. I’ll

dowhatIcan.”“And phone in a temp tag

too?”“Of course. Any chance

you can do my visit a weekearlyinrepayment?”“I’m sorry, I can’t. We

have half your prep work todoyet.”“What,youcan’tbendtime

andspace?”“One day I’ll get it right.

Thanksagain.”Heather switched off the

call as Jon pulled the DBSaround to the parkingstructure.Shedirectedhimtoan upper level reserved forprofessional visitors. Unlikethe lower ramps where carsjockeyed for any availablespace, the guest area wasnearly deserted. Heatherchatted with the securityguard, who called in toconfirmtheirtemptag.“That’s good news.” She

took Jon’s arm as they

crossedtowardthepedestrianexit.“Peterworksfastandhenever takes no for ananswer.”“Peter?”“My contact here at the

Wynn.Wedotheiraudits.”“So,Ms.Morriscanpulla

few strings of her own?Nice.”She smiled, inordinately

proudofbeingable to swingthis.JonwasrichasCroesus,butshe’dworkedtoohardnot

tobenefitfromherdedicationandskill.The resortwas abuzzwith

activity,regardlessofitbeingaWednesday night. SinCityhadnoregardfordaysof theweek. Heather pressed moredeeply against Jon’s body asthey navigated through thecorridors.Touristsqueuedforaneveningshow.If anything, his attire was

even more immaculate thanwhat he’d worn to the wine

tasting.Thiswas Jonmakingan effort. His vest was astrikingsilkbrocadeincolorsof deep blue and charcoalgray, flecked with silverthreads. The suit itselfwas aclassic wool blend inmatching charcoal. Its trim,tailored cutwas almostmod,accentuating his leanstrength.Amidnight-blue tieand a crisp white collarcircled his throat. Thetendons along his nape

looked especially powerful,revealedbyhisbuzzcut.She didn’t know how she

couldstandit.Theurgetotughim into a dark corner andhitchherlegsaroundhishipswas almost too powerful.Onlytheknowledgethattheywere in a casino, with theuniverse’s most intensecamera and security systems,kept her on good behavior.Fornow.The Country Club was

themed with Scottish décor,as if they’d traveled acrosstheAtlantic insteadofacrosstown.Joneyedtheplacewitha satisfying degree ofapproval. She had to stophoping to impress him. Itgave away the power shefoughtsohardtokeep.“Ms. Morris,” said the

maître d’ as they arrived.“Mr.Bloomtoldustoexpectyou.Rightthisway.”Minutes later they settled

at the table reserved forwining and dining theWynn’s varioussubcontractors. Situated on agolf course, the forty-footwaterfall off the eighteenthgreen created a white-noisebackdrop. Conversations feltalmost private, with thesounds of the Strip washedaway.Theidyllic,lushsettingseemed so far removed fromthe sparse desert just beyonditsobsessivelytendedlimits.

“Nice,” Jon said, his gazelost over the rolling course.“Verynice.”Heatherswallowedaheady

bubble of fulfillment. Herbirthday. Her little magictrick.“May I take your drink

order,ma’am?”“Scottish milkshake,” she

saidwithouthesitation.Jonshotheranincredulous

look then returned hisattention to the fresh-faced

malewaiter.“CuvéeSpecialeCentCinquantenaire.”The waiter nodded and

provided menus beforeturningaway.“Show off,” she said to

Jon. “You could’ve justcalleditGrandMarnierlikeanormalperson.”“It’s special Grand

Marnier.” He grinned.“Besides,I’veresolvedtouseFrench whenever possible.Onemustpracticetomaintain

fluency.”“I’m convinced you

memorizedsometouristtape.When you speak to me,you’rerecitinghowtoaskforadoctororthelocationofthenearestpayphone.”“Oùse trouve le téléphone

public? J’ai besoin d’unmédecin.”Heather’sthighstensed.He

was teasing her, talkingpayphonesanddoctors,butitdidn’t matter. The intent

behindhiseyeswasthesameas if he’d been discussingplans toduckunder the tableand eat her out. An easyprospect, considering hersecretstateofundress.“What did you wear to

workthatMondaymorning?”Hisgazeheatedherthroat.Another sudden jump in

herarousal.Shehad been able to look

inthemirror,luckily—mostlybecauseshe’dbeentheoneto

initiate so many of theirencounters. The enormity ofwhat they’d done togetheronly increased with thepassing days…until seeinghimonherfrontporch.Thenshe’djustwantedmore.“Ihaveasilkblousewitha

Mandarincollar.”His lips tugged into a

lopsidedsmile.The menus were a

welcome distraction. Sherealized she wasn’t playing

cool—merely trying tomaintain it.Her eyes lurchedalong the complicated list ofingredients in each dish, thehallmark of a high-endrestaurant that still made hersmile.“It’s never simple,” she

muttered to herself. “Imean,what’s wrong with a pulled-pork sandwich? I can’t evenhazard a guess at whatchimichurri is.” Jonbegan toexplain, but she waved him

off.“Don’tbother.”Hesethismenuaside.“So,

what do you consider aluxury?”“AnythingIdidn’thaveas

achild.”The answer was so

automatic that she suffered afast blush. He wasunderhandedandsneaky.Sheshould’veseenitcoming.“Suchas?”“Juice boxes. Pop-Tarts.

Velveeta.”

“Velveeta?” Jon shook hishead, his smile a touchconfused. “You’re going tohavetoexplain.”“To the alien from Planet

Hyannis?”The waiter returned with

their drinks. Heather askedfor a filet, rare, while Jonordered the rack of lamb.Only when the waiter haddeparted did Jon nod to hermilkshake.“What’sinit?”“Whiskey. Glenlevit

twelve-year,actually.”He borrowed her straw to

take a sip. “Damn, that’s notbad. Too bad I’m driving.One-drinklimit.”“Andflyingtomorrow?”“That too.” His fingers on

his crystal tumbler, he mether eyes. “Now back to theVelveeta.”“I see how your mind

works,” she said. “I grew upjust how you’d imaginewhere brand-name anything

wasaluxury.Mymomwouldvolunteer for the city whenthey’d get a delivery ofgovernment-issue cheese. Attheendofdistributingitforaday,she’dgettotakehomeafew of the five-poundblocks.”“Ihadnoidea.”“It freezes, you know.

Cheese.Keepsforalongtimethat way. You hardly noticethedifferenceintextureifit’sin casseroles. Velveeta was

better.” Heather sipped herdecadentmilkshake,ifonlytoconvince herself that thosedayswerebehindher.“What did your parents

do?”“Momstayedathome.Dad

retired a sergeant-major.Army.”Jon’s eyebrow lifted. “Ah.

A sergeant-major’s daughter.That explains a great deal.”Leave it to him to readbetween the lines, making

assumptions about how shespent her wild-child youth.“Then you went to college.Choseasensiblemajor.”“With a guaranteed career

afterward, yeah. Now I’mangling to be director. Dull,right?Butdomeafavor?”“Hm?”“Don’t turn that into a

point of martyrdom,” shesaid.“Ilovemyjob.”Theirfoodarrived,bearing

with it the fragrant aroma of

rich living. Heather’s steakwasadecadentcreation,full-flavored and tender. She letthe taste lure her away fromdifficultmemories,baskinginthemoment.Thedesertnightair,thesoundofthewaterfall—and Jon across from her,looking forall theworld likemodern-dayroyalty.Except for the buzzed

head.She licked salty juices off

her lower lip, enjoying how

he watched her. Always.“Why in the world did youjointhemilitary?”“Itoldyou.Theplanes.”“Butwhynot…astronaut?”Leaning back from the

table,hislambhalfdevoured,heaffectedthecasualairthatinsistedallwaswell.Hemaynot admit to lying with hismouth, but every calculatedmovement created analternate version of the realJon—whoever that was.

Heatherhadtoremindherselfthat she preferred him thisway. The hedonistic youngprince. Her heart would triponanymorehonesty.“I’ll admit to a certain

degreeofyouthfulrebellion,”hesaid.“You did it to spite your

parents?”He shrugged. “They could

bragmeupjoiningNASA.”“Not serving your

country?”

“Notsomuch.”Elbowsonthetable,hepitchedhisvoiceto a conspiratorial whisper.“Butdomeafavor?”Hearing the echo of her

words,shesmiled.“Hm?”“Don’t turn that into a

point of heroism. Somedaymaybe I’ll fly commercialliners, or even design newaircraft. For now it’s thespeed.”“How did you manage to

keep access to your bank

account,whatwithpissingoffMummyandDaddy?”“My grandfather. He flew

fightersinWWII,overSicilyand Italy.” He skewered abiteoflamb.“Backwhenrichmen’s sons still thought ittheir duty to go to war. Helosthisleg.”“I’msorry.”Jongrinned.“Don’tbe.He

parlayed his father’sindustrial fortune into scadsmore andmade themost out

of his injury. Even there attheend,hehadthesympathyoflovelyyoungwomen.”“So you take after him,

then?”“AllIknowisthatI’llstill

beirresistibleateighty.”He pushed the plate away

with a slight groan. Heatherfeltthesameway,stuffedfullofindescribablefare.Jon’s attention went

somewherefaraway,lookingout over the shadowed golf

course. “I went home onleave between tours. Hewanted to see me. There hewas, in the medical suite inhismansion,surroundedbyacadreofgorgeousnurseshe’dpersonally chosen. He toldme three things…the firstbeing that he was proud ofme.”His voice choked off.

Heather couldn’t look away,no matter how his suddenemotion messed with her

respiration. She’d felt thesame aching pang uponlearning that he’d lost hisolder sister. Puzzle pieceswere aligning to make himinto a rationalwhole, not theenigma she’d assumed. Thatmade him even morevulnerable. Human.Dangerous.“I didn’t join up to make

anyone proud,” he said afterclearing his throat. He wasJon again, wearing a cocky

grin. “Second, he told me Iwas set for life, and that I’dbecomeanirredeemablepunkbecauseofit.Hiswords.”“Nice.”“Buthislastpointwasthat

the choicewasmine. I couldmake something of myselfor…coast.” He looked outtowardthewaterfall.“Myoldman had the last laugh,though. I finishedmysecondtour and found out I’d been

transferred here to the 64th.Mom was tired of me inharm’s way. They’d made afew calls to secure thetransfer then appealed to myego.”He threw back the lastof his Grand Marnier, ratherthan sip. “So here I am. Thebest of the best. Like yousaid.”Mommy and Daddy

pulling strings. It didn’t sitwell on him, no matter his

obviouspride inhis job.Thecasual calm he’d maintainedsowell throughout dinner allbut disappeared. He fidgetedwith the tines of an unusedsaladfork.“You’ll have to show me

your fighter sometime,” shesaid.His lips pressed together.

Heather realized what she’ddone. Plans. A future. She’dinvited that possibility,whenevenhazardingaguessabout

the next evening was a badidea.“We’llsee.”His words should have

been a relief. He was lettingher mistake slide. ButHeatherdidn’tlikebeingcastadrift by his locked-downexpression.“Come on,” he said,

standingunexpectedly.“Let’sgetoutofhere.”

ChapterSixteen

Jon had not told Heatherabouthisgrandfatherinorderto garner some twistedsympathy.But that’s what it had felt

like when she suggestedseeing his jet. Her voice hadbeen soft and her eyes darkwith compassion. He’d been

onthereceivingendofplentyof that bullshit his freshmanyearwhenkidstoldhimhowsorry they were whilewhispering behind his backabout Sara’s car accident.Reaching out to his parentshad only revealed coldautomatons. At least he’dfound a measure of quiet inthe air—peace, while thespeed screamed through hismind.Forfuck’ssake,hewanted

Heather to ask to see his jetbecause it got her hot.Because shewanted to knowmoreabouthim.Notbecauseit was a bone to throw himwhenhewasbeingmaudlin.Yet even as his steps

quickened, weaving throughthelowerlevelsoftheWynn,he realized what a prizeHeather was on his arm.Smart, beautiful andincredibly astute. Any manwould be proud to keep her

attention.Ifonlyshedidn’thavethat

wayofpryinginsidehim.Theyapproachedhiscarin

thenearlyemptyranksoftheparking garage. Heathertugged on his suit coat.“Wherearewegoing?”Shit. He hadn’t planned

anything,meaning to get hertalking. He wanted any clueabout her, to make sure thiswas a birthday she wouldn’tforget. Instead she’d gotten

himtotalk.They turned to face one

another. Jon leaned heragainst the passenger-sidedoor. “It’s your night. Whydon’tyoutellme?”Her hands slid around the

back of his jacket, flirtingwith the bottom hem of hisvest. She looked perfectly athomeloungingagainstsuchawild beast of a car—like shecouldtameit.“Don’t tellmewicked Jon

Carlisle is out of ideas.” Shestretched up on her toes towhisper in his ear. The softwash of her breath tingledoverhisneck.“Ithinkyou’veforgottenoneimportantfact.”“What’sthat?”“I’m still not wearing

panties.”His body dropped into

overdrive,likewhenhisF-16screamed off the runway.“Trust me, Heather love.There hasn’t been an instant

I’veforgotten.Yourbeautifulpussy bare under your dress—and how easily I couldslide my hand up your leg.Touchyou.”She flicked her tongue

across his earlobe. “But youhaven’t done it. I thoughteven you didn’t have thatmuchrestraint.”He had restraint. Buckets

of it. Enough to turn herinsideoutwithwant, even inthe yellow-lit cave of the

parkinggarage.Stroking gently, he traced

up her sides until he grazedthe full swell of her breasts.Justaglancingtouch,enoughto make her think ofpotential.“Youliketoplaywithfire,

don’tyou,Ms.Morris?”“I used to.And then I got

burned.”Tilting his head, he

touchedhismouthtothebendwhereherchinmetherthroat

—the exact place he’dclamped while fucking her.“But here you are. Again.You couldn’t have been toosinged.”Her eyeswent dark as her

irises widened. “I thought Igotoverit.”“Overwhat?”“The recklessness.” She

laced her fingers behind hisneck and pressed her chestagainsthis.“Butyou’reright.HereIam.”

Too many layers of clothbetween them. He loveddressing finely. There was acertain skill in putting forththe impression he wantedothers to see. He wouldquickly come to regret hishubris if it meant restrictingcontact between him andHeather.“We’renotbeingthatbad,”

he said, keeping his voicelow. “This is barely a hug.This is what kids do after

datesatthemovies.”“I don’t feel like a kid.”

She’d hit that husky toneagain—a promise of delightstocome.Jon dipped low to stroke

her hips in a languid caress.“No.No,youdon’t.”“Anyway, I don’t think

you’d have liked me when Iwasyoung.Nochallenge.”“You certainly are a

challenge, Ms. Morris.” Hewovehisfingersintoherhair

and tilted her head back.“LuckilyI’mthekindofmanwhorisestotheoccasion.”He kissed her, intending it

to stay slow. Tempting. Butfuck if he wasn’t quicklylosing the reins. Again. Shewrappedherarmsaroundhisshoulders and pressed up onher toes. Their mouths slidtogetherhard.Fast.He drew her tongue into

hismouth and sucked. Sharpfingernails dug into the back

ofhisneck.And then he lost the next

sortie too. With his handsunder her skirt, he found thelong expanse of her thigh—and the moisture thatdampened the crease of hersweet pussy. He cupped hersmooth mound, gratifiedwhenherarmstightened.She pressed up into his

touch, until he slid a singlefingerbetweenherlips.Slickwetness was his reward. Her

clit was already swollen andhot.The moan started in her

chest and released into hismouth, barely more than abreath.“You’re already wet for

me, Ms. Morris,” he saidsilkily.Thetenderlineofherthroatwaspracticallybeggingforhis teeth.Sohe indulged,locking tight over the cordthat stood out in stark relief.Thenhesoothedtheareawith

long, deliberate licks. “Tellme what you want and it’syours.”Heather bent her head to

theside,allowinghimall thespaceheneededtonibblehersugar-sweet skin. “I wantyour cock,” she whispered.“Fucking me so deep that Ifeel it all the way throughme.”He bit her neck—hard

enough to leave a red mark.When had he come to enjoy

seeinghisbrandonherskin?“Here, Ms. Morris?” He

keptcirclingherclit.“You’reevenbraverthanIthought.”She drew back to look in

his eyes. The parking garagewas almost empty of cars,and he’d chosen a space atthe far end of the row. Butthat didn’t completelyameliorate the possibility ofdiscovery.“Maybe I just want this

more.” Her hands worked at

his belt then slid down hiszipper. “Do you have anyidea how reckless you makemefeel?”Itcouldn’tbehalfasinsane

as she made him. He kissedher hard, taking that anxietyfromher,lettingitridehimtoafineedgeofcontrol.He dug a condom out of

his inside coat pocket. Theirhands fumbled together astheybothtriedtorollitdownhis cock. The touch of her

softfingersonhisshaftmadehis balls draw up withanticipation.Her skirt rucked between

themwithacouplefastgrabs.Jonbenthiskneesafraction,thankful once again for theiralmostmatchingheight.Thentherewasnothingbut

thehotwelcomeofherpussy.Clench and suck. The wayher hands delved beneath hissuit coat to wrap around hisback.

He thrust slowly, quietly,not wanting to make aspectacle of them both.God,she went to his head. Gotunder his skin. He pushedharder.Hishipsknockedintohers until her head droppedback on a groan. Her darkhair brushed against the roofofhisconvertible.He slid his hands around

her hips to cushion her fromthe metal. They were wildtogether.Explosive.Straining

liketheywantedtomeldintoafieryball.AstreamofFrenchpoured

out of his mouth against thecurve of her neck. Sheshuddered, pinned betweenhis deep thrusts and theunrelentingcardoor.“More,”shegasped.He’dgladlygivehermore.

Everything.The gathering haze of his

climax almost concealed theclatter and hum of

approaching voices. Almost.His breath choked in hislungs as he tried to get hisbearings.“Shh,”hewhisperedinher

ear.“Someone’scoming.”Heather froze. Her eyes

went wide. But then thatsultry,secretsmilecurvedherredmouth.Shelickedherlipsand spread her fingers wideunder the bottom hem of hisvest.Swiftly,hetuggedherskirt

down around her ass,covering her. He moved hishands to thesleek lineofherback, just aman andwomanembracing. He didn’twithdraw. His open coatconcealed how they weresealedtogether.Hebentlowtoherear.“Do

you want to be caught, Ms.Morris?Becauseyourcuntisclenching down on me sotightlythatIthinkyoudo.”“Notparticularly.”

“But the idea? That’senough.” He wound throughthe silken mass of her hairand cupped the back of herhead. “You’re so hot, youcouldcomelikethis,couldn’tyou?”Her breath was shaky.

“And you? You’re notimmune.”The voices drew nearer,

but the concrete wallsmeanthe couldn’t tell theirdirection. “Not at all. But be

quiet.Don’tcome.”Her hips jerked against

him.Hekeptpushingintiny,miniscule twitches, his cockmovinggentlyinsideher.Shebitherlowerlip.“Don’tcome,Ms.Morris,”

he purred. “Don’t moan.They’ll catch us. See you sohot.Sohornyyou’regoingtoexplodeall overmydick.Sowanton.Likeaslutsohungryfor it she can’t even wait togetsomewhereprivate.”

Herhandsgrippedhisbackeven as her sheath clenchedhiscock.Then she drew her head

back to study him. “Who,exactly, has more to lose inthis scenario, CaptainCarlisle? Hmm?” Slippingherhandsintothebackofhispants, she gripped his ass.Squeezed.“Whatdotheycallit?Behaviorunbecoming?”Goddamn it. He mashed

his face against her shoulder

and beat back the orgasmthreateningtotakehimdown.Her mouth slid over his

throat, along the line of hiscollar. She licked. Long andslow, likely leaving a brighttrailofredlipstick.Shewaswinning.Again.Deepbreathsdidn’tgethis

head together. But it wasenough.Barely.Somehow he managed to

pull out of her. She made asoftsoundofprotest,andher

hands clenched his asscheeks. He tucked himselfback into his slacks andzippedthemup—condomandall,forChrist’ssake.Anotherfewswiftmotionstuggedherskirt down to cover her wetpussy.He spun out one of his

slow, special smiles. “You’reright, Ms. Morris. By allmeans, let’s not get introuble.”Hehandedherintothecar,

ignoring theconfusion inhereyes, which was rapidlyturning to annoyance.Maybeeven anger. As Jon shut thecar door, her lush, eroticmouth plumped into a pouthe’d never seen but dearlyrelished.Only when he stalked

around the back of the car,crossing to his door, did hescrubahandoverhisface.Hewas shaking. Wanting her.Needing to be back inside

her.“You have got to be

kidding,” she said as heclimbedintothedriver’sseat.Jon only popped the

convertible top and fired uptheignition.Drivingtookextraeffortas

he peeled out of the parkinggarage.Thepurringrumbleofthe engine shook into hisbones. He pushed the speedlimit,edgingfasterandfaster.HeaimedtheAstonMartin

out of Las Vegas, deep intothedesert.Andflooredit.

ChapterSeventeen

Heather sank into theleather bucket seat as thedesert night whipped againsther face. She glared absentlyat the dashboard. The lightsof the city faded into a glowin her door mirror, withnothing but open roadstretchingaheadofthem.

She’d wondered what Jonand the sleek black AstonMartincoulddoifunleashed.She was in no mood toappreciate either. Her bodystill hummed and spun itselfinside out while her mindgrappledwiththeimpossible.Jon had stopped. Stopped

cold.The embarrassment she

expected to feeldidn’t come.Gettingcaughtinthatparkinggarage would’ve been a

professional disaster for bothofthem.Wherewashersenseof self-preservation? Hersenseofshame?Allgone.Only a petulant sort of

anger remained. She wasactually pissed at herspoilsportdate.Her birthday. Her body.

Herrules.The alternative, that he’d

already claimed so much ofher, was too frightening to

consider. Pushing away fearwasconsiderablyeasierwhenall she risked was thephysical. Jon had provedremarkably considerate onthatscore.Shewanted her lover.Not

this odd pinched feeling inherchest.A semi’s distant lights

drew nearer as the amazingDBS ran it down. Predatorand prey. Jon popped it intofifth, his grip tense on the

gearshift. The tendonsrunning up the back of hishand and wrist snapped tautwith themotion.Theeaseheusually displayed whendrivingwasgone.Closer now, and closer

still,hehadn’t changed lanesto overtake the lumberingtruck. Heather gripped thearmrestonthepassengersidedoor. Night air scored hercheeks as theAston punchedup past ninety.Her heartbeat

tripled. At the last possiblemoment, Jon smoothly doveinto the outside lane. Theydarted past the semi as thedriverblastedhishorn.“Are you insane?” she

yelledoverthewhipofwind.Jon merely glanced her

way, that depraved smiletwisting his lips. Maybe hewasonlyenjoyingthethrillofthe ride. Maybe he wasinviting her to return to theirformer play. All Heather

knew was that the sight ofhim handling that powerfulmachine with such ease wasmore than she could stand.Her body was already sokeyedup,sooverheated, thatitclamoredformore.Moreofhim.With nothing stretched

ahead but flat blacktop, heshiftedup to sixth.Hundredsofhorsepowergrowledunderthe hood. The vibration sankinto her skin, like the steady

bite of a hot, hot shower.Sensation built, gathering,almost numbing, butconstantly raising the stakes.Release,whenitcame,wouldbeoverwhelming.Heather reachedacross the

chasm that had openedbetweenthem.Shewantedtotouch him. Needed to. Shestarted with his hand on thegearshift,unwillingtodistracthim too much. Their speedwas up to one hundred now.

Threading her fingers overhis, she felt the hummingvibration where man metmachine. He controlled thatpower. The thrill shot a boltofheatbetweenherthighs.Trailingherfingershigher,

she worked up to hisshoulder,hisnape, the topofhis head. Jon made arumbling noise in his throat,one she could only feel.Sound had been claimed bytherushingflowofair,which

cooledbutdidn’t remedyherflushedskin.Eyes still on the road, he

darted his tongue to lick theinsideofherforearm.Heatherslid her hand to press herindex finger along the seamof his lips. He opened,sucking her then biting her.Pain spiked to a sharp burn.She gasped, arched a little.Just when the discomfortbecame toomuch, he circledhistongueandsoothedwhere

histeethhadtrappedherfirstknuckle.Givingherringfingerover

to his care, Heather tuggedthe hem of her skirt. Shefound her clit, as cool airrushed over her wet arousal.Jon gunned the engine andsucked deeply. More teeth,more tongue, while the carpurred down the deserthighway.Speedandsexmadeher work faster, building asteady,quickorgasm.

She retrieved her handfrom his mouth and dippedinsideherlow-slungneckline.Thelaceofherbragavewayon a downward tug. Hertwisting pressure on thenipple ring was a steadycounterpointtothebeatofherfingers. She dipped inside,scooping more of that slickwetness, soothing it over herengorged nerves. Breathlabored, throat burning, shegasped.

“Letmehearyou,”hesaid,his voice carrying past thewhip and rush. “No breathysighsthistime.”The wind made it easy.

The speedmade it easy. Sheleaned back into the leather,knees wide, cunt bared, andfound the rhythm thatreminded her of theirslappingbodies.Fast.Steady.Utterly focused. The quietsounds inside of her turnedviolent.Shemoaned,herhips

grindingup,eagernowforanaching hollow to be filled.Thatmoanbecamelouder—ahard scream bubbling,waitingtobefreed.She thrashed her head to

the side, pinning her gaze toJon’s hard profile. His backteeth were pressed tight. Amuscle bunched like a fist atthecurveofhisjaw.“I’mcoming.Oh,God, do

you know what you do tome?Jon,I’mcoming.”

Fire jumped across hernerves. With a fierce shriekshe snapped taut, chin lifted,baredbreaststhrustout.Jondownshifted,heavyon

thebrakes.TheAstonangledto the shoulder until hebrought it to a stop. Beforethe last of Heather’s orgasmhad faded, he threw it intopark.Out of the car.Aroundtheback.He yanked the passenger-

side door open, his hand

clamped around her upperarm. All she could managewas tounbuckle the seatbeltbefore he hauled her to herfeet. He was all power, allviolence, as if the ferocityofthe sports car still poundedbeneathhisflesh.Jon shoved her around the

door and pressed her againstthe hood. Hot metal searedher back in a delicious burn.She hissed. Her musclesseizedagainstthatshock.

Dimly, beyond sensationand a dark buzzing in herears, Heather heard hiszipper.“Condom,”shemanagedto

gasp.“It’s still there, Heather

love. I’m so fucking hard.”Hismouthwas at her throat.Teeth. A sucking, wrenchingkiss.Shehitchedaheeluphisback. Opened for him. “Ah,Jesus.”He took her. Hard. That

fabulouscockdroveherbackagainst the hood. Jonflattened his palms over herass cheeks, forcing themapart. Sensation sizzledagainst that private skin. Butshecouldnomoreescapehimthanshewantedhimtostop.Her body stayed exactly

where he wanted, pinnedbeneath his rocking thrusts.The rushing wind haddisappeared but none of thepowerorspeed.Hisrhythmic

grunts rumbled against herbreastbone.Hefeastedonherbreasts. The harder, sharpersound of their colliding hipsfueled her arousal likegasolineonopenflames.Her other foot left the

ground. She hooked herankles behind his back. Jontook the opportunity to archher even further, with onehand between her breastsuntil she lay fully across thehood. She fought that

pressure, her hips working,buthepressedharder.“You’renotinchargehere,

Ms. Morris.” Thrustspunctuated his raspedwords.“Youcanteasemeandtemptme, but I’m not letting youwineveryround.”A thrilling panic nipped at

her mind. Jon had her. Hewasn’t stopping. Only thesafe word would challengehis control now, but shedidn’t want to use it—didn’t

wantthetormenttoend.It was too much. She

couldn’t. The pounding. Hewasdemandingtoomuch.“Can’t.Jon,Ican’t.”His mouth found her

nipple, but he didn’t suck ortease—only whispered wetwords against her skin. “Nofear. Not now. Sink into it.Takeit.Takeme.”She eased along his voice

asheflowedbetweenEnglishand French. Her body began

to shake. She cried out.Again. Her hands found theback of his head then underhiscollaranddownhisback.Rough bunches of muscletensed and flexed. His skingave way beneath her nails.Sweatslickedherfingertips.“I’m here, Heather love. I

haveyou.”Herclimaxrippedascream

from her throat. She thrusther hips, overcome by long,wrenching gasps. Blood

rushedinherears.Jon’sbodypistoned, levering her pelvishigher as he continued topound.“Heather,” he ground out.

“I’m…holyfuck.”He tensed, his eyes rolling

back,hispartedlipsfrozeninexquisite bliss. A fewshuddering pulses later hebowedoverherstomach.Hischest heaved. Heather layagainst thehoodas itcooled,her eyes on the stars, her

hands caressing the back ofhishead.“Happy birthday to me,”

she quietly cooed. A bubbleoflaughterwiggledupoutofher gut. It turned into a full-blownlaugh.Grinning, Jon slid his

hands to her waist, adding atickle. She jerked away, hersmile matching his. Hepushed up. Strong armsbracketed her on either side.Rather than imagine being

trapped, Heather feltprotected. She rememberedhisgaspingwords, thewordsthathadhelpedherletgo.I’mhere,Heatherlove.They froze. Face-to-face.

Theirbodiesstilljoined.Tentatively, as if for the

first time, she touched hischeek. He pressed a kissagainst the cup of her palmthennuzzled.Shehookedherelbow behind his neck anddrew him down for a long,

slow,lingeringkiss.Thiswascotton-candy sweetness.Decadent care. Tendernessthatmeltedherspine.Feeling languid and

boneless, she accepted Jon’shelpinpeelingawayfromthehood. His tie was loose andaskew,with three buttons onhis dress shirt popped. Helookedasblastedasshefelt.He brought his hand away

fromthemetalandflexedhisfingers. “Christ, Heather,

how’syourback?”“I’llfindouttomorrow.”Heonlyshookhishead,his

smile bewildered. She likedseeinghimthatway—slightlyout of step with the man hepretended to be. She wasgetting used to feeling thesamewayaboutherself.A shiver raced across her

shoulders.Jonstrippedoffhissuitcoat.Hedrapeditaroundher before she could protest.Hisheatheldherasmuchas

the wool. Fingers interlaced,he led her to the edge of theasphalt.Theysatsidebyside,withthedesertilluminatedbyonly a slice ofmoon and thecablightofhisAston.“Best birthday,” she

whispered.“Hm?”“My best birthday. This

one.”He looked at her with

something close to wariness,maybe suspicion. She knew

because that was how shealways looked at him.Nothinghadpreparedher forthatrealization.“Thankyou,”shewenton.

“I… Your competitiontonightwasrentingamovie.”“MaybeIdidn’tneedtotry

sohard.”She smiled. The moment

between them was so calmandclosethatsheduckedintohisarms,holdingontight.Hepettedahandbeneaththecoat

she wore, just where thetattoo colored her skin.Whywas it so easy to becompletelyfearlesswithhim,butdifficulttosimply…be?“But after all, I deserve a

bitofpampering.”“That you do,” he said

quietly.Something warm and soft

openedinherchest.Thiswasdangerous, but sheneeded todo it.Needed to.The rewardcouldbeworth the risk, as it

hadbeenallalong.“Worst birthday was my

seventeenth.”Jon stopped petting. He

held his breath, as did thedesert.“Itwastheweekendofmy

dad’s retirement. I was inselfish-bitchmode,thinkingIowned the day. God, Jon, Iwassuchamess.”“A mess? I can’t imagine

it.”“Recall what you know

about when I lost myvirginity. Now picture thatdesperate girl three yearslater.” She swallowed, bitingbackahotrushoftears.“Dadwas so proud that day.Momonly wanted me to behave.Just for the afternoon, andthenI’dbefree topartywithmyfriendsthatevening.”“I don’t think you made

it.” There was no teasing inhis words, only a quietunderstanding thatscoredher

heart.“Iwasdrunkbyfour.Iwas

in the backseat of a FordFocusbythetimenightfell.”She shuddered. “And thething is? It wasn’t even anygood. Just…a thing to do.Not…”Jonturnedherbodytoward

his,herfaceinhishands.Shebreathed his breath beforethey actually kissed. Lipssoftly met lips. His thumbsstroked the apples of her

cheeks.“Notwhat?”Heather closed her eyes.

“Not like this.Jon,nomatterwhatelsehappens…”“You’ll always have the

happy memory of wakingevery gopher for a hundredmiles.”She couldn’t help but

laugh.Everyemotionwastooraw, too close to the surface.So she indulged in the easyones—the feel of his body,thesurprisingopennessofhis

humor. Tension eased awayon a shaky exhalation. “Youcan take me home now,Captain.”Hearchedonebrow.“Ifly

atoheighthundred.”God, that was sexy.

Unbelievablyso.“Thenyou’llhave todrive

fast.”

ChapterEighteen

Jon had never particularlyfeared Darth Vader when hewas a kid but dread curledthroughhisstomachwhentheImperialDeathMarchdronedfrom his phone. Served himright for assigning it as hisparents’ringtone.He sat down on his couch

beforeansweringandlistenedto the cell ring. Letting hisparents twist was a bit of ahobby,sohemightaswelldoitright.Eventuallyhe thumbed the

phone.“Carlisle.”“I suppose we can thank

heavens you haven’tabandoned thefamilyname.”His mother’s voice wascultured. Perfectly accentedandsmooth.His shoulders tightened.

He put his heels up on thelow console table. A faintmemory of a voice calling,“No shoes on the wood,”echoed through his head, butit wasn’t his mother’s voice.ThathadbeenConstance,thehousekeeper.AsfarasJon’smotherwas

concerned,hecouldhavetap-danced on the tables as longas he put up the appropriatefrontinpublic.“Sogoodtohearfromyou

too, Mother,” he drawled.“Did you and Father go toEuropethisyear?”He’d rather thought they

mighthavegonetotheSouthofFranceforthesummer.Hehadn’t heard from them forsevenblissfulweeks.“Not for long. Only three

weeks in Nice. Such awhirlwindtrip,Ibarelyhadachance to unwind. Not tomention the crown princessstopped by for four nights,

andyouknowhowmuchofabothersheis.”Jon’s mother nattered on

while he all but rolled hiseyes. He would’ve, had shebeen able to see him, just toemphasizehisdisdain.Forallher complaints, his motherabsolutely lived to hostroyalty.Itwasthecenterandheartofherlife.He fished his computer

tabletoutfromunderacouchcushion. Turning the volume

down low, he played a gamewhile letting hismother talk.Andtalk.Andtalk.Eventually she ran out of

steam. “Besides, darling. Icalledforyou.”He glanced at the time.

Thirty-seven minutes. “Whataboutme?”“I want to make sure

you’regoingtonight.”Yes, that was exactly the

way it worked. His motherwent on at length about her

life then concerned herselfwith Jon to issue autocraticorders. Their relationshipcouldn’t continue like this—not ifhewanted to stay sane—yet he had no idea how tofix them. Twelve years onfrom Sara’s crash and…nothing.“You know I hate those

things.”“Thisisthebiggestcharity

eventinLasVegasallyear.”Heputthecomputerdown.

Either that or end up tossingthe thing when theirconversation went down theroad he expected. “It’s acharity event to fund golfcourses.”“Those courses sponsor

lots of underprivilegedyouths! Every bit helps, Jon.You know I’ve madephilanthropy my guidingprinciple.”Since Jon’s sister died.

Yeah. He knew. Except she

and his father had a weirdtwist on real philanthropy.“The economy sucks rightnow, Mother. Golf coursesarethebestwecando?”“Don’t use such language

infrontofme.”“I’m doing fine, by the

way. Contributing to the AirForce teaching policy letters.Topofmysquadron.”Afaintsniffcameoverthe

line.Hepicturedhismother’snose wrinkling. Even on a

Saturday morning, she’d beperfectly attired in a tailoredskirt and blouse, with herdark brown hair carefullystyled. She didn’t use dyethough, claiming the silverthat shot tastefully from hertemplesgaveher“gravitas”.Heletthesilencedragout.

No saving her. She sniffedagain.“YouknowIdon’tliketothinkofyouindanger.”If that were the problem,

Jon would eat his flight suit

with a knife and fork. “I’mnot dropping Grandfather’shard-earned cash on golfcourses.He’dturnoverinhisgrave.” At least Grandfatherwould’veunderstood, even ifnooneelseinhisfamilydid.“I already paid for your

tickets, including one for aguest.”He fisted his free hand.

Almost forty-five minutes ofbeing able to hold on andrelax,buthe’dhadit.They’d

made intrusions on his lovelife over the years.Background checks andgossip and instructions tocomevisit,allofwhichweresuspiciously timed. The ideathat they’d know anythingaboutHeatherwasenough tomakehisskincrawl.But at the same time,he’d

loveit.Theywouldn’tbeableto say a single bad wordabouther.Eleganceandclass.Only he knew about the

gorgeous tattoo under herclothing. Or the nipple ring.Orthatshecouldfuckwildlyon the hood of his car andcomesoloudhehearditoverthescreamingwind.“Mother, I had other

plans.” Preferably makingHeathergasphisname.“You’llgo,Jon.”Hervoice

had turned ice cold. She’dperfected that tone over theyears. It had been incrediblyeffective in shutting down a

fourteen-year-oldwhomissedhis sister. “You’ll go andyou’ll be on your bestbehavior.”“Orwhat?”Herolledtohis

feet.Toomuchanxietyridinghis bones to remain seated.“Notlikeyoucancutmeoff.You lost that weapon yearsago.”The silence dragged out

withweight.Hecouldpictureher pinched mouth, the wayhereyeswould’vegonefrom

pale brown to gold. “Fine. Ihope you remember you’vedrivenmetothis.”“Towhat?”“Our new housekeeper

found boxes of Sara’s booksinstorageinthewestattic.Ifyou go, I’ll send them toyou.”Something hard and cold

clenchedinhischest.“Isthiswhatwe’vecometo?Forgolfcourses?”“This is what you’ve

forcedus to, Jonathan.Don’tabdicateyourresponsibility.”He’d go. Of course he’d

go.Nowaycouldhepassuphis sister’s belongings. Yetagain,hismotherhadtwistedhis arm. He’d do what shewanted because he missedSara. Contemplating thewoman she would’vebecome, his lone port in thestorm when they werechildren,wasagonizing.Onlythe loss of his grandfather

matchedthatoldpain.Maybe he could still

redeem the evening. Aftersigning off with his motheramid terse words, he pacedthroughhislivingroom.He’dcall Heather. See if shewanted to go with him.They’d returned to ThePalazzo twice since herbirthday, and he’d swung byher house for an incrediblehot quickie afterwork, but itwouldbefuntoshowheroff

inpublicagain.They’d make it more…

exciting. One way or theother.

Jon hated country clubs.Notforanyparticularoffensebeyond remindinghimofhisyouth. They were decoratedwith the same wood-paneledwallsandsimilarschemes,asif museum-quality relics ofthepost-WWIIera.Moneyed.

Snooty.Cold. Antiquated.

Irrelevant.AtleastwithHeatherathis

side, he could keep hismindon more palatable activities.For his mother to use Sara’sbooks as blackmail stillpounded renewed spikes ofdisappointmentintohisheart.Onewouldthinkhewould’velearned years ago thatemotionally unavailabledidn’tchange.

Itstillhurt.The luscious dip of

Heather’s cleavage was amuch preferred line ofthought. She wore a darkpurple dress with a heart-shaped neckline, over whichhe wanted to trail hisfingertips. Creamy pale skinswelledandenticed.She watched him from

over a martini. “Your gazedropsratheroften,flyboy.”He flashed a smile. She

didn’tdeservehisfoulmood,butitwasn’tgoinganywhere.Best to hide it. “Do youblameme?”“Consideringthisdress,I’d

bedisappointedifitdidn’t.”“It’snotthedresssomuch

as the lovely way you fill itout.”She took a slow sipof the

martini. Before she couldreply, a portly manapproachedwith a blonde onhisarm.

“Jon,”hesaidinafriendlytone. “We weren’t certainyou’dbeabletocome.”Joncouldn’tplacetheman

until he recognized him asAlexanderMaxwell,ownerofasmallcasino.Off-Strip.Notone of the quietly luxuriousones. Second-tier society.ThatJonwassoprogrammedto callously assess the manwithin seconds added extradisdain toward how he wasraised.

“It’s very difficult to saynotomymother.”“You’re such a good son.

My daughters are so busythey can hardly be botheredtoshowup.”“Well.How lucky you are

that their friends are moreaccommodating.” He eyedthe arm candy in the redminiskirt.Two circles of bright red

popped up on Maxwell’sflorid cheeks. He still didn’t

introduce the young woman.She hardly seemed to notice,flitting her gaze around thehuge ballroom.She appearedawestruckandwaytoonaïve.Heather’s eyes flicked

between Jon and Maxwell.“Jon, perhaps you couldintroduceme?”“Terribly sorry. Rudeness

only affects certain people.”He rested his hand along thesultry curve of her lowerback. Under his fingertips

was her tattoo. A wickedsecret to keep him groundedand to put a lid on hisgoddamn funk. “HeatherMorris,allowmetointroduceyou to Alex Maxwell. Alex,HeatherisininternalauditsatHanover Financial Logistics.You ought to switch yourbusiness to her firm. Ifeveryoneelse there ishalfassmartassheis,you’llbewellserved.”Another woman might

have blushed or demurred.Heatheronlyliftedherbrowsbefore holding her hand out.She looked at the primpedblondeandextendedthesamegreeting. “It’s lovely tomeetyou too. I’m sorry, I didn’tcatchyourname?”“Courtney.” She fluttered

fakeeyelashes.“You seem like a sweet

girl,Courtney,”Jonsaid.Hisearnestness surprised him.Maybe there was some good

tobedonethatnight.“Ifyouwould, let me give you aword of advice: run. Beforeit’s too late. Maxwell won’ttreat you well for long. SinCity tempts some men intothinking pretty girls areinterchangeable.”The girl paled. Damn, she

was young. A sheep amongwolves. Her hold on herdate’s arm, however, didn’tloosen. Maxwell puffed uphis chest. His mouth slipped

open, but he didn’t say athing.Jon would’ve liked for

Maxwell to gainsay him, tocontradict him and stand upfor himself. Hell, if he had,Jonwould’vewrittenacheckfrom his own accounts fordouble what his parentscontributed. But Maxwellsidestepped Jon’s comments,offering instead somethingabout the “noble endeavors”the event was intended to

promote.Allbecause inner-citykids

needed golf. Sure.More likethey needed safe homes andbettereducation,butthesamepeople who wouldcongratulate themselves on aproductive night wouldprobably lobby to reduceteachers’unionrights.Ridiculousjackasses.Of which he was part and

parcel.He sipped his scotch.

Heathermadesmalltalkwithboth Maxwell and Courtneyuntil they drifted off to findmore friendly socialopportunities.HeatherlookedatJonfora

longmoment. The weight ofherbluestareburnedthroughhis skin. This thing they hadwas…interesting. Dirty witha shimmer of somethingmore.She wrapped her arm

through his and led him to a

relatively dark corner. Apotted palm tree twinkledwithtinylights.Classy.“You’re in quite the snit

thisevening.Wasitthatmaninparticular?”“No.Could’vebeenanyof

them.”“Goodtoknow.I’dhateto

thinkIwasmakingsmalltalkwithanarmsdealeroraloanshark.”“Can’t vouchsafe that.

Skeletonsinclosetsandall.”

“Technicallytrue.”Heathersmoothedthehairthatdrapedacross her shoulder.“Although I’m guessing thisattitude is one hundredpercent you. So give it up,flyboy.Whybringmehere?Iwould’ve declined had Iknown my job was to runinterference on your pissantmood.”“Doesitreallymatter?”Shetiltedherhead,peering

into him. “Why wouldn’t it?

Frankly,Jon, I’msurprised. Isaw you spin Mr. La Roccaso fast that he wound upkissingyourassandthankingyou for the privilege.” Shesippedhermartiniandcaughta dribble with her tongue.“Tonight you’d rather burnthewholeplacedown.”“Wouldlookpretty.”“Nah.Notevenfour-alarm

fires can compete with theVegasskyline.”On a tight grin, he lifted

the scotch to his mouth andlet the cool liquid coat hislips.Buthedidn’tdrink.Theshow. The picture. Thepretenseneededtobeenoughbecause sometimes he feltlikehewasbarelyholdingon.The man he wanted to beseemedalong,longwayoff.No more so than when

Heather called him on hisbullshit.Maxwell hadn’t said a

word to contradict him, and

hisownmother ignoredeventhe worst of Jon’s sarcasm.Heather never did. If shecould look at himon a nightlikethisandseehowfarhe’dsunk,shemighthavemoretooffer.For a moment, he was

ballsy.Trulyballsy—not thatfakecraphethrewaroundthesquadroom.“Wouldyouliketocometomyplaceonceweleave?”She flinched. Flat-out

flinched. That unconscious,chilly response turned hisblood to sludge. He’d askedout of some ridiculous hopethat being blunt andperceptive made Heatherdifferent. Special. But MissDares-a-Lot was still thesame locked-down womanwho’d walked out of theirhotelroom.Her flinch reinforcedwhat

he’d already known—stupidimpulse aside. They would

only go so far. Just sex. Nomore.Hadn’t he gotten off the

phone with his mother onlyhours earlier?That should’vebeenreminderenough.Idiot.Heather took a sip of her

martini, this time in whatlooked likeself-defense.Paleeyesflashedupathim,allbutbegginghimtoseeitherway.“I was thinkingwe could goto my house. It’s just…

neater.Closer,even.Keepsitontheright…level.”He made a small noise of

agreement. “Yeah. Fine.”Andhemeantit,whichcameasawelcomerelief.Heknewthe game—had practicallyinvented the rules. Better tosave ballsy for air combatmaneuvers. “But if we’reagreed on keeping it neat,Heatherlove,Idon’toweyouwordoneaboutmymood.”

ChapterNineteen

Heather kept herexpressionplacidandfriendlythroughout the hour thatfollowed. She knew howthesegameswereplayed.Or,at least she’d learned themwellenoughtofakeit.Jon, however, was a

master.

He was in a black, nastytemper that wouldn’t let up,yet his façade never slippedagain. He was glib when hewanted to be, smooth whenhe had to be. Names ofchildren and cousins trippedoffhistongueasifhestoredalistofrich-folkcontactsinhishard drive of a mind. Hissmilewasbulletproof.Heather alone seemedable

to recognize his true mood.She saw deeper. Closer. So

did he when he turned thosefiercebrowneyesonher.Hadthey been less wary people,they might have that incommon. Instead, the tensionbetweenthemgrew.Maybe all of their dares

and unexpected intimacieshad lured her into expectingmore. She half-hoped hewouldn’t pretend in front ofher, but that would meanrisking herself in ways thathad nothing to do with sex.

He’d opened the door. She’dclosed it. Moping about itnowwasworse than useless.Itwashypocritical.“Another martini?” he

asked.“Not until you finish that

scotch.”“Idrove.”“Alwaysyourexcuse.”He snickered and leaned

his elbows back, turningaway from the bar. Even inthat crowded ballroom, he

owned whatever space hewanted to claim. His innatearrogance was unfathomable.Yet Heather remainedsuspicious. He was stillputtingonashow.“What do you drive,

Heather love? Maybe we’lltakeyoursnexttimeandIcangetblitzed.”“Asix-year-oldCamry.IfI

thought you’d actually getdrunk, I’d be the designateddriverinaheartbeat.”

“Oh?”She faced the bar. Their

shoulderstouched.Herswerebare. His were concealed, asalways, in one of the mostimmaculatewoolsuitsknowntoman. “It’s for show.” Sheturned towhisper against histightjaw.“Drinkliketherestof them but keep your headonstraight.Doyouever losecontrol?”Jon conjured one of his

patented dirty smiles—first

toward the hollow of hercleavage, then back to herface. “We both know theanswer to that. But aroundthesesnots?Hell,no.”Shepushedcloser.Asifby

reflex, he angled his hand tocaress her far shoulder.Theywere body to body now,facing the opposite direction.Perhapsthatwouldalwaysbeagiven.“But…you’re one of

them.”Shetookinthelength

ofhisexquisitesuit,fromthetoes of his high-gloss dressshoes to his perfectlycentered tie. “Is this self-loathing? Or some sort ofhigh-endwhiteguilt?”“Watch it, Heather love.

Youdon’twant thisaimedatyou.”He was cranky, which

made Heather bold. Duringtheirfewhourstogether,he’dneverbehavedthisway.Cooland calculated was different

than simmering anger. Darkwaves pulsed off him. Themusclespressedagainsthers,and those long, elegantfingers—as stiff as boards.He was revealing more nowthan he ever had. No matterher hypocrisy, shewanted toknowmoreabouttherealJonCarlisle.Thatmeantpushing.Itwas a risk.Ahuge risk.

Because now she knew hownastyhecouldplay.

Whatthehell.Risingtohissilent dares was more funthan wasting her timecontemplating anythingdeeper.“You bought the tickets. I

know how much they cost.Why come here and thencondescendthewholedeal?”The muscle at his jaw

bulged. She kissed it again,this time touching the tip ofher tongue against hissmooth,hotskin.

“My parents paid for thetickets. I’m the Carlislefamilyrepresentative.”Wow.Lightbulb.But to let him know how

clearly those few wordsexplained his disgust wouldshuthimdown.“I suppose you support

worthiercausesthanwateringgrassinNevada.”The hand on her shoulder

tightened almost painfully.He dragged her closer. She

stoodflushagainsthim,face-to-face. The darkness in hiseyes should’ve sent herpacking. But heat and needand some sick curiositycoiled in her belly, then slidlower to heat her sensitivefolds.Surprisingly, he tossed

backthelastofhisscotchinasingle gulp. “Make all theguesses you like. Won’tchange how we’ve arrangedthis.Nosensemessingwitha

goodthing.”Heather didn’t have that

impression at all. If she’dbeen able to open up, totrust… Even if that werepossible, she couldn’t risk itonaguylikeJon.Hewastoosharp. His words, his eyes,his perceptive mind—they’dslicerightintoher.Howlittlewould remain of her hard-earned control after she letthathappen?Notenough.Whichiswhy

itwouldn’t.“Of course.” Nearly the

same height when she woreheels, she nuzzled her upperlip against his lower. “Weeach have our defenses.Better to keep them thatway.”His grin spread wider. At

least she knew this one—notthedisdainheheldforothers,but one of decadentintentions. “Sixnights of sexdoesn’t mean we’re going

steady,Ms.Morris.”“Six?Ionlycountfive.”“Six. Or else why are we

here? I’ll give you a hint. Itwasn’t so you could remindmeofmymanners.”His hands rested lightly at

herwaist,buthemovedthemup, up, just slightly. Thefabric of her dress followedthat seductive lead, as if hemight undress her right thereatthebar.“You play at this bad-boy

shit.”Shewasedging towardthelimitofhispatience.He’dlose his temper soon. Shewantedtobeonthereceivingend of it—something real.“It’s only putting off theinevitable. One day you’llleave the Air Force, marrysome plastic PlayboyBunny,put on thirty pounds andblendrightin.”Her dress hitched up four

inches as Jon’s eyes flaredhotandangry.“Beingabitch

doesn’t suit you. Too sweetaround the mouth. Tryagain.”“Your parents are a

convenient excuse to behavelikeanasshole.”“Better.Onemore time so

Iwon’tregretwhatI’mgoingtodotoyou.”Heather’s knees threatened

to give out. Screw that. Shewantedmore. But she saw iton his face—the samelocked-down ache she’d

glimpsed when he describedlosing his sister. Whatevershe said next would changethings between them. End it.Or keep…whatever it was.Thewordswere thickonhertongue as she weighed theirworth.Ultimately,shedidn’twant

toaddanymoretohispain.So she cupped his cheeks.

Hisdimpleswereundertheresomewhere, as unlikely nowas snow on the Strip.

Stretchinguponhertoes,shekissed him. Lightly. Just atouch. He was too rigid toacceptanythingelse,withhismouth set in that derisivesmirk.“You’re better than this,”

shewhispered.He closed his eyes.

Breathedout.Thenthebarestnod. “You see, now I feelproperly chastised. Feelbetter?”“Oh, no.” She looped her

fingers around his belt.Tugged.“Comeoutandplay,flyboy.”He opened his eyes. They

were clearer, friskier, andthankfullyfreeofhischillingdisdain. “I think I will. AndI’m still going to do what Iwant to you.” He took herhand.“Thisway.”Still dizzy from what felt

like a heightened version oftheir games, Heather’santicipation gathered in a

slow burn. He practicallydragged her through thecountry-club ballroom. Hisprofile was amazing.Aristocratic and bold, yetaccentuated by his militarybuzzcut.Thecontrastalwaysdid hot things to her guts,melting her from the insideout.“Perfect,”hemuttered.He shovedher in aheadof

himandclosedthedoortoanabandonedcoat-checkroom.

“Whatdoyouexpecttodoinhere?”“Jerk off while you stand

nakedagainstthewall.”Shecouldonlyblinkathis

bluntstatement.“Forgetit.”“I’mserious,Heatherlove.

Naked.Now.”“Jon—”His shrug was almost

enough to cutoff theurge toask him to back off, but hiswords killed it dead. “Don’ttell me you’re tired of our

daresalready.”“Here?”“Right here. Strip. If

anyonewalksin,Iwantthemto get a serious eyeful. ThenI’ll tell them to get the fuckout. Someone might get tolook,Heatherlove,butyou’reminetonight.”Hisexpressionwasprimal.

Fierce and intent. He stoodthere as if they werediscussing how annoyingtourists could be. So casual,

from his shoulders down towherehishandstuckedinhistrouser pockets. Not evenfisted. If she could learn thatartificial cool, she’d quit herjob and forever earn a livinginthecasinos.“Andyou?”sheasked.“Oh, I’m staying clothed.

Just a wank, remember? Noneedtowrinklemysuit.”“I don’t believe you. You

won’t be able to go throughwithit.”

Amusement glittered inthose rich brown depths.None of their tensiondissipated, but their play hadreturnedinfull.Shesoakeditin.Arelief.Andahugeturn-on.“I don’t believe you will

either,Ms.Morris.”Thereitwas.God,resisting

his dares was like resistingthe urge to look over theprecipice of a cliff. Or jumpoff.

She reached behind herback and tugged the longzipper.Thedressparteddownto the lace at the top of herthong. With a simple shrug,the purple satin fell into apoolatherfeet.“Bra.”Hiseyesandnostrilsflared

as she complied.Oneminuteon,thenextitfelltothefloor.She shivered. But she wouldwinthis.Allsheneededtodowas focus on his reactions.

She was too turned on, toocurious,todwellonitnow.“Thong.Butkeep thehigh

heels.”Heather lifted her brows.

Then she was naked exceptforapairofthree-inchpurplestilettos. She backed againstthe wall, hands behind herback. The pose deliberatelyshaped her hip into a slinkycurve and thrust her breastsout for his admiration. Andoh, did he admire. His lips

parted.Belt open. Fly open. Cock

out.Shedidn’tbelievehim.No

way. Not in a hundred yearswould he stand there andcome without including her.But then,shehadn’tbelievedhim capable of shutting itdown when he’d softlyfucked her in the parkinggarage.When it came to justabout anything, themanwasas stubborn as hewas clever

andfilthy-minded.He was stroking now,

flogging his long, beautifulprick.“You won’t.” Her throat

was dry as theNevada sand.“Youwon’t.”“No telling.” He’d gone

breathless.Hiswristjerkedasheworked up and down thathard length. “Maybe I’llcome so hard I stain thatprettydressofyours.”“Get off it, Jon. Come

here.”“Nope.”Thetendonsofhis

neck pushed against hiscollar. He looked up at theceiling briefly, eyes rollingclosed in obvious pleasure,before snapping back to herbreasts—specifically hernipple ring. “Touch yourself,Heather love. Are you wetwatchingme?”Everywordwas rough, so

lowandinterspersedwithhisquickinhalations.

Hell, she might as wellmake herself come if hewasintenton seeing this through.So slowly, she slid a handbetweenherthighs.Themoanthat surged from her throatwas completely involuntary.No ruse for him. No tease.Just the pleasure of findinghowkeyedup her bodywas.Hewascapableofdoingthattoherwithjusthiswords,hisstance,hisgoddamndares.“That lovely cock is about

to blow. I think you’rerunningout of time.Becauseif youcomewithoutme, I’mputtingmydressbackonandournight’sover.”Shesmiledand slipped two slick fingersinto hermouth. “So fuckmeordon’t,flyboy.”One long stride brought

him to her. His mouthslammed down over hers,theirmostbrutalkissyet.Hepinned her hands above herhead. Tongue deep in her

mouth. Hard cock pressedagainst her nakedbelly.Thathe still wore his suit—thatimbalance—always did suchradical things to her self-control.Shebehavedasifshereally wanted him todominate her, even as shefought to control him inreturn.Each time,shecravedthevictoryofyankingcontroloutofhisgrasp.He only released her long

enough to roll on a condom.

Heather sighed in hismouth.Yes.Shewouldgetwhat shewanted.“You think you have the

upper hand, don’t you?” Hesuckedandbitthetopsofherbreasts. Eager hands twistedthat sensitive flesh. Heathersquirmed and fought back,butheshockedhertostillnesswith one swift plunge. Helicked the skin he’d marred.“Damn,”hegroaned. “That’sgonna bruise. And we still

have to make it out of here.All those eyes on my teethmarksonyourtits.”The pace of his strokes

amped until they matchedwhat he’d done to himself.Sharp.Fast.Intentonaquick,hard come. Heather grabbedunderneath his arms andcurled herself into his leanstrength.Thegorgeousshockof being filled, then beingfuckedsowell—Christ,she’dnever get over it. He was

simplythatgood.Jon cupped her ass. “Feet

up. Hold on. Don’t scream,Heatherlove.”Shedidashecommanded,

even finding the presence ofmind to laugh against hischeek. “So that’s your angle.Mebeingquiet?”He kissed her, swift,

smiling.“Dareyou.”The weight of her head

becametoomuchtobear.Sheleaned back against thewall.

Jon had her.His strong armswrappedtighterunderherassand thighs. Again he duckedhismouth to her breasts. Noslow, seductive tease.Animalistic. Just claimingwhathecouldreach.Histrueenergy was focused on eachpulsing drive into her slickcunt.“Knew you couldn’t,” she

breathedagainsthisear.“Fuckno,Icouldn’t.”Aftersomanyfakesmiles,

his harsh-edged admissionsent Heather over the edge.Sheclungtohim,groundherhips, buried her mouthagainst the shoulder of hissuit coat. Tensed. Shriekedinto warmwool that smelledofhim.“Headup.Letmeseeyou.”Heather barely had the

strength to comply as histhrustsdrewoutthepleasure.More gathered, threateningheragain.

“You’re going to comeagain,aren’tyou?”She nodded weakly. So

dazed.Sodamngood.“Keep your head right

there.” He smacked andsurged into her pussy. Asrelentless as a jackhammer.“Don’t fuckingmove. Iwanttoseeitonyourface.”Heather stared into his

eyes.Hermouthopenedonasilent scream as anotherorgasm set her body on fire.

Jon grunted. Another threehard strokes and heshuddered on a long, lowexhalation.His head thunkedagainst the wall next to herneck.“Just…fuck.”“Yes,”shesaidonasmile.

“Nowlet’sgetthehelloutofhere.”Jon lifted his face. He

matchedhersmile.“Iknewitfrom day one. You’rewicked.”

“Yay for you. Called itright.”But as she tugged at her

dress—with Jon’s assistancethis time—shewondered justwherethisgamblewouldend.Power and seduction. Riskand reward. The unrealfeeling that each encounterwas digging a deeper tunnel,straighttowardherheart.Jon took her hand and led

her out of the ballroom as ifnothing had happened, as if

theirclothesweren’t rumpledand his teeth marks didn’tadorntheupperswellsofherbreasts.Heledheroutof theballroom as if none of itmattered.Thatwaswhatscaredher.

ChapterTwenty

Jon parked as close to theflight line as he could get,thenpowereddownthetopofhis convertible. He proppedhis head on the windowsill,looking up. The sky hadtakenonthepeculiarwhiteofthe desert before the sunrevealed the full colors of

sunset. Even that rich sightwould be hard to competewiththeviewofVegasontheothersideoftheflightline.Heconsideredignoringthe

phonewhen it rang.“Hot forTeacher” meant Ryan, butFriday evening wasn’t aguarantee of happy tidings.Ryanwasjustaslikelytocallwith a question about nextweek’strainingexerciseasaninvitationtogrababeer.Jon answered anyway. He

owed his friend that muchconsideration. “I kind ofthought having a girlfriendmeant you’d actually spendweeknightsdoingfunshit.”Ryan’s laughwasfamiliar.

“Your jealousy is comingthrough loud and clear.GivemefiveminutesandI’llgiveyouamillionreasonswhymeandCassareawesome.”“I’vegotallthetimeinthe

world.Throw’ematme.”Jon could all but picture

theman’sseriouslook.Browfurrowed and mouth flat.“Whyallthetime?”He almost lied, mostly

becauseheknewwhatwouldhappen. Sometimes a guyreally did need some quiet.But he’d never lied to thepeople who mattered. Everytimehetried,heheardhisdadpromising to be there forJon’s chess match. Or firstsolo flight. Or Air Forceawardceremony.“I’monthe

flightline.”“Gimmetenminutes.”Exactly what he’d

expected. Like code talk, heand Ryan only had to admittheyweresittingontheNellisflight line for the other tocomerunning.Hecouldalwaysdependon

hisfriends.Preciselywhatheneededthatevening.Sure enough, Ryan’s giant

truckpulledupjustundertenminuteslater.Jonslippedout

of his DBS before the tiredust settled. Their manlyheart-to-heartsdidn’twork inthe low-slungsportscar.Toomuch like lying down, andadding talking on top of it.Forgetit.Ryanmet him at the back

of his truck where they letdownthetailgateandhoppedup.Jon squinted at the distant

skyline. The sun was going.Thelightsneverturnedoffin

Vegas—the real city thatneverslept.“So tellme,Fang.Doesn’t

Cassobjecttoyoujettingoutonher?”He shrugged those wide,

corn-fed shoulders, even ashis smile turned sheepish.“She’satthegallery.”“So that’s why you can

drop everything and comerunning.”“That and the way you

light the dark parts in my

soul.”Jon snickered. “Cass is

goingtobeheartbrokenwhenyou leave her for me.Especially with Don’t Ask,Don’tTellgone.”“Actually…” Ryan’s grin

turnedmegawatt. “Gotta say,I don’t ever see leaving her.Thingsaredamngood.”“Luckyman.”Acidburned

throughJon’sguts.Jealousy?He’d never found thatconnection with any woman.

The way things were goingwithHeather,hesureasfuckwasn’t going to find it withher.“What about your reason

forbeingtoobusytopickupLeah last month? Skippingthis month’s poker?” Ryanhitched an arm over the sideofthetruckbedandeyedJon.“How are things with themysterywoman?”“I don’t know.” He

scrubbed the back of his

neck. “I mean, the sex isamazing.”“Definitelyabonus.”JonflippedRyanoff.Justa

quickone, forgoodmeasure.“Therewas this shitwithmyparents,andaneventIhadtogo to last weekend. Iunloaded on her. Wasn’tpretty.”“Did she stick around

after?”“More or less.” Long

enough for them to go at it

hard and fast in that coatcloset. So hell yes, she’dstuckaround in thebestkindof way. They’d evenmanaged ameet-and-fuck onWednesday.Samerules—herplace in the dark—but greatfortakingofftheedgeafterahardday.Buthehadn’taskedto stay and she hadn’toffered.Whatever. He didn’tmind “closed off” from thechickhewasbanging.Long-term didn’t figure into any

pictureoftheirfuture.He should be enjoying the

fuckingride.“Couldn’t have been too

bad,then.”“Notatall.”“You know, I once got a

piece of excellent advice.”Ryan looked toward the skywith a smug smile. “I wastold I think too much, andthat the cure to that was tofuck too much instead. Iwonderwhomight have said

that…?”Jon’s laughter felt good.

Better laughter than otheremotions. Hismom had sentSara’s books. The deal wasdone.Nopoint inwallowing.“Me,numbnuts.WhenIwasbeingmymostbrilliant.”“I don’t know about

brilliant. Sometimes you’redumb as a rock. Only, onoccasion, you accidentallysaysmartthings.”“Good to know.” Jon

pushed off the end of thetruck.“Wanttogotoascotchbar?”“Youknow,mostmensay

‘getabeer’.”“Mostmen are Philistines.

You’reluckytoknowme.”Ryan smacked him across

the back. Hard. “If yourexistential crisis is over, I’mgonna ditch out. Pick upCassandra at work. See ifshe’ll set aside new exhibitplans long enough to have

dinnerwithme.”“You’re putting poon over

bros. I seehowit is.”Butheknew Ryan wouldn’t takehimseriously.“If you’re as smart as you

think you are, you’ll do thesamething.”Maybehewould.Thetime

in the coat closet withHeather, the way she’d doneexactly what he ordered—while challenging him inreturn…Hewastornbetween

knowinghecouldshowherabettertimeandfeelingfaintlysmug about how hard he’dmadehercome.Twice.So, even as he watched

Ryan’staillightsfadeintothedistance, Jon pulled out hisphoneanddialed.“CaptainCarlisle,”Heather

answered, her voice full ofspice. “I laid a bet withmyself regardingwhether I’dhearfromyoutonight.”“Didyouwinorlose?”

“Let’s just say I enjoyedthesurprise.”“Then meet me. If you

thought the wine bar wasremarkable, I’ve got theperfect place to show you.The Lux is new downtown.Threehundreddifferentkindsof scotch and two levels ofdancefloors.”“That sounds like your

type of joint, not mine,” shesaid on another laugh.“Besides, I’ve got plans

already.”“DoIknowhisname?”“Aren’t you amusing,

flyboy. But no.Her name isJenn. We’re going to themovies, eat chocolate andpopcorn,andtalkaboutboys.Your name may or may notbementioned.”Heconsideredapologizing.

Maybe not for their time inthe coat closet, and certainlynot for the hours after he’dtaken her home. They’d

stolen through her darkenedhouseandheadedstraightforbed. But maybe he shouldapologize for earlier thatevening. He’d let hismother’s standoffishness ridehimasifitwerenew,asifhewere still a vulnerablefourteen-year-oldkid.He’d learned to create an

impenetrable shield ofattitude and insouciance, buthe also knew what kind offrozen wasteland that left

behind. No middle ground.He’d been a user for a longtime.It felt a lot like this.Only,

at that moment, it didn’t fithisskin.“Hey, about the other

night.Youdidn’tdeservemyshit.”A long pause faintly filled

the line with static. “I’m notsurewhattodowiththat.”“NeitherdoI.”“Well, then. Apology

accepted. Don’t you dare doit again.” Her husky, teasinglaughunwoundthetensionhehadn’t realizedwassostronginhismuscles.He especiallyenjoyed when her laughterwas real, like right then.Warm.Inviting.The more astounding

realization was that he couldapologize.Huh.Whoknew?He rubbed his head as the

colorful Vegas lightsbrightened. Memories of

every previous encountercoloredhisvoicewitha tasteof excitement. “I’ll make itworth yourwhile some othertime.Enjoyyournightout.”“Two moments of

generosity in a row, flyboy.Areyourunningafever?”“You keep teasing and I’ll

beasselfishasIthreatenedinthatcoatcloset.”“Younever could andyou

knowit.Partofthefun.Howabout tomorrownight?Bring

takeout.”He wasn’t about to revisit

where they hooked up. Thefacthewouldhaveheragain—have her in ways thatremained unknown butpromised exquisite pleasure—made him smile.“Tomorrowthen.”With that, they signed off.

But Jon’s restlessnesswouldn’tabate.Hesank into the front seat

of his car. If Heather wasn’t

going to play out, he’d findanother option. It used to beeasy. His buddies. Theirhaunts.Shewasbeginning todominate his thoughts andwants way too much. Timefor a reminder that arelationshipbasedonsexwasjust that. He wouldn’tconsiderHeatherafriend.Anundeniable temptation, yes.After the recent remindersofhis family, his old life, hisyouth—heneeded the snarky

ease of hanging out with hissquad mates. Uncomplicatedandmindless.With a few quick phone

calls, he scrounged up adecadent plan worthy of histastes and reputation. High-endluxurywrappedaroundasmorgasbord of booze andmusic. A few hours later, hesmiledasLeah,totallydolledup for clubbing, slipped intohisDBS.Sheworeaskintightpair of jeans topped with a

low-cut,darkpinkhalter-top.After darting across the

city, they rolled up to thevaletstandatTheLux.“Hey, there’s Dash. Did

you call him too? Cool!”Leahwavedmadly.“Dash!”The woman had no

restraint. Not like Heather,whose elegance was enoughto believe she’d been raisedamongtheeliteandpowerful.Surehe’dapologized—whichwas only right, after he’d

behaved like such an ass—but perhaps her reserveremindedhimtoomuchofhisworld.Shewouldneverbeaneasywomantoopenupto.Nowopeningherup?That

remained his prime directivein their relationship. She hidtoo many secrets for him towalk away. The challengeremained. The thrill of thehunt.Liam “Dash” Christiansen

strolled toward them, his

hands in thepocketsof slim-cutblacktrousers.Heflashedhis shark-wide smile. “Ididn’tdarebraveapproachingtheentrancewithoutyou,TinTin. The line is as long as arunway, and the bouncerlooks like The Hulk. Minusthe green. I’m not aboveadmitting this place is wayout ofmy league. I’d need apersonality transplant and aguest spot on What Not toWear before making the

attempt.”“Shit,youtalkalot,”Leah

said with a grin. “Apersonality transplant wouldbewelcome.”Jon shook his head.

“Besides,wherethehelldoesa proper fighter pilot learnanything about What Not toWear?”“Sunny, dude. She loves

thatshow.”Leah coughed around a

word that sounded

suspiciouslylikewhipped.Dash returned thecoughed

insults. Something like ball-buster.She laughed. “You know

it.But seriously. That line isintimidating as hell. I’d bewaitingforhours.”“No way,” Jon said.

“Maybe Dash and his dorkyloafers,butyou’dbejustfine.Abouncerwouldlosehisjobforkeepingyouout.”Dashlookeddownatshoes

worthy of an aging highschool economics teacher.“Come on, now. We knowPrincess would get in. She’sbangableenough.”“You got that right,” she

pipedup.“But my shoes are just

fine.”“They’re not,” Jon said

shakinghishead.“Honestly.”“JCPenneyspecial.”“It’s a damn good thing

you’remarried,man.”

Dash conjured one of hiswide, wide grins—adeliberatejest.“Theywereonsale,even.Unbeatabledeal.”Jon lifted an eyebrow.

“What is this ‘on sale’ youspeakof?”“You dorks gonna stand

here all day? If I have tolisten to this crap all night,I’llneedmargaritas.”“You always need

margaritas,”Dashsaid.Jon led them toward the

clubandgavehisnametotheconcierge girl, who usheredthemtotheVIParea.Massive crowds and

sweaty bodies alreadycrammed the club. Dimlights,ofcourse,buttheplacewas industrial chic. Irongangways overhead were thebest touch, where scantilyclad girls did their bestimpressionsofgo-godancers.As he strolled beneath theirgyratingasses, Jonwondered

if theywerewearingpanties.He couldn’t catch a glimpse,which only made him morecurious.Damnifhewasn’taddicted

tomystery.Otherthanspeed,itwashisdrugofchoice.His thoughts shot right

backtoHeather.Whatwouldsheweartoagirls’nightout?Didn’t matter. He knew thesecrets of her body, whatshe’d be hiding beneath themost demure ensemble. The

thoughtmadehimsmile, andhe indulged in a surge ofarousal.The sex in the air atThe Lux only heightened hisawareness of every femalebody, every gyrating hip,everypout—whetherfakedorgenuine.What sort of bullshit

emotion had he beencontemplating with Heather?She was the best time he’dhad inyears.Walkingamidstthat churning chaos of

hormones, his impulsescrystalized around the mostrelaxing thought he’d had indays. She was his for thetaking.Hisforthepleasuring.Fantastic.When the petite hostess

waved toward a round tableencircled by a black-backedbooth, he had no troublepicturing a much differentend to his evening. He shotoffaquicktext.Lethertrytoignore his invitation. For a

moment he’d contemplatedthat maybe, just maybe, shewasgood forhis ego.Knockhimdowna fewpegs.Screwthat.Shewouldcometohim.She had yet to refuse one ofhis dares, which was such afuckingturn-on.He faced thehostess. “If a

Ms. Heather Morris arrives,she’swithme.”The woman nodded and

madeanoteonherclipboard.Dash and Leah perked up,

even as they slid into thebooth. Leah waved down awaitress. The Princess of the64thcouldalwaysbecountedonforawildnight.“And who exactly is Ms.

Heather Morris?” Dashasked. “A one-night stand orthree-weekstand?”“I’ve stopped counting.”

Jon sat and hitched his armsovertheback.“Let’sjustsayshehasn’tboredmeyet.”

“Miracle,” Leah muttered,afterorderingthefirstround.“Don’t get lippy, Princess.

Shouldn’t you be bumpingandgrindingbynow?”“In search of tasty beef?

Definitely.” Off she went,already shaking her ass intimetothepulsingrhythm.Easingintothepossibilities

of the night, into that samerhythmofsexandtemptation,Jon nursed a scotch. Whatreally went to his head was

anticipation.IfHeatherdidn’tcometohim—adareinitself—he’d make sure she knewthat tomorrow wasn’t soonenough.Bustdownherdoor.Strip her bare. Take whattheybothwanted.

ChapterTwenty-One

Heather was just about toroll another hunk of hairaroundhercurling ironwhenhercellrang.NotJenn,thankGod. Neither of them couldstand another delay to theirplans for a girls’ night. Andshe was thankful it wasn’tJon.Onlythetroublesheand

Jenn constantly had inaligninganightouthadheldoff the temptation of sayingyestohisinvitation.Theyes,yes,yes inherheadhadbeenloud,withherlibidoshootinginto overdrive. God, he wasgood. A few slinky syllablesand she was ready all overagain.Nothingcameclose tothewaytheydroveeachothercrazy.His apology, however…

She’dspoken the truth.What

was she supposed to dowiththat? Ignoring it for nowseemed the best answer. Ithad been polite andcompletely appropriate,considering his behavior atthe country club. Mostlyshe’d been pissed that hisanger continued to weaveunder her skin. Beneath hisplayboy exterior was a realperson, a real man with realemotions.Dangerousstuff.She thumbed the cell

phone. “Hey, Dad,” she saidwithasmile.“Hiya,honey.Howgoes?”Herfather’swelcomevoice

hadn’t tensed a knot in herstomachforyears.Theywereon fantastic terms now. Sowhythesuddenunease?Highschool.Thatweekend

when she’d hopped on theback of a Harley and runaway. She’d needed years toerasethedamageshe’ddone,all because of the crazy

chances she’d taken.Earningback their respect hadpropelled theambitionofhertwenties. She stillremembered the stony, hard-bitten silence of that car ridehomefromJersey.Ifherdadknewwhatrisks

shewastakingwithJon…And there it was. The

answer to her tight gut. Herarrogant playboy addednapalm to the fiery wildnessshe’d kept under wraps for

years. A harsh reminder ofwhat she’d inflicted onherselfandherfamily.“Honey?”She put down the curling

iron.“Sorry,Dad.Justsortofdistracted. Getting ready togoout.”“AmIinterrupting?”“Noway.How’sMom?”“Good,”hesaid,alwaysso

upbeat. Heather dragged thathappinessintoherself.“She’ssitting by the campfire,

reading.”“Whereareyounow?”“Somewhere in the eastern

half of Virginia. At acampground. You’d hate it.Totalroughingit.”“Then I’ll just say ‘Gee,

I’m glad you’re enjoying it,Dad!’”Shecouldn’thelpbutsmile. Her parents had takento the road on a grand RVadventure,asiftheiryearsofrelocating from base to basehadleftthemunabletosettle.

In the meantime, she tookpride inbeingable toprotectthe assets they’d worked alltheirlivestoscrimpandsave.If she set aside a little morefromherown salary to serveasanextraguarantee…It was the least she could

do.“Warm here today,” he

said. “Really nice. But Isuppose you’re stillsweltering?”“AC’s running full blast.”

Shetouchedupherblushthenfoundherkillerblackpumps.“I’ll step outside and all thework I’ve put into lookingnicewillmeltrightoffme.”“Hotdate?”At one time, so long ago,

shewould’vetakenthosetwowordsasquietcondemnation.She swallowed back the oldreflex.Shewasthirty-twoandshe wasn’t even seeing Jonthatnight.Anuncomfortablepinchof

disappointmentunderherribsmadehermovementsedgyasshe gathered purse and keys.“Nah, just a girls’ nightwithJenn.Cocktailsandamovie,Ithink.”“Sounds great. I haven’t

been to amovie theater in…Wow,Ican’tremember.”“Toobusy seeing real life.

We cubicle types needHollywoodtoliveitforus.”“Don’t sound so

disappointed.Atthemoment,

real life includes watching asquirrel taking a shit. I havetosay,that’safirstforme.”Heather stopped in the

doorway to her garage,holdingontotheframeasshelaughed.“You’regonnamakemymascararun!”“Seriously, Heather. I

wouldn’thavethoughtthey’dhavesomuchinthem.”“You’regross!”“Yourmomtellsmethatat

least daily. Normally I’m

completelyinnocent.”“But not this time?” She

gingerlywipedtearsfromhereyes.“Nope. Pretty damn crass.

But I’m keeping you fromcocktails.Gottabebetterthanmy nature-show narration.Haveagoodnight,honey.”“Thanks, Dad. Say hi to

Momforme.Loveyouboth.”“Loveyoutoo,Heather.”Sheswitchedoffthephone

and tucked it in her shiny

metallicgreenclutch,astrongaccent to her entirely blackensemble.Foramoment,shestood in the garagedoorway,her back against the wood.Had her father been any lessforgiving and patient—oddconsidering what a hardasshe’d been to his Armysubordinates—they neverwould’ve made it.Relationship kaput for good.Her behavior back then hadbeen bad enough to snap a

saintinhalf.Nowhewastheoneperson

on the planet guaranteed tomakehersmile.“Squirrel shit,” she

muttered to herself as shestarted up herCamry. “Whatadork.”She was still grinning as

she drove to a bar off theStrip. Called InescapableFuture, which was sopretentious as to add to heramusement, the place was

deckedoutinsci-fiJapanese-style cute. Just cutenesseverywhere, as ifHelloKittyhad barfed up a cocktaillounge. Pink and iridescentpolka-dot paint, strings offlashing lights in fuchsia andpurple, and pictures of everycartoony cat and puppy andpony imaginable. Heatherstood in the entryway withher mouth slightly agape.Only when she noticed acutesy squirrel did she let

looseanotherlaugh.“You’re in a goodmood,”

came Jenn’s voice. “Good!Let’sdothis!”Perfectlyquaffed,perfectly

puttogether,Jennflewintheface of stereotypes aboutstay-at-home moms. Shewore a low-cut fire-engine-red top and a dark, slim-cutpair of slacks.Only her flatsgaveawaythefactshedidn’tdresstothenineseveryday.They settled onto very,

veryhighbarstools,thefluffyupholstery of which waspink-and-whiteleopardspots.Their round table waslacquered in black with itty-bittyseagulls flying in lettersthat spelled InescapableFuture.Heather laughed again and

smoothed her hair. “If this isthe future, I’m pretty sure Iwanttodieyoung.”“Damn skippy.” Jenn

flagged down the nearest

waitress. Thewomanwore auniform that included thigh-high metallic boots and awhite sixties-style micro-dress.“Mojito,”Jennsaid.“Abigone.”“I’ll have one of those

frou-froumartinismadewithGodivaliqueur.”The waitress nodded,

which barely shifted herblack angle-cut bob wig. Notelling her expression behindhuge silver sunglasses and

goldlipstickasthickaswax.After chit-chat aboutwork

and Jenn’s family, thecocktails arrived in massiveglasses. “Ooh, I’m glad youdrove!”Heather grinned.

“Suddenly the twenty-two-dollar price tagmakes sense.You could measure these bythegallon.”“They’re cheaper than La

Rocca’swould’ve been.Youknow, it’s okay if you talk

abouttheplace.Ipromisemyfeelingswon’tgethurtsinceIgot laid that night and youdidn’t.”Itonly tookabout twoand

ahalfsecondsforJenn’seyestogowide.Heatherwonderedif shewas really that easy toread,andhopedthateasewasconfined only to her closestfriend.“Did youmeet someone?”

Jennleanedin.“Youdid!Nowonder you sent thosewine-

tasting notes through yourcell at, what, two in themorning? I noticed, youknow.”“That doesn’t mean

anything. I could’ve beenworkinglate.”“You’re a blushing liar.

You’ve been having hotcavemansexandhaven’ttoldme!”Heather took a sip of her

chocolatemartini,whichwasjustgorgeous. Jennmoved in

for thekill. “Don’t think thatold sip-and-look-away thingworks on anybody butdudes.”“What,Richnotkeepingit

spicyenoughforyou?”“He’s not the problem.

Midnight kid puke and abusted water heater can bewet blankets, though.” Shegrinned in away thatprovedmarried mothers in theirthirties had filthier mindsthansocietygavethemcredit

for. “But we’re here now,interruption free, and I needdetails. Our fate as friendsdependsonit.”“Thatserious,huh?”“Spill.”After a deep breath,

Heather started with thebasics. Met at the winetasting. Roulette. One-nightstand.Jennraisedherneatbrows.

“You?Rockitout.”“Yes, me,” she found

herself saying. Why? As ifbeing seen as a stick-in-the-mudhadn’tbeenhergoalformorethanadecade.“I’mnotdead.”“Which is what I’ve been

saying for three years now.Washeworthit?”Heather answered with an

uncontrolledgiggle.Shetookanother hasty sip, smilingwithoutpretense.“Youcouldsaythat.”“Caveman sex for the

win!”“Nah, that seems too…

derogatory. Jenn, he’s sodamn upper class. Comesfrom old New Englandmoney.”“Whatdoeshedo?”“Air Force. Flies F-16s at

Nellis.”“You’reshittingme.”Heather shook her head.

He sounded even more toogood to be true whendescribed aloud. “Nope. I

thought he was teasing too,there at thewine tasting.Butnope. Air Force ID andeverything.”“Wow. And he’s not an

asshole?”“Oh, no. He totally is.

Pervertedashell.But…”Sherealized the weird, dreamyquality to her voice whenJenn’ssmileturnedknowing.“Keep it comin’. But

what?”“He’s amazing. A

gentleman. I’ve never metanyone like him. All coolcultureon theoutside.SweartoGod,Jenn,he’dblendinata White House Christmasparty. He’s funny. I just likehim,attitudeandall.”“Probably because of the

attitude.” Jenn sipped deeplyof her mojito until only icechunks remained. “I mean,who else do you have atwork? That guy Grant?Please. Loaded fighter pilot

sounds much moreappealing.”As Heather filled in the

details she’d gleaned aboutJon’s background, herrespiration increased. Wherewashe?Whohadhedecidedtospendtheeveningwith?Aflash of disloyalty to Jennmade her divulge more thansheintended—orelseshejustneededtoshare.“Andhe’sadamnrockstar

in bed. Or in an abandoned

coatcloset.”Jenn laughed. “You

whore!”Thewaitress had returned,

her eyebrows raised abovethe silver sunglasses. Jennordered another then leanedintowhisper,“Acoatcloset?Not,like,oneinyourhouse?”“WithallthecrapIstorein

there?Noway.”Heatflushedup fromhernape.Herwholefacewasbathedinthewavesthatdancedoffabonfire.“At

the Paulson Country Clubballroom.”“Double whore! Oh, I’m

totallytellingRichonyou.”“He won’t believe you.”

The alcohol had gone to herhead,justalittle,ormaybeitwasthethrilloffinallybeingable to tellher friend.“Wait,how does one become adoublewhore?”“Doingitinaposhcountry

club.” Jenn shrugged. “Ortwodudesatonce.”

Heather flinched, butperhaps they’d strayed evenfurther beyond what Jennbelieved her capable ofhaving done—and wellbeyond what Heather wouldeveradmit.“So have you seen his

plane?Thatwouldbehot.”“Not yet.” So many times

she’d meant to ask. Make aformalrequest,asopposedtohowshe’dplacatedhimatherbirthday dinner. She didn’t

like lying to her friend, butthealternative—admittinghercowardice—wasnotgoing tohappen. “I can’t just take offfromworkduringtheday.”Jenn waved a negligent

hand. “I’m assuming youmaketimetohookup?”“Yeah.”“Ihearanother‘but’,don’t

I?”Heathertookadeepbreath.

The chocolate liqueurchurned in her gut. Not so

gorgeousanymore.“Iwanttoknow more about him. Seewhere he works. Meet hisfriends. And yes, there’s abut. Because all of that’sscarier than getting caughtdoing…”“Thecoat-closetsex.”“Yup.”Despite having dipped

heavily into her second giantmojito, Jenn lookedremarkably sober when shetook Heather’s hand. “It’s

been a while for you, hasn’tit?Thescaryshit?”Heathercouldonlynod.“Me too. Iwouldn’t know

what to do with a new guynow.I’mgladthoserisksarelong past and I get to gohome to a man who lovesme.”Shesighedalittle.“ButIalsorememberhowitwasatthe start. The thrill. Theobsession. Sometimes it’sworththerisk.”“Andwhenit’snot?”

“Eh.” Jenn’s giggles wereback. “Then you’ll haveplayed the field. No regretswhenyoudosettledown.”Back to that word regret.

Heather had plenty. Itremainedoneofherlifegoalsto create as few as possible.More and more, denyingherselfanychancetobewithJon,nomatterhowitworkedout, felt like a future regretwaiting to happen. She’dthought the same thingabout

herfirstnightwithhim.Onlynow,itwasn’tallaboutsex.An hour later, when Jenn

ducked into the bathroom,Heather checked her phone.A text from Jon. Her heartjumped.TheLux.Comeandgetme.He was so goddamn

arrogant. She loved it. Herinstant arousal had almost asmuch to do with his attitudeasitdidwiththeirchemistry.One fueled the other, round

andround.Jenn had trouble walking

back to the table, so theydecided to call it a night. Amovie wasn’t in the cards.They’d moved on to othertopicsonthedrivehome.Notthat Heather couldconcentrate verywell. In hermind, shewas already at theclub.Already had Jon in hersights.She parked in front of

Jenn’s adorable ranch house.

Thelivingroomlightwason.Richwaswaiting up for her.Despite her anticipation of afun night ahead, somethinglike longing shivered overHeather’sskin.She walked Jenn safely to

her front door, amid thewoman’sgiggles andwobblyfootsteps. “Go find him,”Jenn whispered as theyhugged. “I’m a pumpkin byeleven, but you’re not. I betheisn’teither.”

“JustwhatIhadinmind.”“Oooh,badgirl.Iloveit.”Rich opened the door and

led his wife inside, among aflurry of well wishes andgood nights. Heather turnedaway.HerCamrylookedlikea smashed tin car comparedtothemonster thatwasJon’sDBS.Heather shook her head.

She opened her phone andread the text again, as if itwould make the situation

more real. Clear theconfusion from her brain.Onlyonethoughtremained.“Noregrets.”Almost forty-five minutes

later, just short of midnight,shearrivedatTheLux.ClubsinVegasshutdownwhenthesun came up. The onlyproblemnowwas the line ofpeople waiting to get in.Dawnwouldreachherbeforeshereachedthedoor.She couldn’t imagine Jon

standing in line. No waywould he have chosen thisplace if he didn’t haveconnections.Heather unbuckled and

stripped her lightweightMarino cardigan. Thecamisoleunderneathwasalsoblack, but nearly sheer. Atight black skirt and killerhighheels.Herhairdoneup.Maybethiswouldwork.A valet took her car. She

hid a cringe at the cost, then

shestrodetowardthebouncerat the head of the red velvetline.Sheknewwhatitwastolook a tough situation in theface.“Is Jon Carlisle here? I’m

Heather Morris. He’sexpectingme.”She waited a few tense

seconds. Her pulse waspounding.“Right this way, Ms.

Morris.”Thebouncer ledherindoorsandhandedheroffto

a scantily clad woman.Dancer?Waitress?Notelling.“AguestforMr.Carlisle.”The woman only nodded.

Her hair was incrediblyblonde. Neon blonde thatglowedunderafewscatteredblack lights. She ledHeatherupstairs and through aconfusing maze of bars,dance floors and privaterooms.Therehewas.So casual, he leaned with

his arm stretched along theback of a thickly paddedleatherbench.Atallmanandafit,petitebrunettesatacrossfromhim.Heathertossedherhairand

walked slowly forward, as ifhe were watching her. Andsoon enough, he was. Hisbrows lifted. Dark eyeswidenedjustatouch.His reaction—slight, but

pure interest—wasenough topower Heather’s slinkiest

smile.Gameon.“Goodevening,Captain.”

ChapterTwenty-Two

That low, sultry voicewasalmost too quiet to be heard.People chattered all aroundthem, and a thumping bassbeat never let up. Excepttherewas noway Jonwouldmissit.Heather.She looked amazing. As

usual. A black skirt clung toher hips and emphasized hersensual shape.While her topcamisole was also black, itsdeep V-neck displayed paleskinandplentyofcleavage.Jon snapped his surprise

back toward neutral andcrossed one ankle over hisknee as if he couldn’t give adamn.“Goodeveningtoyou,Ms.Morris.Care tocomesitonmylap?”She barely twitched an

eyebrow, but shared humorwasobviousinherdarkeyes.“The booth will do nicely.Fornow.”She slid in to sit beside

him. Not close enough totouchbutnearenoughtofeelthe warmth from her skin.“Nice that you could makeit,”hewhispered.“Myegoismuchassured.”“Your ego is

unbelievable.”“Itworks.Hereyouare.”

Hedidn’twant toexaminehow pleased he was thatshe’d arrived. Women wereas thick as flies at The Lux,and plenty of them hot asfuck. He could’ve taken anyone of them home. Nonewerehalfsointriguingas thebeautybesidehim.Wasthatabenefit or a detriment? Anyotherwomanwouldbeeasierto forget, but withoutHeather’sinnatechallenge.“HeatherMorris,allowme

to present a coupleincorrigibles,” he said,waving at the others. “DashChristiansen and PrincessLeah Girardi. Mycoworkers.”She lifted dark eyebrows.

“That means fellow pilots,doesn’t it? I’m surprised thethree of you aren’t holdingcourt,baskinginattention.”Dashlaughed.“Someofus

aren’tonthemarket.Marriedeight years, since graduating

fromtheAirForceAcademy.She’sinDCatthemomentorI wouldn’t be sitting herelookinglikeatotalloser.”“Andasyoucan tell,” Jon

said, “Dash is not shy aboutdivulging his life story tonear-strangers.”Leah’s eyes gleamed. She

stuck out her hand to shakeand shot Jon a look ofapproval. Good. He likedthat. He wasn’t aboveadmitting how much he

enjoyed impressing hisfriends with the women heintroduced. “This calls foranotherroundofdrinks.”Dash sipped his beer. “As

do Mondays and Tuesdaysand completing a sentence.I’dhaveasix-dayhangoverifI tried to keep up with you.Probablynotagoodcallforadudewhofliesjets.”“You just wish you knew

howtohaveasgoodatimeasIdo.”Thewaitressdeposited

amargarita in front of Leah,who licked her fingers cleanof dribbles of booze. Shegrinned at Heather. “Drinkup, sweetie. There’s dancingtobehad,unlessyou’rereallysticking by this perv allnight.”Jon trailed his fingers

through the curling ends ofHeather’s hair. Dark silkseemed an inadequatedescription.Hewantedtofeelit skimming over his lower

stomach. “Isn’t that part ofmyindescribableappeal?”Heather smiled as she

pickedupherownmargarita.“I think she described it justfine.”Leah laughed. “Perv?

Totally.”Jon offered a lazy salute.

“No denying what we are.For example, you, Princess,are an adorable yet hardcorebitch.”She tossed her ponytail

back over her shoulder, hardenoughthatafewlockscameloose. “Have to be to whipmaleass.”Dash laughed and affected

a mock-sympatheticexpression. “If that’s whatyou want to believe, you goon with that. But reallyyou’re a sweet little kitten.Weallknowwhenthedayisdone, you sing sappy balladsusing your hairbrush as amicrophone. And bubble

baths would definitely figurein.”“Let me tell you what I’d

dowith a hairbrush to a buttmunchlikeyou.”Leah andDash got into it,

turning trash talk into an artform.NormallyJonwouldberight up in the middle of it,but he found himselfwatchingHeather.Morethanthat,hewatched

the way she examined theother two yahoos. A tiny

smile curved her lips as sheslowly sipped her drink. Sheglanced at him. “Can I helpyou?”Anobvioustease.“They’re rather like

monkeysinthezoo.”“I heard that,” Leah

snapped, flipping him off.She’d managed to find yetanother shotof tequila. “Youfling poop with the best ofus.”“Nice, pottymouth,”Dash

said. “I never heard the realPrincess Leia talk like that.Maybe you need a differenthairdo, help adjust yourattitude. Something withcinnamonbuns?”She rolled her eyes. “Oh,

Star Wars references. Hownovel.”“I think it’s remarkable.”

Heather finished themargarita Leah had orderedfor her but refused another.“They just don’t stop. How

doyouactuallygetanyworkdone?”He missed the feel of her

skin, so he wiggled fingersbeneathherflowingcamisole.The hem of her skirt wasnext. “My extreme stores ofpatience.”“Sure,” she drawled. “But

it’s fascinating too. You’reall…a unit, for lack of abetterword. There’s no suchthing asmorale building. It’salreadythere.”

He liked her hair curled.The style gave her a softerlook, made her moreaccessible. He pushed thedark strands off her shoulderand caressed her skin.“Accounting doesn’t lenditselftocohesion?”Her husky laugh went

straight to his cock. “Not intheleast.”Leahwasallbutdancingin

her seat. The woman had ahardtimeholdingstill,which

made it astonishing that shemanaged to drink so much.Two trips to the dance floorhadn’tshakenallherwigglesout. “It’s thewar-zone thing.Doesiteverytime.”Heather’s pale eyes went

large. She looked up at Jonfrom under her brows. “Warzone?”“Totally.” Leah was

blithely shaking salt on theweb between her thumb andforefinger, then lining up a

limebetweenringandpinkie.Shedownedashotof tequilalikeapro.“AskJonaboutthetime we launched out ofBagram on less than a half-hourprep.”Somebody was drinking

herself a pair of loose lips.People who’d played in thedesert together tossed aroundoh-shit stories when thebooze flowed. Either theyturned bad and someoneendedupbawlinginhisbeer,

ortheyturnedrowdy.Jonratherlikednursinghis

slow-burn arousal. He stood,tugging Heather along withhim.“We’regoingtodance.”She frowned slightly, as if

chagrined by his demand. “Idon’trememberyouasking.”Dash clapped, then tossed

in a whistle for goodmeasure. “You tell him,sweetheart. Make him workforit.”She grinned atDash. “I’m

not your sweetheart,handsome.”“I like your style,” Leah

saidwithabounce.Jon laced their fingers

togetherandliftedthebackofher hand to his mouth. “Ms.Morris, would you care todancewithme?”“I’dloveto,Captain.”Her smile was brilliant.

Unforgettable.Thegirlwasbadforhim.Theprospectofunraveling

hermysterieswouldkeephiminterested for a good longtime. But was that worthgoing deeper? Was shecapable of letting anyone in?He’d learned the hard waythat some people weren’tbuilt that way. Didn’t meanthey should be punished, butitdidmeanheshouldsticktothose who’d proved worthyof his trust. Leah and Dash,Ryan and the rest of theirfriends.

Christ, that left thequestion of whether Jon wasevenreadyforanythingmore.As interesting as Heatherwas, it wasn’t as if he had abackground of healthyrelationships.Bettertowatchherleadthe

way to the packed dancefloor. His weakness wasn’thercurvyass,whichcertainlyappealed. Itwas the lookshethrew over her shoulder.Mischief. Mirth. A hint of

wickednessattheedges,asifthey were already alone andnaked.He’dnevergetenoughof that challenge, thatpromise.On the parquet floor, he

grabbed her hips and tuckedhispelvisagainstthelushasshe’d justbeenadmiring.Onehand followed the naturalcurve of her hip into theshallow of her waist. Histhumb played in the hint ofher navel, under her shirt, as

theymovedtothemusic.He tucked his chin along

herneck, tookasipfromherskin. She smelled sweet. Hewanted bigger and biggerbites.“Howaboutme?CanIcallyousweetheart?”“I like it better when you

speakFrench.”“You mean when I talk

dirtyinFrench.”She wrapped an arm back

around his neck. “I’vebecome too obvious. You’ll

bedonewithmesoon.”That seemed incredibly

unlikely,althoughpartofhimalmost wished it were true.He’d shake off the weirdmood that always took overwhenhewasn’tincontrol.The playlist was eclectic,

everything from house torock to rap. The onlyconnection was the sub-mentalbassbeatthatwhippedpackedbodiesintoafrenzy.That she danced well was

nosurprise.Everymovementwas erotically charged. Shedidn’t seem to notice howmen’s eyes tracked her, howtheyfollowedeverypulseanddip. Jon noticed—both themen and her body. Shecaughtfirewiththemusic.Mostly guys left them

alone. After dancing for agood thirtyminutes, theonlypersonwhoapproachedwasatall, slender blonde. Thewomandancednearer,edging

closer.JonliftedhisbrowsatHeather.Shegavehimoneofthosesecretsmilesandturnedaway.The finger she crooked at

the blonde was packed withattitude.Then, whoa damn, was it

on. Heather and the womandidn’t bother to speak. Noneofthat.Justhipspumpingandasses shaking. The blonde’spetite chest pressed againstHeather’s back before they

switched.If Jon were a lesser man,

hemighthaveoverloaded.Nochance. This was one of thehighlights of a lifetime. Hemade the most of gorgeous,grindingeyecandy.WatchingHeather twine around theslender woman dragged hismind toward thousands ofpossibilities. He consideredhis time with Heatherexclusive, as he did withevery sexual relationship—

onemystery at a time, ratherthananyforcedmorality.Hisnatural inclinations towardnovelty, however, jacked hisarousal to new heights.Nothing wrong with apowerfulimagination.ExceptDashtappedhimon

the shoulder. “We’ve got asituation,TinTin.”Jon sighed. He gave

Heather theoptionofstayingto dance, but she wavedgoodbyetotheblonde.Dread

tookawalkdownJon’sspineas theymade theirway backto the VIP area. Leah was amaster of getting into thedeepshit.Though really, dancing on

a tabletop didn’t top the list.Could have been worse.She’d stripped off her pinkshirt. The bra underneathcovered most of her goods,but that didn’t matter. Thewaitress stood next to thetable.Herexpressionwasless

than pleased, mouth pinchedand eyes narrowed. “Shethrewaglass.”“Hitanyone?”“No.Werunabetterplace

thanthis.”Jonpeeledoffasmallstack

of bills from his wallet andshovedtheminherhand.“I’llgetheroutofhere.”“Make sure she doesn’t

comeback.”Leahhadstrippedtheband

from her ponytail. A dark

mass of hair spread over hershoulders. “Hi, Jon.” Shebeamed. “Hear that song?Thisismydamnsong.Ithinktheyplayeditforme.”“Why don’t you come off

there?”“Don’twanna.”Heather laughed. “Come

down or I’ll tell Jon he canspankyourass.”“Crap. Can’t have that.”

Even as Leah slurred thewords,shescrambleddown.

Dash took the shirt fromthewaitressandhelditouttoLeah. “Time to cover up.Save all the pretty for HanSolo.”“God I wanna smack you

tonight.”“Don’t talk dirty to me.

Sunny would have yourhead.”Leah stuck out her tongue

andflipped theshirtoverhershoulder. She led the paradeout of the joint. At least she

wasmobilethistime.She frowned when they

madeittothevalet.“Ineedacab.”“No, you don’t,” Jon said.

“I’lldriveyouhome.”“C’mon, in the Aston?”

Dashshovedhishands inhispocketsandlaughed.“You’reout of your mind. She’sgonna puke all over yourupholstery. Do you knowhowmuchittakestogetacardetailed? No wait, don’t

answer that.Far toopracticalforaplatinum-cardguy.”Leah wandered off,

chatting up a knot of guys.One of them put a hand onher bare waist. Was that acigaretteinherhand?“Whatever happens, it

needs to be quick,” Jon said.“I’vedoneitbefore.Besides,putting her in your littlezipper of an Evo isn’t anybetter.”“Mycarhasfourdoors.”

“And an engine thatbelongsinaFerrari.Youtakeone turn too fast, and she’lltosshercookiesalloveryourupholstery. Explain that toSunny.”“Tootrue.Night,all.”Heather angled closer to

Jon. Most of the curl haddropped out of her hair.Damp tendrils stuck to herforehead. She lookedgorgeous, as if freshlyfucked. “I brought my car.

Four-door sedan. No scaryfast engine. Just giveme heraddressandI’lldropheroff.”Jon watched her for a

moment, then helped secureLeah into the passenger seat.Only after discharging thatduty did he catch Heather’swristandpullherclose.“Youknowournight’snotover.”“I’d be disappointed if it

were.”“Can’thavethat.I’lllead.”“Driving, or with

somethingelseinmind?”“Try me, Heather love.”

He strode back to hisAston,once again riding high onanticipation.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Asshedrove,HeatherkeptglancingatLeah.Thewomanwas hot. Shorter, fitter, withan effervescence thatprobably explained why hermale friends put upwith herantics. But then, Heathercould relate too.Shesawherold self in Leah’s behavior,

so much so that she almostdidn’t want to get involved.Almost.Thestricken lookonJon’sfacehadconvincedher.She’d never imagined hecouldlookhelpless.The urge to take that

burden from his shouldershad overpowered her fearsabout looking her past in theface. Only Leah’s face waselfin. Her baby-doll eyeslistedtohalf-mastjustbeforeshe popped the window and

huggeditwiththedevotionofalover.“Oh,crap.WorseoffthanI

thought.”Heather nodded. “Always

is.”“Youdon’tseemthetype.”“Everyone says that. But

everyonehasapasttoo.”Leahsweptdamphairfrom

her eyes and tossed a half-grinoverhershoulder.“Ain’tthat the truth. Only mineseemstobehappeningnow.”

“Futureregrets?”“Something like that.”The

woman covered her mouthwith the back of her hand,swallowed a few times andclosedhereyes.Heather stopped at a red

light,with Jon’spantherof acar right in front of her. Shecould imagine his anxietyfromeventhatdistance.Whatwasitabouthimthat

compelled such loyalty?Andwhatwoulditbeliketobeon

thereceivingendofthatsameloyalty?Almost toobright tolookatfully.Shemightwantit too much when theirrelationshipmeantitwaswayoutofreach.SherememberedwhatJenn

hadsaidabouttakingtherisk.Not yet. She just couldn’t.The thrill hadn’t worn off.Jonstillscaredtheshitoutofher. She couldn’t possiblyopen herself to a man thatpowerful. The hurt it caused

when it fell through wassomething she never wantedtoendureagain.“You two having fun?”

Leah asked. “And don’t playdumb. Last thing you are isdumb.”“Yes,we’rehavingfun.”“He’s kinda known for

that, but choosey with hischicks. You seem different,though.”“Why’sthat?”“He hasn’t moved on yet.

Makessensetome.You’reacoolcharacter.”“Um…thanks?”“Yup, meant as a

compliment.” A giggle cameout of nowhere, thendisappeared on a flash ofpuke face. She hugged theopenwindowonceagain.“You need me to pull

over?”Several deep breaths later,

Leah mumbled a negative.Sheslumpedbackinherseat.

“He’s a good guy under allthe bullshit.Would lie downin front of a truck for hisfriends.” She waved a handtoward her disheveledappearance. “As you mighthavenoticed.”“Anycluewhy?”God,she

hated pumping an insensatewomanforinformation,butitwas a lot safer than playinghead games with Jon to getthe same answers. Ugh. Shehadn’t thought herself quite

thatmuchashrinkingviolet.“His sister, I think. His

parents. When folks leave,it’s hard not to cling hard tothe ones who stay.” Sheseemed towarm to the topic,mostlysittingup.Arelativelycoolbreezeaddedwhitenoiseto the inside of Heather’sCamry. It seemed almostprivate, as if that was theperfect place to divulgesecrets—even if it stilledgeduncomfortably close to

prying. “He comes across allplayboy and shit, but he’s afuckinggeniusandasofty toboot.”“Asofty?ThatIdon’tget.”“You know what he does

with his salary? The wholething? Sixty-some grand ayear goes straight toOperation Homefront.Supports hard-luck militaryfamilies.”Heatherblinked.Shecould

see it. Know it. When had

that become possible? Thesuave stranger at the winetasting didn’t give to home-front charities. But JonCarlisledid.“Did he actually tell you

that?”“Nah.Sawtheenvelopeon

his desk during one of ourpoker games with Ryan.Wegrilledhimuntilhefessedup.Stubborn butthole.” Leahgroaned and held herstomach. “Not much farther,

by the way. Up here on theleft.”“ThankGod.”“Bitch,” she said with a

grin.“Idon’tteasehimaboutit much ’cause he gets sodamnprickly.Trashtalkingiseasier,youknow?Helikestokeepitquiet.Notshowoff.”Heather kept her eyes on

the DBS’s lights just ahead.“That’saswitch.”“Youknowfronting,right?

You seem the type.” She

grinned again. “One bitch toanother.”“Sure.” Heather kept her

voiceeven.Noncommittal.“Yeah, that’s him. Two

years, and it’s a fuckingmiracle I know this much.You strong enough to digpast?”Heather kept her attention

trained carefully on theapartment numbers, awayfrom answering the question.“Hereweare,yes?”

Leahwaggledherfinger.“Isawthat.”“You’re awful insightful

forbeingsodrunk.”“It’sagift.”Heather turned into the

parking lot of a halfway-decent apartment complex.The stucco could usetouchingup,andtheroofhadseen better days, but the lotwas amply lit and thewalkways had recently beenredone.

Maybe it was the suddenshift from forwardmotion topark that sparked Leah’srenewed nausea. She poppedthe passenger door open andswung her head outside.Heatherdidn’tneedtolooktoknow what came next.Listeningwaswayplenty.Jon gracefully unfurled

from his sports car. Heappeared to stroll as casuallyas always, hands stuffed inthepocketsofhis slacks, but

he wore a tension across hisshoulders that was easier toidentifynow.“So you made it, Princess

Leah.”Heather shut her door and

camearoundtothepassengerside in time to see Leah’sthumbs-up.“Noproblem,RinTinTin.Gotitcovered.”“Well, your shoes are

covered.”“Dammit. I like these

heels.But leatherwashes off

as easy as rubber sheets,right?”“Wouldn’tknow,”he said.

“I’maGarnierThiebautmanmyself.”“I’ve never heard of it.

Means freaking expensive,yeah?”“You could say that.” He

held Heather’s hand andspoke near enough forprivacy. “Well worthchecking out, Ms. Morris.Decadentstuff.”

Was the look he slidHeather another dare? Sheknewhewantedhertoseehisplace.Againcamethatshiverof intimacy she feared. Jerksdidn’t want girls to come byand take a look at the ranch.Maybe playboy trust-fundboys did—showing off whatthey could offer beyond aslammin’goodtime.Thatjustdidn’tseemtobe

Jonanymore, especially afterLeah’sslurredrevelationsleft

Heather more confused thanever.Fielding his silent

expectationswasfreakingherout. The urge to call it offbattled right alongside theneed to grab on and not letgo.Hewastoogood to letgo.

So why were her handsshaking at the thought?Whydid she want to jump in hercar and run right back to hersafe,placid,well-earnedlife?

She smacked into thatwordcowardagain.Leahwipedhermouthwith

herwrist.“Ugh.”“Classy, Princess. Up you

go.” He used those strong,lean arms to haul theincreasingly dazedwoman toher feet. “Where are yourkeys?”“Asspocket.”“Thenyoufishthemout.”“Aw, Dimples, don’t want

your girlfriend to watch you

feelmeup?”Jon scowled. “First off,

you smell like a tequilafactorywith a side of vomit.Second, I’m pretty surefeeling up a fellow officer isfrowned upon.” He put herarm around his neck. “Holdon,dumbass.I’mnotcarryingyouagain.”Heather grabbed both

purses and locked up,following the pair toward afirst-level apartment. Leah

managed to fish her key outfrom skintight jeans, but Jonunlockedthedoor.Lightson.Intheywent.To say Leah’s apartment

was a shock would’ve beenan understatement.Everything was tidy.Spotless.Notabookorthrowpillow or piece of hangingcoppercookwareoutofplace.Thecontrastwasastonishing,consideringhercurrentstate.“Couch,bedorbathroom?”

Jonasked.“Bathroom,bed.”“A fair improvement from

last time. Kitchen floorwasn’tyourbestchoice.”“Neitherwasredwinewith

JackandCoke.”“Wine before whiskey,

mightyrisky.”“How terribly folksy, rich

boy.”Jon snorted. “At least I

took it to heart…about tenyears ago. Get with it,

Princess.”That last line was sharp

enough to jerk Heather’sattention away from analphabetized Blu-ray rack.Although he continued hissnide jokes, Jon revealed hisfatigue in tight lines aroundhis eyes and in the way hismouth never quirked. Therapport held the same bittertwinge as when he’d leveledcountry-club prigs withquietlysarcasticcomments.

“Anything I can do?” sheasked.Jon looked back over his

shoulder.His expressionwasnearlyapologetic.“Takewhatyou want from the kitchen.This’llonlytakeaminute.”“Always with the chatter

like I’mnothere,”Leah saidonalaugh.ShesurgedoutofJon’s arms and flew towardwhat must’ve been thebathroom.Jon’s shoulders slumped.

Drawn to him, Heathercrossed Leah’s immaculatelyvacuumed carpet—the linesfrom each pass still made asunburst pattern in the pile.She exhaled then drapedherself along his back, armsaroundhistensemiddle.“Youokay?”Only a shrug, but

eventuallyherelaxed. It tooktime, as if he was certainshe’d pull away, that thecomfortsheofferedwasonly

temporary.He smelled good.A combination of lightaftershave and sweat fromwhen they’d danced in theclub. Sex standing up. Thethrill of when he’d watchedher dance with that prettyblondeseemedverylongago.“Let me get her into bed

andwe’llgetoutofhere,”hesaid. “She’ll sleep it off justfine.”“Noproblem.”He turned, his expression

coming to life. “How wasyourgirls’night?”“Fun.Reallynice,actually.

Jenngotbombedtoo.”A ghost of a grin tipped

one corner of his mouth. Herestedhishands at herwaist.No passion there, just whatfelt like a man holding on,needing something steady.Heather only wished shecouldofferthat.“So we’ve both been

tendinglushesallnight?”

“Seemslike.”He kissed her forehead.

“Glad you showed up. Theywere boring-ass companytonight.”“Can’thavethat.”A steady, salacious look

down her V-cut top temptedherplayfulJonbacktolife.HerJon?Getittogether.“I do like this one.” He

skimmed his hands up herbody until he cupped her

breasts. One thumb toyedwith her nipple ring throughthe sheer black fabric. “Butthen,you’rewearingit.Addsanundeniableappeal.”“Flirt.”“Unapologeticallyso.”So, she couldn’t offer to

see his place. Not yet. Butmaybe there was a safermiddle ground to take thatpossibility off the table. Adistraction.She curled her fingers

under his lapels. They stoodnearly eye-to-eye. “On mybirthday, I mentioned seeingyour plane someday. Is thatstillapossibility?”Hisbrows lifted.“Onyour

birthday, hm? Was thatbeforeorafteryou’dawokeneveryinnocentcreatureinthedesert?”“Before.” She toyed with

the lapels of his suit thenbegan unbuttoning his coat.“I’ve heard you’re a fighter

pilot. Need to see it formyself.”“Because fighter pilots are

fuckingstuds.”The vest beneath was hot

with the pulse of his body.“Oh,yes.”“A week from Thursday.”

It wasn’t a question, whichshelikedmorethanshecouldunderstand.Her idea, but hiscommitment to it.“Maintenanceday.Boring-as-hell classes, but no flights.

We’llhaveprettyeasyaccessafter,say,four.”Heatherdidamentalcheck

of her calendar and nodded.“I’llclearwhatIneedto.”Frank satisfaction shaped

his mouth. A flash ofdimples.“Cool.”“Oh, God, no making out

inmylivingroom.”TheyturnedtofindLeahin

thedoorway to her bedroom.She’d wet and combed herhairandputonapairofyoga

pantsandacamisole.Jon only flashed his

asshole smile. “Keepingourselvesoccupiedwhileyouproved perfectly capable oftaking care of yourself.Welldone.”Leah flipped him off, but

dark circles already huggedbeneath her rich brown eyes.She stumbled back into thebedroom.“Rightback,”Jonsaidwith

asoftkiss.

Hefoundabottleofaspirinin the hall closet, poured aglassofwater fromapitcherin the fridge and grabbed astainless-steel bowl out of acabinet. The actions wereunerring.Howoften had thisscenebeenrepeated?Heather stood in the

bedroom doorway andwatched as Jon forced hisfriend to drink all the water.“In the bowl, this time.Clean-upwill be a bitch and

youknowit.”“Ugh. Yes. Now go. I

fucked up your date enoughalready.”Jonsaidnothing,onlyshut

off the nightstand light.“Sleep,Princess.”Heatherbackedawayashe

leftthebedroomthentookhishand. She couldn’t sayanything about what she’dwitnessed. It was too close,toopersonal.Sheneededtimeto sort through what that

evening had done to herheart. Wrapped it in barbedwire,maybe.Growingtightereveryday.But she needed it too. She

wasbeginningtoneedhim.“Comeon,”shewhispered.

“Timeforyourreward.”He cocked an eyebrow.

“Reward?”“Oh,yeah.”“I don’t know anyone

who’d turn down a rewardfromyou.”

They locked Leah’sapartment, with Heather stillleading him by the hand. Toher Camry. She thumbed thekeyfobbutdidn’tgetintothedriver’s seat. The backseatinstead.Jon loomed over her,

framed by the door and aparking lot light five spacesaway. “Do you live for thisstuff,Heatherlove?”“Ihaven’t.”Not fora long

time,sheaddedsilently.

He shed his suit coat andvest, dropped his suspenders—rightthereinfullview.“SoIbringitoutinyou?”“Youdo.”“You should know I like

thesoundofthat.”She tipped him a saucy

smile and leaned back ontothe seat, stretching as muchas possible. “Thought youmight.”Although a tight fit, Jon

climbedinandshutthedoor.

Locked it. They pressedtogether in the dark, theirbodies still scented withsweat from the club. Shelikedthat.Primalandreal.Jonunbuttonedherslim-fit

trousers and flipped her ontoher stomach. “Otherwisewe’ll have to take them allthewayoff,andfrankly, thatdoesn’tseempossible.”Her cheek pressed against

the seat’s upholstery. “BetterthaninyourDBS.”

“You’re not by chancedouble-jointed?”“Nope.”“Then you’re right.” The

sound of his zipper sent apulse of want straight to herpussy. Then the condom.Then his prick right againstherslickopening.“Nowholdon,Heatherlove.I’mreadytoclaimmyreward.”

ChapterTwenty-Four

Threehoursintoaclassonavionics, Jon was two hourspast frustrated. Pissed,maybe.He sat at thebackofthe briefing room, poppinghis pencil up and down on anotebook. Annoyance ate uphis spine and twisted hismuscles.Hecrossedanankle

over his knee. But boredomwasn’teventheproblem.Captain Eric “Kisser”

Donaghue sat in the frontrow. He talked somuch thathe might as well have beenteaching—except he didn’tunderstand half thetrajectories he wasbullshitting.Jon couldn’t keep his

mouth shut anymore. Heleanedforward,elbowsonhisdesk. “Kisser, run the route

you’re describing, and plantyour nose in the dirt. Thenumbersdon’tsupportit.”Capt.Donaghue twisted in

his seat and sneered. “Flyingisn’t all about the numbers,TinTin.”“Planesdon’tstayintheair

because they want to. Youhavetodoyourpart.”Ryan stepped out from

behind his podium, handslifted. “Gentlemen. We’re inthe middle of something

here.”The class wasn’t going to

do Donaghue much good ifherefusedto listenorgethishead out of his ass. Jon hadseen the otherman fly, beenat his wingtip. Same aseveryone else in the room.Apparently only Jon sawwhatadangerthemanwas.The problem originated

with sharpedges.Every timeKisser got in his plane, hepushedhisyaw toohard.All

jerky moves and lostopportunities.The beastly F-16s were

designed to work withinspecific parameters. Therelaxed static stability meantenhanced maneuverability,but the engine couldn’t bepushed the way Donaghuefuckedaround.One day he would go too

far. Jon just hoped those hecared aboutwerewell out oftheway.

Bythetimeclassdismissedand he made his way to theoffice he shared with Leah,Jonlethisheadwrapintothenumbers—apredictableplacewhereeverythingmadesense.If anypilot flew sohard andlow, the way Donaghueadvocated, the drag on theaerodynamics would catchholdandpullhimdownevenfarther.Thespeedrequiredtoovercome that differencewouldbetoosignificant.

After dropping into hisdesk chair, he scratched outthe numbers on a piece ofscrap paper. He punchedthemintoacalculator,justtomake sure he was right. Healwayswas.Tossing the pencil down,

he sighed and pushed hispalmsagainsthisclosedeyes.Theslightburndidn’thelp.Christ only knew why he

was trying to make Kisser’sflight plan work. The man

had all the charm of anorangutan, and he and Jonhadnevergottenalong.The door to the office

opened to reveal Leah,looking as clean and puttogetheras shealwaysdid inuniform. She grinned at himand sat without grace. “Howtheyhangin’,TinTin?”He leaned back and laced

hisfingersoverhisutilitarianflight suit. “You alwaysrecoversowell.Asifnothing

evenhappened.”She shrugged. “The

benefitsofhealthyliving.”“Uncountable margaritas

and half a dozen shots oftequilaishealthyliving?”“Nope. But my five-mile

run this morning?” Shepumped her fists as if shewere running before foldingher hands behind her head.Elbowsout.Legsstretchedtofull length. She looked aschill and relaxed as possible.

“That set me up right andtight.”Heshookhisheadwhilehe

laughed, thenshuffledpapersaroundonhisdesk.Thisrighthere. This was why hecouldn’thelpbutseeifEric’snumbers worked. Thesepeoplewerehisfamily,anditwas in his nature to try. Tryand try, even when peoplelike Leah seemed more likesolid concrete. Or the factthat Jon knew he’d always

give Donaghue another shot.If the opportunity came up,he’d sit the man down andhave a chat about thelimitationsoftheirplanes.Leah’s mouth quirked.

“Spitit.”“You. You drive me nuts,

youknowthat?”“You’re just jealousofmy

recoverytime.”“You’re wasting your

potential,doyouknowthat?”he echoed, this time with

deliberate harshness. Maybesomething would sink in foronce.Darkness filtered across

Leah’s features. “Bullshit. Ifly fighter jets for a living.I’maboutasawesomeastheycome.”“Right. That’s why you

don’t rememberhowyougothomeonSaturdaynight.”“Your girlfriend.Her car.”

She winked. “Besides, wehadfunupuntilthen.You’ve

gottoadmitthat.”Jon’s mouth opened, but

before he could answer, hisphone chirruped. He dug itoutofhispocket and swipedthe screen. It was an email,which was normally no bigdeal. Except the sender wasHeather.Hewishedhewereactually

as laid-back as he madepeople believe. Mr. Cool’sheart jumped into a heavier,faster beat. He should’ve

been more worried that hewasasap,buthisheadfilledwithimagesof theirroundinthebackofhercar.Thewaythey twisted and grappled.The way they’d fogged thewindowsuntilshegaspedhisname.“Now there’s a look I

could have done without.”Leahmadeashowofholdingup one hand and putting theother over her eyes. “Justwrong.”

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Heglancedupevenwhileheheldthephone.Heshouldwait.Heshouldn’topentheemailyet.Heclicked.“Dirty thoughts.Youwere

thinking dirty thoughts.” Shepaused. A little frownpinched her mouth. “Ididn’t… I don’t remembereverythingIsaidthatnight.”He stacked his hands over

his phone. “Look, you were

fine.”She shifted in her seat,

picked up a flight manual,tapped it on her knees. “It’sone thing if I wreck myself.But I wouldn’t ever want toputyouinabadplace.Orsaythewrongthingtoyourgirl.”Hisgirl.Maybeshewas.Maybeshe

wasn’t. The email was thefirst time she’d initiatedcontact.His issues with Heather

were secondary for themoment.JontargetedLeahinhissights.“Wreckyourself?”“I don’tmean anything by

it. Just if I get myself introuble, it’s no big deal. I’mmyownresponsibility.”“That’s where you’re

wrong. We’re friends.Changeseverything.”She laughed, although it

sounded strained. “Your TinTinisshowing.”“Whatever.” He sat back

again.“Icantellwhenyou’renotinthemood.”“You just make sure it’s

Heather’s moods you payattention to.” Leah all butlaunchedoutofher seat.Sheshoved a notebook and herrunning shoes into a blackworkoutbag.Heranhisthumbalongthe

coolmetaledgeofhisphone.“Hermoodsaremybusiness,thankyouverymuch.”She kept him on his toes,

evenmoresothanhisfriends—Leah and Ryan and therest. Thingsworked outwiththem because they gave himthesamesupportinreturn.It remained to be seen

whetherHeatherwouldprovetobethatreal.Leah stopped in the

doorway. “We should go outthisweekend.”He couldn’t help his

chagrin. “I’m not up foranothervomitfest.”

“Iget it.Youdon’t thinkIdo, but I do. Maybe rockclimbingorsomething?”“Yeah.I’llgiveyouacall.”A minute later, she was

gone. He hated to attach theword finally to a friend, butthere it was, hovering in hishead. He flipped his phone,wokeitupandscrolleddowntoHeather’smessage.The first line was in

carefully researched French,but he thought by the formal

conjunctionthatitmighthavebeen translated by awebsite.He didn’t care. The contentmade him smile. AninvitationtodinnerataplaceJonrecognizedasadivejointwith awesome malts. She’dattachedacaveat—shewouldbethereexactlyatsixandshewasn’twaiting.Aglanceupatthemilitary-

issuewallclockshowedhe’dbecuttingitclose.Notimetoscrambletohiscondoandget

changed. He had a spare T-shirt and pair of jeans in hisoffice. Locking the door, hestripped out of his flight suitand changed in the tiny,windowless room.At the lastsecond, he grabbed his flightjacket. Plenty of dry warmthlingered in late summer, butoncethesunwentdown,coldwouldkisstheair.At one minute before six,

he pulled into the diner’ssmall asphalt lot. He battled

theimpulsetowaitinhiscar,simplytomakethepointofapreciseentrance.Ormaybeitwas the realization that hehadn’t been on a date withHeather when not dressed tothenines.He shook it off. Not

exactly worth worryingabout.Pushing through the plate-

glassdoors,hefoundasquareroomwithlittledepth.Atthefarendwasapick-upcounter

andawindowintothekitchenwhere an army of cooksswarmed. The booths weresmall and laminated, withblack-cushioned seats. Thewalls were covered with amural that must’ve beenpainted by a cadre of eight-year-old girls obsessed withneon colors and fantasyanimals.Peoplegobbledfriesand burgers out of redbaskets.He stood in the doorway

until he spottedHeather.Shewas seated in the far corner,fiddling with a white strawandaStyrofoamcup,asifshewas nervous. He liked thatpossibilitytoomuch.She looked up. Her

expression didn’t change fora long moment. Jon’s chestcontractedwhenshesmiled—slow, drawn out. That smilepromised all the things she’dliketodotohimlater.Or maybe those were his

thoughts.As he approached, he

couldn’thelpbutadmirehowgood she looked. The blousewas ivory against her paleskin,withahintoflaceatthebuttoned-up collar.Technically her breasts werecovered, but the slick satingave him a visceral reaction.Hishandswantedtotakeandtouch, to let tits settle in hispalms.He followed pure instinct

without second-guessing.Oncehereachedthetable,heleaned down and took hermouth, fast and swift. Theirkissesspikedsoquickly—wetheatunderhistongueandthescrapeofteethoverlips.He only pulled away once

their breathing roughened.“Hello.”Heather rubbed the corner

ofhismouthwithherthumb.“Youcertainlydoknowhowtogreetagirl.”

“You looked so neat andproper.Iwantedtomessyouupalittle.”She tugged the hemof his

T-shirt. “Funny, I could saytheoppositeaboutyou.”He helped her up and led

her to the ordering window.“That doesn’t sound like acomplaint.”“It’s not, flyboy.” She

slanted him one of thosegorgeous, challenging gazes.“Notintheleast.”

ChapterTwenty-Five

“Number eighty-five.Orderup.”Heather looked toward the

windowwherealargemaninan even larger greasy whiteapron slid two red basketsunder a string of heat lamps.Beneath the table, shesnuggled high heels between

Jon’sboots.Hisjeansrubbedagainstherbarecalves.She took a long sip of her

drink. “What do you think?Eighty-five hours at the gymtoworkitoff?”“Hmm.” He rubbed his

chin as if in deep thought.“Perhaps eight-five health-codeviolations?”“Eighty-fivedripsofsweat

inthehamburgermeat.”Jon leaned his elbows

against the white Formica

table, which was, thankfully,squeaky clean despite thedive’sgrungyatmosphere.Hegrinned. That full-ondevastating grin. Completewith dimples. The one madeof pure fun,with only a fewglimmers of sexual intent.She saw it so rarely thatHeather could only sit still,takinginthesight.He cocked that one

amazingly expressiveeyebrow.“Eighty-fiveformer

employees who’ve beenconvictedoffelonies.”“Eighty-five barrels of fry

oilusedeveryweek.”“Eighty-five…nope. Shit.

I’mout.”Heatherleanedbackinher

seat on a laugh. “Eighty-fivereasons why I’m way coolerthanJonCarlisle.”“Oh,comeon.”Hismouth

twisted ruefully. “If I wanttrashtalking,IhaveLeahforthat.”

“Howisshe,bytheway?”Ashrugdidnothingtoease

the tension that shaped hisposture. “Same as always,”he said. “A Tasmanian devilby night. A squared-awaycaptainbyday.”She’d enjoyed the teasing

so much that she regrettedhaving asked. But the thingsLeah had revealed about Jonwere unforgettable. He wasso much more than heseemed.No,thatdidn’tsound

right. He was less than heseemed.DressedinablackT-shirtandjeans,helookedhisage. Young. Relaxed. Lessintimidating.Lesslikeawell-groomed cat on the prowl.Less in control of the worldandhisplaceinit.This version of Jon was a

littleclosertoreal,andahellof a lot scarier. But Heatherwas getting tired. The wallswere hard to prop up,especially when he seemed

intent on breaking themdown. She’d only wanted toassert her authority, to see ifhe would jump when shecalled.Control. She wanted some

semblance of control in thisincreasinglyhypnoticaffair.Herultimatumhadactually

workedagainsther.Sheknewhis suits and his suavebearing.Shehadnoideahowtohandlehimbeingordinary.His version of ordinary was

magical. Same sharp jaw,sarcastic mouth and dark,darkeyes.Theglarefromthelight above their table addedsilver tips to the ends of hisbuzzed hair. Shoulders andarms,all shown toperfectionbythatsimpleT-shirt.Andtheflightjacket.Holy

Christ, she hadn’t beenpreparedforthatatall.AsidefromthewarstoriesLeahandDashhadtoldattheclub,shehad proceeded with Jon’s

military service as merebackground knowledge. Hewas so different from theservicemen she’d knowngrowing up—her dad’s men,or the guys she’d eventuallymadeherhobby.Nowaywasherprettyflyboyofthatsameilk,readytofightanddieforhiscountry.Buthewas.Stories about Jon had

chippedthroughthatartificialbarrier. Seeing him in his

flight jacket when he’dwalked into the diner—thathad crumbled themaltogether. She glanced atwherehe’dhungitacrossthebackofthebooth.Themaninthe three-piece suit was theslicknighttimeversionofthisgenuinefighterpilot.“You’re a good friend to

her,” Heather said quietly.“She’sluckytohaveyou.”“Tiring.”Hemuttered that

singlewordonanexhalation.

Then he seemed to checkhimself. A shadow of hisusualinsouciancecoveredhisfeaturesbeforehejustsighedagain. “Hell, it’s not worththe effort to say otherwise.You sawhowshewas.Ryanand I have been trading offfor going on a year. Shekeepsgettingworse.”Heather swallowed. She

couldn’t stop herself fromdigging deeper, revealingmore. What the hell had he

donetoher?Itwasmorethanthe flight jacket. Keepingeverything elegant andproscribed had been safer.She felt as if her ribs werebeing pried apart. Maybebecause she so desperatelywantedtobreathe.Her voice shookwhen she

said, “I knew a girl like thatinhighschool.”“Oh?” Tilting his head to

the side, Jon took her hands.Their fingers twined in the

middle of thewhite tabletop.“Whathappenedtoher?”“Gotscaredstraight.”“Must’vebeendifficult.”“She…struggled.”“Didshemakeitthrough?”Hernodfelt likebalancing

the weight of the world onher neck. “Took years, butyes.”Deep brown eyes, so

perceptive, looked right intoher.Rightdownintothedark.“You’llhave to tellmemore

about her sometime. Shesoundslikeastrongchick.”God, he was even sexier

when hemeant it.No gamesandnodares.“Orderup,”calledtheman

intheapron.“Numbereighty-nine.”“Eighty-nine frogs used to

spiceup thehamburger,” shesaidwithaforcedsmile.But Jon’s grinwas sudden

and genuine. Damn, thosedimples were insane. “Nah,

you don’t want that. Believeme.” He tapped a fingeragainst her order ticket. “Get’erdone,eighty-nine.”“That so doesn’t sound

right coming from you,RichieRich.”“Doesn’t change the fact

you’vecursedyourselfwithafresh, juicy frog burger.” Hemadeashooingmotion,untilthe cook called his numbertoo.“Well,shit.Herewego.”Theyreturned to thebooth

with red baskets in hand.Heatherhadordereda shake,but it was still too cold todrink. She tried anyway,slippingJonacoylookasshehollowedhercheeks.He stoppedmid-motion.A

fry drooped from hisfingertips.“You’redoingthatonpurpose.”After popping back from

the straw, she nodded at hisfry. “I’d have to suck thathard to get your limp prick

up.”Expression still fixed,

entirely deadpan, he tilted ituptoamoreeagerangle.“Allyours,Ms.Morris.”She grabbed his wrist and

brought the fry to her lips.Onequicklickwiththetipofher tongue.Thenshebit it inhalf. “Mmm…nice andsalty.”Jon’s deadpan slipped. He

laughed,ducking,shakinghishead a little.Heatherwanted

to curl her hand around theback of his neck and stroke,pet, hear him purr under theattention.“How’syourfrogburger?”“Shouldn’t you be asking

methatinFrench?”“Oh,sowittytonight.”But

hehadn’tstoppedsmiling.“What do you think,” she

said, glancing toward awoman at the takeawaycounter.“Aspiring,currentorformercallgirl?”

Stillascoolasifhe’dbeenwearingathree-piecesuit,heeased against the booth andmanaged to look withoutlooking.She’dwitnessedthatsame skill practiced at thecountry club. Here, the needfor such subterfuge wasabsolutely nil, but all themoreenjoyablebecauseofit.Compared to his behavior atthe charity event, Jon wasstrippeddowntobarebones.Oh, but she did enjoy that

idea. And not justemotionally. She’d neverentertainedtheideathatfilledher brain. Jon. Open.Vulnerable. Hers tocommand.Now it would just be a

matter of seducing himaroundtoit.“Current,” he said at last.

“She looks tired. And she’sonlygettingahalfportionoffries. Watching her weight.Buthershoesarenew.”

“Damn,you’regood.”“Gotta have a hobby,

right?”She picked off a sesame

seed,triedtokeepeyecontactbut couldn’t. “Makes mewonder how quickly yousized me up at the winetasting.”“You really want to

know?”“DoI?”Hisgrinhadtakenonasly

edge.“Ithinkso.Evenifonly

to satisfy your curiosity nowthatyou’veasked.”“Goforit.”“Beautiful. Great rack, of

course.”“Of course.” She went

back to nursing her shake tokeephimslightlyoffkilter.“But to be honest, I

wondered if you’d live up tothe hype. Seemed…tame.Predictable.”“Aforlornwomanaloneat

thetable.”

“Conservative in herblazer.”“And you, so unprepared

forhowwrongyouwere.”Jon finished the last ofhis

cheeseburger and lickedeachfingerinturn.Thenheusedanapkin anyway. She wastempted to ask how he’dmanaged so well withoututensils and a placemat butshewastoobusyadmiringhisresponse to her provocation.His eyes had gone sleepy,

perched between intensesexual awareness and thesameplayfulvibethey’dbeenridingallnight.“I was unprepared. Yes.

ButIreturnedthefavor.”“Yes. You did.” Heather

restedher chinonher foldedhands. “Would you answersomethingforme,Jon?”“Well, now.” He pushed

the empty basket away andsettledback.Theposturesaidrelaxation. The sudden

tensionaroundhismouthsaidbring it. “Jon, is it? Thissoundsserious.”“It is. Very. You really

want to know?” she asked,echoinghimonpurpose.“Oh,hellyes.Askaway.”“Whathaven’tyoudone?”“Goback tosuckingwhile

Imullitover.”Heatherloweredhermouth

to the straw. This time shewas rewardedwith chocolatemalt.Shelickedherlowerlip.

“I’mwaiting.”“I’ve never been

snowboarding.It’stacky.”“Fascinating.”“I’veneverbeentoCentral

America.”“Alsotacky?”“No, just not so many

excuses to fly jets downthere. Well, not since theeighties.”Althoughshelovedflirting

with him this way, almostsweetly, she had a definite

angle now, ever sinceimagining him stripped andvulnerable. She couldimagine Jon Carlisle doingalmost anything sexual—except willingly giving upcontrol.“Have you ever played

football?” she askedinnocently.“Pick-up games, sure. For

some reason, the NFL neverreturnedmycalls.”“Have you ever been in

love?”Jon froze. Heather’s heart

skipped. She had wanted hisbody stripped, not his heart.Maybe she could blame therush of questions. She’dasked. He’d answered. Somedeep part of her wanted toknow.“Haveyou?”He leaned in,

elbows braced on the table.“Come on now, Ms. Morris.Fair’sfair.”“I’ll answer if you do.

Truthfully.”“Nope.Neverbeen.”“Meneither.”The world tilted at the

edges as they stared eachotherdown.Heathercouldn’tbreathe. She might as wellhave been under a dozenspotlights for how little shecould hide. The scariest partwas that he wasn’t holdingback either. For a fewseconds over red baskets ofcoldfries,theytoldthetruth.

She’d never been morescaredormorethrilled.Which meant their quick

snap back toward the statusquo was as inevitable as itwas confusing. Justwhat thehell did she want? Jongrinned,sofilthyandreadytoplay again. Heather laughedunder her breath andsmoothed her hair. Likeretreatingtocorners.“Have you ever…?” She

swallowedchocolatemalt.

“Go for it. The last onedidn’tdetonatethebuilding.”She exhaled, shoving

questionsaboutloveasideforonesaboutsex.Blatant,hard,uncompromisingsex.“Have you ever been on

the receiving end of an analplug?”Jonliftedoneeyebrowina

higharch.“Well,well.”With her voice

intentionally breathless withexcitement, she asked,

“Oooh,didIgetyouagain?”“Youdid.Whatbringsthis

up?”Heather shrugged as

casuallyasshecouldmanage.The interest in his eyes waschippingawayat theirearliercalm. She wanted this now.Howkinkywashewilling toplay?“Just a question, flyboy.

Likealltheothers.”“No,” he said at last, the

worddrawnout.

“Intriguing. So, does somedeep,dark,unexploredpartofyour perverted psyche wanttobeexplored?”Jon patted the bench next

to him. “Come here and askmewhatyoureallywant.”Standing felt…liberating.

They were going to bloweach other’s minds. Again.This time it was her idea.Why was that even moreimportant than what theyeventuallydid?

She slid easily into thebooth, then crossed her legsso that her thighdrapedoverhis. Again, jeans rubbedagainst bare skin. Her wispycrepe skirt rode up. Jonwasted no time in giving itanother shove. His fingers,hiding beneath the palefabric, traced the lace of herpanties.Heather nuzzled until her

lips grazed his jaw. Abeautiful tension hummed

from his body. She touchedhimbehindtheneckasshe’dimagined.Bristling hair gaveherathrill.Allthisandmoretocome.“Iwant to know if you’ve

ever participated in a sexualencounter where you knewgoing in that you weren’t incontrol.” She lowered hervoice. “Have you ever beendominated,flyboy?”His fingertips dug into her

ass.“No.”

“Not so coy now.” Shenibbledhisearlobe.“BecauseI would enjoy trying. I’venever had that power before.Girlstendtobetheoneswiththeir arms tied, bent over achair.”“Oh, but you looked so

pretty.”“Tell me, Jon,” she

whispered. “The safe wordstill applies. And you candictate terms. But thequestion remains. Will you

give me your body tonight?TodowithasIplease?”

ChapterTwenty-Six

Since they’d both arrivedseparately at the diner, theymet back atHeather’s house.Jon could have beaten herthere.Easily.Notonlydidhehave the faster car, he wasdrivenbyaridiculousamountof curiosity. And nerves. Hecould admit to some nerves.

He’d never willingly puthimself at someone else’ssexualwhim.Hewasn’tsure ifhehadit

in himself to just…lie there.Seemedunlikely.But he kept his foot chill

on the gas pedal and didn’tzoom past her tin can. Heeven managed to keephimself in check as sheopenedherfrontdoor.Hethoughttheymightchat

first,maybehangout.Havea

drink. But Heather skippedrightpasthertidylivingroomand small kitchen, headingdirectlytowardthebedroom.He’d seen it before, but

generally when it was darkand Heather had worked herhand down his pants. Theyhadn’t bothered withtrivialities such as lightswitches.The bedroom was fairly

big considering her smallbungalow. The furniture was

allpaleoak,andthebedwascovered with a lace-trimmedafghan.The lackof frou-froupillows or cutesy accessoriesstruck a balance betweenfeminineandcomfortable.She walked to her vanity,

though she didn’t sit. Amirror with a lacquer framereflected how she watchedhimwhilesheunhookedlongsilver earrings. “Nervous,Captain?”He crossed his arms and

leaned against the doorjamb.“More like wondering howyou plan to do this,considering your bed has noposters.”“Hmm. A one-piece

headboardtoo.”Herhairwaspinnedathernape.Shedrewlonghairpinsoutonebyone.The tiny plink of metaldroppingintoaglassdishwastheonlysoundintheroom.Adark fall of silk spilled overher shoulders. “You don’t

thinkyoucanholdstill?”“Probablynot.”Sheturnedandfocusedher

gazeonhim, likeapalebluelaser. Her steps were slow.Luscious hips swung in agrind that reminded him ofsex. Naturally. She meant itto.On a deep breath, she

grazed his T-shirt with herbreasts. Her mouth hoverednear his, even as she dippedher chin to look at him

through her lashes. “Are yousure, Jon? If I asked you to?Without bindings orrestraints.Just…wait.Forme.AndwhatIdotoyou.”She certainly made him

want to try. His handsreached for her hips as if ontheir own. He needed herflesh, needed her heat. Softmaterial slinked under histouch.Hedraggeditupafewinches, the better to see herlushthighs.

“Maybe.”“Do it,” she said, low and

certain.His gaze snapped up to

hers.Somuchchallenge.Sheseemedtoexpecthimtobalk.To quit. “You can be morespecificthanthat.”Her brows lifted and that

sharpchincamebackup.Hermouth tweaked into a tinysmile. “Jon Carlisle, take offevery scrap of your clothing,includingbootsandsocks.”

“I’d never leavemy sockson.Thatwouldbeatravesty.”She managed to get her

smile under control behind atiny cough. “Do it slowly.Thenliedownonthebed,onyour back, with your handslacedbehindyourhead.”“But how will I touch

you?”“God,you’remouthy.”“I’mpretty sure it’s inmy

breeding.”“Lotsof thingsare inyour

breeding.” She backed upuntil she stood in themiddleof the floor. He might havebelieved shewas takingwellto this idea, except her toescurled into the weave of athick rug. Practicallytwitching. But her voicewasstillsteady.“Doit.”“You’re not even going to

dim the lights for mymodesty?”“Nope.”Flight jacket first, shucked

down his shoulders andtossed over the back of hervanity chair. He kept hismovementsslowashepulledtheT-shirtoverhishead,buthedidn’t addany sillybumpor grind. That would bebeneath them both. More, itmight scatter the slow heatthat had built since leavingthediner.He toed off his boots and

socks while he folded theshirt and set it down on the

seat of the vanity chair. Hefoundhersmirking.“YoufoldT-shirts?”“Youdon’t?”She twirled her fingers for

himtogetonwith it,buthergazewenttohisstomachfirstthen skipped over hisshoulders.Hisarms.Shewaseatinghimupwitheveryinchofskinrevealed.Maybe thiswouldn’tbeso

badafterall.The jeans went next—and

yes, he folded those too,lifting his brows at her inchallenge.But shedidn’t saya word. She was smoothingher own hips, so obviouslyrestless. When Jon pulleddown his boxer briefs, herbreathhitched.Thesheetswerecoolunder

hisass,hisback.It was harder than he’d

expected to stack his handsbehindhishead.Hismusclesprotested. His respiration

jacked. He bit the tip of histongue.Most of the time, control

didn’t seem like such a bigthing. Untouchable andephemeral. He’d never madeany bones about how muchhe liked it. There wassomething to be said for awomanwho’dchallengehim.That had been Heather fromthestart.Hehadnoideawherethey

were headed. Maybe

nowhere.Tonightatthedinerhad almost been enough tospark impossible thoughts,but then she’d corralled himbackintoherbedroom.Allina neat line. She liked order.Helikedithimself.Contemplating more was

no good for either of them.Just this. Just this fierce,explosive moment ofpotential.Sohewaited,buthedidn’t

dosocomfortably.Hefigured

the odds were fifty-fiftywhether he broke andtumbledher over.He’dwindupfuckingherratherthantheotherwayaround.She’dneedtobreakoutsomerestraintstohaveitanyotherway.When Heather opened a

drawer and pulled out a silkscarf, he thought she mighthavefiguredthatout.Herlipsparted. Her gorgeous chestroseandfellondeepbreaths.Apparently she liked what

shesaw.Score one for his ego, at

least.Butasshecamecloser,she

narrowed the scarf into aslender strip. “Lift yourhead.”“Hang on now,” he found

himselfsaying.Her smile turned wicked.

“Don’t tell me the great JonCarlisleisgoingtosafewordbecauseofasimpleblindfold.Areyouafraidofthedark?”

“Mostly afraid Iwon’t gettoseeyourbody.”“You’ve seen my body

before.”“I happen to like it.” He

tookonehandfromunderhisneck and slid it inside herthigh. The side of his palmgrazed her panties. Hotalready.Damp.Hegotsucharushoffthatsimpletell.Anything was worth it if

Heathergotoff.She tilted her head.

Another dare. He expectednothing less from her. Shestripped efficiently, thoughshe didn’t fold her clothes.Rather, she let them puddleonthefloor.Jesus,he lovedhercurves.

The neat sweep of herwaist.Hipsdesignedtobeheld.Theweightofherbreastsandherroundedshoulders.Allgentle.Madeforfuckingandbearinga man’s weight. She left onher satin thong and bra,

which cupped those parts hemostwantedtotouch.The dark descended when

she wrapped the makeshiftblindfold over his eyes. Thescarf was light purple silk,butitblockedouteverything.Hewasleftinblackness.His other senses roared to

life. Smell brought himHeather’s sultry scent. Hishearingcaughttherushofhisjerkypulse.AndHeathertoo,everyrustleofclothinganda

tinywhimper.“Are you touching

yourself,Heatherlove?”Themattress dipped along

hissideassheedgedontothebed. “Wouldn’t you like toknow?”“Fuck yes, I would.” He

baredhisteeth.Couldn’thelpit.Heshifted.Thesheetswere

warming, sliding against hisbackandass.Hislefthislegsflaton themattress.Allhers.

Playground. He had to keephimself calm but he wasrapidly losing control of hiscock, which lifted from hisstomach.WantingHeather.Her touch came from out

of nowhere. She skimmedtwo fingertips along hisbottom lip. He jerked. Helicked and instantlyrecognized her taste. Slightlysalty.Alittlebitofsweetness.He followed her fingers. Histongue curled around her,

tookherintohismouth.Moreofthattaste.“Ride my face,” he

growled.“I’minchargehere.”Heunfurledoneofhisbest

smiles, ignoring the fact hewas starkers and splayed outfor her whims. “Are youreallygoingtotrytoconvinceme that it wasn’t what youwanted?”“Maybe.”He shuthismouth.Had to

let her make up her ownmind. But when the bedshifted and her knees restedabovehisshoulders,hardandfast triumphrockeddownhisbody.Evenbetterthanflying.Coolhandsfoundpurchase

on his chest as she turnedaway from his face. Herfingers splayedwide and leftawashofsensationacrosshisskin. She didn’t lower herbody to his mouth. Not yet.Shewas close. He could tell

by the weight to the air, thestrengthofheraroma.Hecouldn’thelpbutfillhis

palmswithherthighs.She pinched his nipples,

fast and mean. “I didn’t tellyoutomove.”Heskimmedhisfingersup,

higher,tothebottomcurveofher ass. He liked exploringherbytouchalone.Shewasamiracle of curves andhollows. The satin skinbetween her cheeks

welcomed the tips of histhumbs. “You’re not tellingmetostop,either.”He tugged her down.

Gently, but inexorably, hetilted her hips for betteraccess.Heopenedhismouthover

her pussy and licked. Shetastedalmost toogood.Wentrighttohishead.Afewmoreflicksandhedelvedbetweenher damp lips. A flood ofmoisture was his reward.

Sucking her skin left hershakingunderhisgrip.Therewasnothingbetter.Hermoandrovehimcrazy.

He lifted his face closer. Heneeded all of her, every bit,until she melted. Until shespread her knees and groundherpussyagainsthismouth.Hekepthismouthfirmand

addedaslightedgeofteeth—a kiss of hurt to balance allthesoftness.More. Closer. He could

feel when she was almostthere, another wash of hertaste across his tongue. Sogood.He followed every bit,every drop. Took it all intohimself.He flattened his tongue

over her clit and stroked.Relentless. Her shakes toldhim shewas on the verge ofcoming.So soon.Henudgedher along with a couplefingersstrokingdeepintohersheath.Allslow.Theupward

angle made it awkward, butJesus,soworthit.Especiallywhen she broke

apart in orgasm. Quiet,breathy moans filled the air.She curled over his body,scratching his torso. All butlost. Her hot breathpracticallyburnedhim.Onthelaughthatrosefrom

hisdepths,herealizedhewasactually giddy. They did thistoeachother.Heather curled along his

side, but he could tell fromthe beat thrumming throughherlaxbodythattheyweren’tdone. Not yet. Her handsstartedroaming.Thank God, because if he

didn’tcomesoon…That unexpected rush of

happiness might start himthinkingaboutthingsbestleftalone.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

“Do toys insult yourmanhood?”“Toys are for play and

having fun,” Jon said with asmile. “Are you having fun,Heatherlove?”“Oh, yes.” She leaned in

andlickedhisjaw,hismouth,his cheeks. He was stubbly

and tasted of her. The groanthat rumbled through hischest spoke of both arousaland satisfaction. She adoredhow much pride he took inensuring she was satisfied—almost as if his pleasurewould always be secondary.Nomatterhowmuchhetook,he always held back. Hemade sure she writhed andgasped before demanding histurn.Only now, he was in no

position to demand anything.Technically.She traced a finger

betweenhispecs,throughtheline of hair below his navel.He took in a sharp breathwhen she stopped just shortof the base of his cock.“You’re not really good atthis submission thing, areyou?”“No.”“At least you’re not coy

aboutit.”

“Neverlie,remember?”“Then tell me what you

want.Rightnow.”Twin dimples peeked out.

“To flip you on your backandfuckyou.Iwouldn’tcareifyoucamenow.You’vehadyour chance.Would takemeabout…oh,twelvestrokes.”“I’m nearly tempted to let

you,justtocheckyourmath.”Restless male hands kept

touching what he couldn’tsee. “I’m good with

numbers.”“So I’ve heard. But no.”

She flicked her tongue intothe hollow at the base of histhroat.Thereward,eachtime,washissurprisedresponse—ajerk or a quiet hiss. “That’snotwhatwillhappen.Backtotoys.”“Toysarefine.”“Pain?”He hesitated. Swallowed.

Oh,shefuckinglovedthat.“Sure. But what if I said

the lack of control wasactually killing my goodtime?”Heather laughed, gratified

when he joined in.His chestheaved on it, and his wholeface shaped around a smile.Combined with hisbeautifullymuscledbody,thepurple silk blindfold and hisfresh-from-juvie buzz cut, hewas an exotic amusementpark.Allhers.Shefinallytookholdofhis

prick. His lean hips buckedsoftlybetweenherhands.“I’dsay you were a lyingbastard.”“Oh, come now. My

parents are unpleasant, but Iwasbornlegitimately.”“Do I really give a shit

rightnow,CaptainCarlisle?”Another smile. “No,

ma’am. Proceed, ma’am.”Shegavethetipofhispenisahardpinch.“Ow!Fuckoff!”“Mind yourmanners,” she

said, bending over to lick itbetter.Hereachedouttoholdthebackofherhead,butshepushed his arms away.“Remember who’s in chargeand you’ll come inspectacularfashion.”“So full of yourself, Ms.

Morris.”“And you thought me,

what was it? Tame?Predictable?”“Have you always had

suchagoodmemory,orhave

Ibeeninwillfuldenial?”“ShutupsoIcansuckyour

cockinpeace.”She tookhis hard, swollen

head between her lips andsucked, just as shehadwhenteasinghimwith thestrawinthe diner. Roughly. She’dswallow him like amilkshake.Afterpoppingoffhishead

and giving it anotherlingering, appreciative lick,she said, “And if you touch

me,anywhere, I stop.Got it?Sohandsup,flyboy.”Again, that hesitation.

Slowly, so slowly, heexhaled. Even his facerelaxed. He lifted his armsabove his head and wrappedthem around a pillow. Thepose stretched his lithemuscles and showed off thepure masculinity of his lats,his ribs, theway themusclesofhisarmsfoldedagainsthisshoulders.He turnedhis face

toward the pillow, whichaccentuatedthetendonsalonghis throat. He swallowedthickly.Asmallnod.God, she was taming a

wild mustang. She wasgettingwetalloveragain.Heather returned to his

prick, which surged beneaththe first touch of her tongue.She ringed both hands at itsthick base and pressed hard.He grunted. She wanted toholdoffthepromisedorgasm

foraslongaspossible.She’dheardofedgingaman.Ithadalways struck her as…cruel?Whywouldshewanttodrawitoutsolong?Now the answer was

fabulously obvious: to makehimsufferinthebestpossibleway.By turns aggressive and

soft,shefuckedhimwithhermouth.Itwasn’tmakinglove,orteasing,orplaytime.Itwasfull-on fucking. Fast, then

slow and torturous. Sheflicked her tongue, suckedhard, stroked him withoutmercy, then trailed her hairfrom chest to knees. Jontwitched and made the mostdelicious noises with everyswitch. She looked up at theway he fought his body’simpulses.Hishandsclenchedandreleasedthepillowsham.Ropes ofmuscles popped onhis forearms and frustratedfists.

“You’re enjoying this,” herasped.“Yes. Are you?” She

suckled his head and flickedhertonguealongthesensitiveridge just beneath. “No lies,remember?”Alongexhalation.“Yes.”Win.Win.Win.She barely contained the

bubbles in her blood. Kneesclampedtogether,shestrokedhim as if in reward for hishonesty.Thenshebackedoff.

Again and again, she tookhimtotheedgeandkepthimfrom flying over. Afterexquisiteminutesofwatchinghim writhe beneath herdeliberate torture,sheput thefull force of her mouth andhandsintomakinghimcome.Butnotreally.When he bucked his

powerful hips off the bed,really fucking her claspedhands—that’s when shepulled away. His solid prick

thumped onto his flat bellyandarrowedtowardhisnavel.Hishipsjerkedtoastop.Jon actually yanked down

thescarf.Inhiseyesblazedadecadent combination ofarousal, surprise and a tinysnapofanger.“Whatthehell,Heather?”“Shut up and turn on your

side.”“Bullshit.”She lifted her brows.

“Really? I thought you were

up for more than this. I canclimbonandget itoverwithif youwant. Pandas are verypretty,afterall.Wecouldtalkabout them.” With thehaughtiest expression shecouldmuster, she stared himdown. The anger was gone.Sowas the surprise.Abattleremained,somefightbetweenhiscuriosityandhisneedforcontrol.“Butifyoudecidetokeepgoing,don’tstopagain.”“Ah, fuck it,” he said at

last.Heslumpedbackagainstthe bed. Another full-bodiedlaugh.Heather’sheartflippedover.“Mightaswell.Makeitgood,Heatherlove.”“Spectacular.Ipromise.”He tucked the scarf back

overhiseyes.“Bringit.”“Mmm,Ilovethesoundof

that. Now hold still. I’ll berightback.”“Heather?”“Toys, remember? Relax.

You’realittletense.”

That big, beautiful grin.His eyebrows were soanimated that theypokedoutabovetheblindfold.“Canyoublameme?”Heatheropenedadrawerin

her nightstand and grabbedwhat shewas after. “Nope. Iseemtorememberhavingmyarms tied behind my back,pressed against a hotel-roomwindow.”“Thatwasquiteasight.”“Consider yourself lucky

I’m not telling you to dothat.”“Hah.Wouldn’thappen.”She grinned, leaned over,

kissed his stomach. Musclesflinched under her lips. “Soyou think. Now, on yourside.”Jon turned away fromher.

She stopped to admire thelonglineofhisspineandthebunchedmusclesofhisupperback. His ass was a work ofart. Taut. Pure power. No

wonder his hips were soamazingwhenhefuckedher.She nudged his top leg

forward, half pushing himtowardthebed.Herprizewasthewayhisasscheeksparted.Heather trailed her nails upthe inside of his lower thigh,again,again.Thensheusedasmall black comb andrepeated the gesture. Eachpass harder, until red streakscolored his skin and Jonshuddered on a long, low

moan.Shegavehisassaslap,whichwaslouderthanitwaspowerful.“Again,”hegasped.Instead of chastising him

fortheslipup,shedidexactlyastheybothwanted.Itwasn’tinflictingpain.AndforJon,itprobably wasn’t receiving it.No, the thrill was in thepower. Giving and taking.That flow passed betweenthem without choreography,but always with the results

theybothsought.Soon her hand stung and

Jon’sasswascoveredwithawash of pink. Sweat slickedthem both. Heather shed herbra. She stretched along hisback and pressed her dampbreasts against him. Hebreathedashardasshedid.“Good,”shewhispered.“Yes.”“That wasn’t a question,

flyboy.Itwaspraise.”“Fuck,you’recruel.”

“Not yet.” She reachedbehind her on the bed andgrabbed her bottle of lube.Two fingers. The slightesttouch of chilly and slick.“Holdstill.”“Thatwasthedeal,right?”She smiled against his

spine and licked his sweat.“Yes, it was.” Then shetouched her fingers betweenhis ass cheeks. Slid.Massaged. Teased. She hadno idea what she was doing,

but her pussy didn’t seem tocare.Absolutelydrenched.Whenthatlean,tensebody

relaxed against hers,Heatherstarted the real test. Shenudgedthetipofabulletviberight against his anus. Heflinched. His ass clenchedtight.“Nope.Relax.”“Heather…”Hernamewas

adeepgrowl.“Call panda and I win. I

knowyouwon’t.”

“Thendoit.”The vibe slid in more

easily than she’d anticipated.Hewasenjoyingthisahellofa lot more than he mightadmit.Soreadyforthatslightinvasion. Heather turned thetoy’s cap until vibrationbuzzedbetweenthem.Jongroanedandpushedhis

foreheadintothepillow.“Ah.Shit.”“Good? And that was a

question.”

“Good,” he gasped as shepusheddeeper.Soon she had a rhythm

going. Gentle. Slow. Sheadded more lube, thendeepenedeachpush.Thevibewas small, only about threeinches. But it must’ve felthuge inside him—a manwho’d never submitted toanythingofthekind.“Normally I keep this in

my purse,” she whisperedagainsthisnape. Just enough

space between their lowerbodies to permit room toplay. “I use it in the privatebathroom at work when theday’sbeentoocrazy.WhenIneed a release.” He gruntedan unintelligible curse.“More,flyboy?”“More.”“TalktomeinFrench.”He complied instantly.

Hell,shedidn’tknowwhatitmeant,butshecouldguessbythe hard-edged growl in his

voicethatitwasmean,filthy,even threatening. She shiftedher thighs against a suddenrush.Yes,hewouldgetbackatherfor this.Shewantedit.Each word softened hermuscles into arousedlassitude. All except for herrightarm.Sheturnedthevibeon high and kept up astrengthening pace. He wasthrusting back now, meetinghereachtime.Shepausedonlyamoment

to press a condom in hishand.“On.”Smiling, she’d never seen

him so graceless.His fingersshook as he rolled the latexover his rock-hard prick.Christ, he was huge.Throbbing. She ground herpalm against the flared baseof the vibe, seating it thereniceandtight.“Uh,”hemoaned.“Not so articulate now.”

She sat up. “It’s the magic

recipe for silencing JonCarlisle’sclevertongue.”“You’re gonna get yours,

Ms.Morris.”“Clinging to that thought,

aren’tyou?”“Hell,yes.”“I’mgladwe’restillonthe

same page.Now.Come fuckme.”Jonhadheronherbackso

fast the room spun. Hepushed into her withoutfinesse. Just hard power.

Blindfold stripped, his facewasamassofcontradictions.Pretty-boy features.Determination and fiercepassion. He hooked hisforearm beneath her knee,opening her wide. He wasbrutal. Each slam shotthrough her body until hereyesrolledback.“What happened,” she

gasped,“totwelvestrokes?”“Gonnamake you scream.

Needmorethantwelve.”

“This was for me,remember?”“Enoughofthatshit.”“Noway.Iwantonemore

thingfromyou.Thenyoucanspend the rest of the nightpayingmeback.”Shearchedforwardandpushed thevibe,making sure it still workedinside him. “Take me. Onehundred percent greedyfucking. You’ve got thisfabulous tickle buzzing yourasshole.You’ve gotmy cunt

andmytitsrightherebeneathyou.Take,Jon.Justtake.”Hismouthpartedonadirty

smile—thenitwasgone.Thelast semblance of Jon. Hegrabbed her arms and tossedthem above her head,catching both wrists in onehand.Oh,holydamn.Heheldnothing back. Every pulseandthrustshowedonhisfaceaspure,furiousgreed.“Mine,” he rasped against

herneck.“Fuckinghell.”

Soclose.Andnowshewasso close. Heather met eachthrust. She fought his hold,buthewasabeastunleashed.“Wait.”Her voicewas a drywhisper.“Jon,God.No.Waitforme.”Butitwastoolate.Hecame.Exploded,really.

Fierce. Gorgeous. A shudderclimbed up and down hisspine, with one last slowgrind and a string of Frenchcurses.

Just as Heather hadwanted,hepulledbackbeforeshe found her release. Shecriedoutatthesuddenlossofhis cock. Curling onto herside, she couldn’t help ashiver of frustration thattraipsed between pain andpleasure.Vibe removed, condom

gone, he knelt above whereshe lay stretched, sweatyandpractically moaning for herrelease.

“You told me to begreedy.” His chest stillheaved. No sense of balanceor calm had returned to hiseyes. A man possessed.Blasted and liberated. “Icompliedtotheletter.”“Youlovedit.”“I did. As good as you

promised.”Heslidhisfingersbetween her pussy lips andflickedherclit.Shecriedout.Sosensitive.Soclose.“Jon,please.”

“Oh, yes, Heather love.One spectacular orgasm,comingup.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Two Thursdays later, Jonlounged against the wall ofthevisitor’scenteratthefrontgate of Nellis. The thickmaterial of his flight suitprotected his back—and thescratches Heather hadinflicted—from the roughstucco, but only intensified

the afternoon’s swelteringheat.Sweatdrippeddownhisneck. Sunglasses shaded hiseyes from the glaringsunlight.Itdidn’thelphismoodthat

he’dbeenupsincefour.He’dplannedonano-stressdayofmaintenance and classes.That itinerary had beenpostponed in favor of morehoursintheairwithavisitingsquadron of Marines. As anextra specialbonus,he’dhad

thepleasureofanotherrun-inwithDonaghue.The dickweed who was

supposedtobeonJon’sside.Residual tension from that

encounter turned his neckinto a bar of steel. Hechecked his watch, botheredmore than he’d like to admitthat she was late. Only by afew minutes, but the delaymadehimwant tobounceonthe balls of his feet, as if hewere the sort to give in to

overeagerdisplays.Instead he crossed his

arms.BythetimeHeatherpulled

intothelot,hewaschompingatthebit.Noneofitmadesense.So,

she wanted to see his plane.No big deal. She wasn’t theonly woman he’d been withwhogotoffonthefactthathewas a fighter pilot. He’dlearned early that mostwomendid.

Shelookedincredibleashesigned her into base. Herblouse was a rich peach silkwith a mandarin collar. Joncouldn’t look at it withoutremembering she’d worn ittheMondayafterhestrangle-fucked her. Spike-heeledshoes brought her to hisheight. A demure tailoredskirtclungtoherfullhips.“Hey,”shesaidshyly.“Hey,yourself.”She kept up a light stream

of chatter as he ran herthrough security and thendrove her over to the 64thSquadron’s headquarters—observations about the base,mentionsofaprojectatwork.Jon wanted to be able tomatchher,buthehadnothingother than nerves. He couldalmost feel the defensivereflex as he dropped into hispersonaofcool.“It’salmostthesameasmy

dad’s posts,” she said,lookingoutthewindowofthecar.“Exceptfortheplanes.”“Some things never

change.”She laughed as he pulled

into the parking lot. Hehelped her out of the low-slung Aston. The blackbusiness skirt flashed a nicelength of thigh as sheswiveledandstood.Sincetheparking lot was half-empty,with most people gone early

as repayment for havingcome in at o’dark thirty, heriskedafast,hardkiss.If he could change one

thing about their quasi-relationship,he’dtakedownafew more of their strangelywalled-offborders.With sex,it wasn’t a problem. Thesequietermoments…But the words had come

from his own mouth: somethingsneverchange.Ignoring the cranked-up

feelingthatclimbedhisspine,he laced his fingers throughhers. No one lingered to getonhimabout public displaysof affection. That PrincessLeah had popped smoke andleftearlywasnosurprise,buteven Major Fang, normallythe last one out, had headedhometoCass.PartofJonwantedtoshow

Heatheroff—again,ashehadat the club. He’d known shewould look slick and put

together. Class personified.But it was probably for thebest that shedidn’t see thosetwoknuckleheadsafteralongday. Ryan, of all people,would take one look at himand know he was losing hisfooting,thatHeathertiedhiminknots.They walked across the

streetandaround thebackofa huge hangar to where theranks of jets lined up likesoldiers.Mean,angry-looking

soldiers painted in gray anddesertbrowncamo.Heather drew to a halt.

“Wow,”shebreathed.“Are you finally

impressed?”She laughed. It made her

blue eyes shine. “Yes. I’mimpressed. Are you happynow?”Hewrappedanarmaround

her waist and brushed kissesover her neck, tipped histongue into the soft divot

behindherear.“Sosorry,”drawledavoice

laced with attitude. “Didn’tmeantointerrupt.”Heather practically flew

out of his arms. Bright pinkflushed her cheeks. Jonsnapped ramrod straight. Heknewthatvoice—thatbrassy,crass jerkwad had been hisbanesinceshowingup in theunit.Hearingitafterbriefingsmadehimwant tohurl sharpthingsagainstwalls.

“Captain Donaghue,” hesaid, pivoting on his heel.“What are you doing here?Everyone’s done for theday,and we both know it’s notlike you to put in extra timebrushingup.”Even though he spoke to

Jon, the pilot aimed hissmarmy smile straight atHeather. “I was just lookingforMajorHaverty.Wantedtoaskhimsomething.”“He left.” Jon’s reply was

clippedandformal.Confusion turned down

Heather’s mouth. Jon hadnever let her see him soovertly irritated. Even at thecountryclubhe’dmaintainedacertaindisdainfulcool.Thiswas stronger. More potent.Kisser didn’t deservemanners beyond what themilitarydictated.Donaghue had pushed the

limits of his fuel supplyduring sorties that morning.

He’d flown too fucking long—alltogetinjustanotherhit.He’dcrashsomeday,orgetabuddy shot down—one whowasonlytryingtostayonhiswing. That sort of asshatbehavior was deplorable,especially when it put themembers of the 64th at risk.They were a teachingsquadron,forfuck’ssake.“That’s fine,” Donaghue

said. “I’ll find him in the

morning.”Hethoughthewashot shit, in and out of thecockpit. Incredibly tacky.Crass.Tryingtoohardtohidethe chip on his shoulder. Heeyed Heather again. “Like Isaid, ma’am, sorry tointerrupt.”Her smile made the skin

slither along Jon’s nape.“Please don’t troubleyourself,”shesaid.“Itwasnobigdeal.”Itwasnobigdeal.

She’d vaulted out of hisarms,butitwasnobigdeal.ThefurtherJonpushed,the

moreshewithdrew.Hecouldgive her orgasms that rockedherworldandletherpushhisboundariesjustasmuchashepushedher.Goddamn.Thatoughttobe

enough.After Donaghue left, Jon

triedtoregroup.“Wherewerewe?”Shewiggledawayfromhis

handsandsteppedtowardthelines of planes. “You weregoing to show me which oftheseisyours.”He led her to the one

stenciled with Capt. JonCarlisle below the cockpit’sseam.“Thisone.”She folded her hands

behindthesweetswellofherass.“I like it. It looks…cold.Cruel.Exactlyhowit’smeantto,I’msure.”He stepped up behind her,

cupping her upper arms.“That’sagoodway toput it.Doyouwanttolookinside?”“Noway.Howmuchdoes

itcost?”“Almostthirtymillion.”“There’s no way I’m

touchingit.Notatall.”Hecouldn’thelpbutlaugh.

“Heather, it’sawarmachine.ItgoesMachtwopointfiveifpushed hard enough. I doubtyoucouldhurtit.”She curled her hands back

around his thighs. “Doesn’tmatter.I’mnotriskingit.”“Thenwhydidyouwantto

seeitatall?”“So I could picture you in

it.”Hervoicehaddroppedtoa husky murmur. The looksheslantedhimwaspuresex.“When I play with myself,aloneinmybed.”Hedroppedhisforeheadto

her nape. Her soft hairbrushed his cheek. The wayshe intentionally turned him

inside out was nothing shortofevil.“We’regettingoutofhere.Now.”“Leadtheway,flyboy.”He wanted nothing more

than to speed right out ofthere. But he had to grab aflightmanual from theofficehe shared with Leah. Heneeded to brush up on twosections before morning.Check his stats against theoriginalschematics.Baddatameant bad results, and he

wasn’t going to beresponsibleforeither.HeleftHeatherinthemain

entrance to the squadron’sheadquartersbuilding.“I’ll be right back,” he

said,brushingakissoverherdelicatetemple.“Don’tbetoolong.”Hewasn’t. In andout in a

second, with the paperprintoutof themanual inonehand. Heather had alreadyfoundthecorkboardplastered

over with regulations, safetyoffice posters and a fewPowerPoint printouts. Theone she focused on wasprinted on lemon-yellowpaper with tacky clip art oneverycorner.“What’sthis?”sheasked.Jonscratchedthetopofhis

head. His trim was gettingfuzzy. He’d need to have itshaved soon. “The Nellis-CreechAirForceBall.It’sanannualevent.”

“Areyougoing?”“Yeah. I have to make an

appearance.Oneofthedutiesofbeinganofficer:puttingupwithprotocol.”“Youdidn’tmentionit.”“I didn’t think you’d be

interested. It’s a lot ofspeeches,overcookedchickenand a DJ who’s usually halfin the bag by the time hestartsthemusic.Lastyearwehadaventriloquist.Purejoy.”She stepped near enough

that the peach silk of herblousebrushedhisolivedrabflight suit—an arousingcontrast. Looking up at him,sheplumpedhermouthintoapout. It was obviouslyfeignedbutnolesseffective.“I’veneverbeentoaball.”“I didn’t know that.”

Really, he was enjoyingwatching her squirm. It waspetty as hell, and heparticularly liked it afterseeinghersmileatDonaghue.

She trailed a finger downthe front placket of hisuniform. “Might beinteresting. Just for a lark. IsthatCaptainDonaghuegoingtobethere?”Fuckinghell,no.Justno.BloodfrozeinJon’sveins.

He locked down hisexpression. A sharp bite ofangerclawedathisneck.Thethought of Heather eventalking to that asshole,muchless dancing with him or

sharing a drink, pissed himoffbeyondbelief.“Hey,” Heather said, her

voice soft.Shecurledahandaround the nape of his neck,rubbing her thumb over thegranitemuscle inhis jaw.“Itwasajoke.Abadone.”Heforcedasmile.Thatshe

wrappedherarmsaroundhismiddle slid tension outthroughhisboots.“Donaghueand I have been having aproblem lately. He’s…

dangerous. In the sky, Imean.”“Then I’m sorry I teased

you about him.” Her lashesdropped, shielding her palegaze.“Imeanit.”“It’s all right.” No one

wouldmisstheoff-kiltertoneofhisvoice.Hetookabreathasslowlyashecouldwithoutmaking his anxietyridiculouslyobvious.“Wouldyou like to go with me? Totheball?It’saformalevent.”

“Does thatmeanI’dget tosee you in your dressuniform?”A laugh amped from his

chest. He’d worn finelytailored suits almost everytimehe’dseenher,andshe’dappreciatedthem.Avidly.Butit was the prospect of hisdressuniformthatputagirlygiggleinhervoice.“Ofcourse.”Stretching up on her toes,

she brushed a kiss across his

cheek.Sheslidherhandfromhis nape to his crown, herfingers spread wide. “ThenI’dlovetogo.”

ChapterTwenty-Nine

“Heather, you have to letme see,” Jenn called throughthedressing-roomdoor. “I’mnot here just to feed the kidsmall food and watch themplay hide-and-seek in theclothesracks.”Lips tightly pressed,

Heatherforcedherselftolook

in the mirror. Simply awoman struggling into aformalgown.Nothingwrongthere.Thenwhy did it take such

aneffort?Oh, but she knew the

answer. Her shudder hadnothing to do with the A/Cblasting down from a ceilingvent.Thelasttimeshe’dgoneshopping for formalwear hadbeen with her mom. They’dfound just the right dress—

sexy enough for Heather’sseventeen-year-old taste andclassic enough for hermother.Theperfectgownfortheprom.The prom she hadn’t

attended.Why had she niggled Jon

aboutgoingtotheball?Theycould’ve booked a Bellagiosuite without forcing thenight tomean something.Oflate, everything they did hadtakenonthataddedweight.

Withahuffsheopenedthedressing-room door. “I needhelpwiththelaces.”Jenn sat on the waiting-

room bench amid a stack ofpackages,bagsand twokids’backpacks. They’d pickedEthan and Polly up frompreschool before heading outto the mall—the only wayJenn could swing a quickshopping trip.Heather didn’tcare. She needed a secondopinion.Shenolongertrusted

herown.“Well,Icanalreadytellthe

color’s gorgeous.” Nimbly,Jenn stepped over the clutterand tied up the silken cordsthat cinched the bodice. “Allset.Givemeaspin.”Heather stepped away and

turned. She swung the fullskirtintoplace.“Oh, wow. Like, a damn

sortofwow.”“You don’t think it’s too

poofy?”

Jennshookherhead. “Justthe right amount of poof.Hecouldfeelyouupatthetableandnoonewouldknow.”A blush singed Heather’s

cheeks—not because shewouldn’t consider such athing,butbecauseithadbeenher first idea upon spottingthe dress. “Be serious,” shemanaged.“Iam.Youlookfantastic.”Heather found her

reflectioninthewaiting-room

mirror. The corseted bodicehugged her rib cage, and theheart-shapednecklineshowedoff just enough skin. Blood-redtaffetaflaredoutfromherwaist,withahintofcrinolineunderneath to give it shape.She looked like a grown-upvixen version of a fairyprincess.“I’m thinking finger

waves,”shesaid.“Oh, yeah.Very peekaboo

glam.” Jenn had opened

Ethan’s Clone Wars lunchbag and was munchingleftover Goldfish, but hereyesremainedonHeather.“Ineverknewyouhada tattoo.It’sverycool.”Ajoltofpanicwasquickly

followed by disappointment.The cut of the gown’s backrevealed her tattoo, wherethat flowering vine peekedout from the taffeta andcurled over her shoulderblade.Onlyaboutfourinches

showed, but it was fourinches more than she everdisplayedinpublic.Damn. And the dress had

beensoright.“Maybe I’ll try on

another,”Heathersaid.Jenn shoved the empty

sandwichbaggieintoajacketpocket. “Don’t you dare. A,thatone’sperfect.B,thekidsare about to strip amannequin. Get dressed andI’ll treat you to the untold

luxuryofChuckE.Cheese.”“Jenn,Ican’t—”The confusion on Jenn’s

face asked a plain question.Whynot?“Forget it. I’ll go get

changed.”“Be quick.” Jenn’s head

whipped toward the waiting-room’s doorway. “EthanDouglasKimble!”Knees shaking, Heather

left her friend to avertcatastrophe and locked the

dressing-roomdoor.Sheeyedthetattooonemoretime.Shedidn’t regret it—far from it.But she had always intendedittobeprivate.Jon would probably make

it into a big deal, and whyshouldn’the?Shehad.She’dteased him with it andmadethe eventual reveal into asexual game. The symbolsand the sentiments she’dchosen for herself werealterednow.Memoriesofhis

fingers and lips tracing thatlonevineupherbodywouldbe with her as long as thetattoo.He was changing her.

Changingthem.She pulled the silk laces

until Jenn’s bow unraveled.The bodice eased away fromher torso. As she climbedback into her jeans and twinset,Heathermadeadecision.Jon could sexualize the hellout of her tattoo. Go right

ahead, flyboy. It was fareasier to dealwith his desirethan the way he’d been sopossessiveattheairbase.“Heather,comeon!”She left the other dresses

onarackandhurriedtomakeher purchase—before shechangedhermind.

Jon called when he wasfiveminutesfromherhouse.Almost unbearably

nervous,Heather smoothed ahand down the waves in herhair.Stopit.She grabbed her beaded

blacksilkclutchthenwiggledhertoesintopatenthighheelsthat barely poked out frombeneath the full skirt. Thethroaty purr of Jon’s Astonsentahotshiverdowntoherbelly. The only sexier soundwas when he whispered inFrench.

After locking the frontdoor, she turned. Andstopped.Captain Jonathan Carlisle

stoodatnear-attentionbesidehisoutrageoussportscar.HisgazedevouredherasHeatherabsorbed every detail of hisformaluniform.Afittedbluejacket like that of a tuxedolayered over a white dressshirt,accentedbyasatinbowtie and cummerbund inmatching Air Force blue.

Everywhere gleamed silveraccents:button,cufflinks, theepaulets perched on hisshoulders, and the braidcirclinghissleevecuffs.Unfamiliar medals and

ribbons adorned the leftbreast of his jacket, but thepilots’ wings wereunmistakable.Walking down the two

porch steps required steadypatience. Balance and gracehad deserted her. His eyes

still intense, his expressiontaut, he met her at thepassenger door. He placed alingering kiss on her bareshoulder. “Tu es parfait,” hewhispered. “Perfection,Heatherlove.”She sucked in a slow

breath. The bodice huggedher breasts, her rib cage, herwaist, denying the air sheneeded. “You’re not so badyourself, Captain. Verysnappy.”

Jon lifted his head. He’dbeen to the barber, his darkhair buzzed with expertprecision. “My Uncle Samtold me what to wear. It’smess dress, for black-tiefunctions.”“What does this one

mean?” she asked, touchingone of the medals pinned tohisjacket.“IraqiCampaign.”“Andthisone?”“Are you going to ask

aboutallofthem?”Shenodded,andhepointed

to several in turn.“Afghanistan, Air Medal,DistinguishedFlyingCross.”Soft pride filled Heather’s

chest, like trying to breathepast wads of warm cotton.More than that, the realityofhis dangerous life squeezeddown on her shoulders.Whywas she getting into his car?Welcoming him into herbody, time and again? He

wasn’tcalmorsafeorstable.Nothing about Jon Carlislewaswhat she’d imagined forapartner.But there theywere,going

toaball.“Soyou’renotjustapretty

face,flyboy?”“Pretty? I was hoping for

dashing.” He arched a browthen gestured to her waitingchariot.“Shallwe?”Heather made the trip to

the Bellagio in a daze. As

he’d been in the habit ofdoinglately,Jonputonmusic—this time “Mr. Brightside”by The Killers. She thoughthe did it on purpose, to fillthe air with sound. Theynever said much in the car.Nerves and sex and tensiongotthebetterofthem.After handing his black

beast over to the valet, Jonextended his arm. All soformal. All so cleanlypracticed.Butunderneath the

uniform she knew his body,his passions. That intimacyleft her dizzy and in need ofsolidfooting.“You won’t be looking so

wonder-struck when speechnumbereightgetsrolling,”hesaid.“By then I’ll be playing

withmyselfunderthetable.”His startled intake of

breathlitafireattheapexofher thighs. “You’re kidding,right?”

“Kidding.Sure.”With his hand locked

around her wrist, Jon tuggedher beyond the flow of foottraffic. “I’m not messingaroundhere,Heather.This ismyjob.”She shouldn’t have been

surprised by his intensity.Likely she’d have had thesame reaction if he proposedsex play among hercolleagues. But somethinghad switched over. This

seriousness was not whyshe’d first climbed into hisDBS. Deflecting bluntcomments about her bodywas far easier thanreconciling the startling,intense pride so plainlywritten on his youthfulfeatures.Shewantedthewallsback.

Thecompetition.“Makeitworthmywhile,”

she said. “I don’t know howlong I’ll be able to hold out

withyoudressedthisway.”He held her arms out to

each side, with the backs ofherwristsflushwiththewall.“What’s it going to take tokeep your hands out frombetween those gorgeousthighs,Ms.Morris?”“A promise for tonight.

AnythingIwant.Sexually.”“Again?”“I’magreedygirl.”“Noargumenthere.”“Do we have a deal,

flyboy?”“Youdriveahardbargain,

Ms.Morris.”“Nottrue.Youjustwantto

have it all—a perfectlyrespectable evening and aguaranteed good time.” Shepeeked up at him. “So,besides protecting your job,doyouhaveanyconditions?”“You’vealreadydoneyour

damnedesttounhingeme.It’syour turn to be undone, butyouchoosethemethod.”

“Hmmm. Agreed.Anythingelse?”“Other than condoms and

respecting the safe word?None.”She’dsaidthesametohim

while standingat the roulettetable, weeks ago. Smiling,shewhispered,“Letmethinkaboutit.”“Hey, Tin Tin. There you

are.”Jonsurreptitiouslyreleased

her hands. Smoothly he

turnedherawayfromthewallto greet a tall, handsomeofficerandhisdate.Themanwas G.I. Joe personified, allsturdy good looks, but hewore the mess uniform withsurprisinggrace.“Fang,” Jon said, “I’m

gonna bitch-slap you forwearingthat.ItoldyouIhaddibs.”Blue-blood suave layered

every move as he shookhands with the officer and

kissed the woman on thecheek. Heather couldn’t helpbutbe impressedbyhisslickrecovery.“Heather, this is my boss,

Major Ryan Haverty. HislovelyladyisCassWhitman,whowasjustpromotedattheHungerfordArtGallery.HowwasItaly?”“Gorgeous. Wonderful.”

The woman was almostpetite,withsilkyredhairanda cutely turned-up nose. She

wore a form-fitting blackcrepe dress that flaredplayfully just above herankles. “But you probablyalreadyknewthat.”Jon only shrugged, his

smilegentlyteasing.“Right,” came a woman’s

upbeatvoice.“Sowhere’stheparty?”“You don’t have a built-in

GPS for that, Princess?”Ryan’s expressionwasmockinnocent. She tossed him an

“eatme”look.“And you remember

Leah,” Jon added. “Alwaysdoing her best to make therest of us look likeschmucks.”Thewomanshrugged.“It’s

nothard.”Withhisthumbgrazingher

tattoo,Jonsaid,“Ryan,Cass,thisisHeatherMorris.”Heather smiled her way

through the introductions, alittle lost amid the dizzying

flurryof insults, in-jokesandnicknames.Thethreeofficerswere tight; that much wasobvious. Cass held her owntoo, but as they walkeddeeper into the Bellagio, shehungbackabit.“They can spin your head

when they launch into fulltrash-talkmode,” she said toHeather. “I still have to askwhat most of the acronymsmean.”“Mydadwas in theArmy

forages,buteachbranchissodifferent.”“God,I’mnervous.”Heathercastaquickglance

toward the shorter woman.“Really?Youdon’tlookit.”“Petrified.RyanandIhave

only been together sinceApril.ThisisthefirstbigAirForce thingywe’ve attended.I don’twant to screwup. SohowdoyouknowTinTin?”“Who?”“Jon.CaptainJon‘TinTin’

Carlisle.” She nudged herchintowardwherehewalkedahead. His fellow officersflanked him as closely asprisonguards.“That’shiscallsign. Ryan’s is Fang. Andthenthere’sPrincessLeah.”Heather couldn’t help a

chuckle.“Yeah, don’t let her hear

you laugh,” Cass said. “So,whatwereyousaying?AboutmeetingJon?”Smiling indulgently,

Heather knew she hadn’t yetbeen saying anything…andCass knew it too. Thewoman’smischievousairwashard to resist. “We, ah…wemet at a wine bar in lateJuly.”“They’re pumping him for

information, just so youknow.”“Were you sent to try

anotherangle?”Cass grinned. “Nothing so

devious. If I’mcuriousabout

you,I’llaskyoumyself.”“Thanks.”Jon dropped back as they

entered a massive ballroom.“Excuseus,Cass.”“No problem. Ryan

darling, don’t lose me. I’llnever find you in all theseblue penguin suits.” Only asshewalkedawaydidHeathernoticehowCass’shemnearlyobscured a fantastic pair ofCuban-heel seamedstockings.

The ballroom was a tidalwave of noise—conversations, clinkingglasses, laughter. Heatherestimated about a thousandpeople. Air Force blue waseverywhere. She reflexivelygrippedJon’sarm.“Canyougivemeahint?”

heasked,hisvoicesilken.“Hint?”“Of what we’re playing

for?I thought theapplicationof some sexual creativity

might take the edge off yourpanic.”“I’mnotpanicking.”“Ofcoursenot.”She wove around to join

the others at their designatedtable. Another round ofintroductions. She kept holdof Jon’s hand, even as theysat.“WhyTinTin?”sheasked

quietly.With the example ofPrincess Leah to draw from,she assumed it must be

derogatory. Something forpoking fun at one’s fightingbrothersandsisters.“IsitlikeRinTinTin,thedog?”“That’sright.”Jonkepthis

eyesaverted,his tonecasual,but he appeared surprisinglyuncomfortable. “For myunerringloyalty.”Heather laughed. At first.

His seriousness didn’t relent,nor did the strange feelingthat she’d caught him doingsomethingwrong.

No, not wrong. Just…outofcharacter.He’dhavelovedanickname like“Playboy”—grinningandlickinghislowerlip,enjoying thecompliment.Butfriendship?Loyalty?Thatmade him squirm. His callsignwasadailyreminderthathewasn’tallhepretended tobe.That her observation rang

true scared her just as muchasonesimplerealization.Shewanted him now more than

ever.

ChapterThirty

Jon shifted, running histhumbalonghisemptybreadplateasheenduredHeather’sscrutiny.Amusementhadslidoff her face, replaced by alookofconfusion?Surprise?Thecollarofhisdressshirt

was uncomfortably tight. Hetilted his neck to the side,

lookingawayfromher.He could believe loyalty

wasn’t easy for Heather toimagine of him. He playedtheroleofthedirtyfuck,andshewascontent to leave itatthat. Except it…unsettledhim. Jon didn’t appreciatebeing unsettled. An off tastegathered in the back of hismouth, one that cheap winewouldn’t be able to washaway.“So how did that happen?

WhydidTinTinstick?”He leaned back,

determined to keep thisdiscussion casual. “The veryfirstmorning Iwas supposedtoreporttomyveryfirstdutystation,Iwaslate.”“I bet you were in some

seriouslyhotwater.”“Absolutely. The

commander spent a goodtwenty minutes dressing medown, until a friend knockedon the office door.” People

still milled around theirtables, chatting and huntingdownthebarsateachsideofthe ballroom. “Billy told theCO I was late because I’dbeenathishouseuntiltwointhe morning. I’d beencoaching him through asticky situation with his ex-wife.”Pale blue eyes glimmered

with compassion. But sheshook it off almostintentionally.

Leah plunked down in herseat at Heather’s far side.“Score.” She displayed abright yellow band aroundherwrist.“It doesn’t match the

uniform,Princess,”hesaid.Shepulledaface.“It’s the

drink band. Forty bucks upfront and it’s practically anopenbar.”JonandRyanexchangeda

look over Cass’s head.Hopefully Leah would keep

hershittogether,butitwasn’tlikely. The woman seemedbored with life. Alcohol washer fastest route to not-as-bored.And shit, itwas Jon’s turn

to bail her out. By far.Dashwas seated two tables overwith his wife, Sunny—andwithEricDonaghue.SoDashwas out too. Ryan hadcoveredthelasttwomidnightphone calls since Jon hadbeen too wrapped up in

Heather.She was still doing it,

turning him inside out. Thetemptationofhersidebethadhim on pins and needles.Heknew she was perfectlycapable of fingering herselfunder the table.Thequestionwas whether she actuallywould. Anticipation was akeen,welcomedistraction.Jon had never particularly

liked military balls. Theyreminded him too much of

the formal events his parentsoften held in the guise ofcharity financing. None hadbeen more painful than theevent they’d hosted onlyseven weeks after Sara’s carwreck. Rubbing elbows tokeep the beaches of Hyannispristine. He’d still held outhope that their family wouldhuddle together, grieving inprivate.It hadn’t happened.

Instead, he’d sat at the back

of the ballroom with hisgrandfather, watching thespectacle with matchingdisdain.Having a keyed-up,

obviously excited Heathersitting next to him made thenight entirely different. Nosimpler. A split second afterthewaiter removed the saladplates, she brushed her lipsover his ear. One fingertipcircled the sensitive divot atthebaseofhisskull.

“Do you remember mybirthday?”Herhuskyvoicewasgoing

tohavehimdoingsomethingstupid.Damnsoon.Heschooledhisfaceintoa

subtle,smilingleerasheeyedthe shadowy valley of hercleavage. Things ran moresmoothlybetweenthemwhenhe was being overtly sexual.Saferforhim,aswell.“Clearly.”“Then you have a good

ideaofwhatI’mnotwearingunderthisgown.”“Verylittle?”She nuzzled the crook of

his neck. “You’re a brilliantman.”Jon glanced around the

table to see who’d noticed.Absolutely no one, thankGod. After all the shit Ryanhad taken, particularly whenhefirsthookedupwithCass,hewould revel in the chancetoturnitaroundonJon.

Heather’s bare toeswiggledunderthehemofhisslacks, emphasizing her lackof undergarments.As if he’dneededany further images inhis head. The sultry way thedeep red dress clung to hercurveswasalreadyenough.Hetracedthetopinchesof

her tattoo, exposed by a dipof scarlet fabric.Usually shedressedsoconservativelythathe’d only seen her ink baredduringsex.Eroticismcharged

every line and flower. Theends of her silky hair barelygrazedthetop-mostbud.“You’re a very bad girl,”

hesaidquietly.“We seem to be learning

that.”Somewhere around the

third speech, Jon wasridiculously wound up.Heather kept up their game.Every few minutes she’dwhispersomethingraunchyinhis ear. Something wickedly

dirty. He’d harden all overagain, despite trying to keephis attention on the otherpeopleatthetable.Followingthe stream of conversationtookeveryounceofingrainedtraining.Heather scooped some of

the chocolate pudding thatwas supposed to be mousse,thendippeditintohermouth.The spoon slid out betweenherlipsasshewatchedhim.Shelickedatherlowerlip.

“I think I’ve decided what Iwant. As my reward forbehaving.”He brushed the heavy

drape of hair back from herface. Her features wereclassically beautiful, such anerve-racking contrast to herdecadent thoughts. “Andwhat’sthat,Ms.Morris?”“Playingwithyourassthat

timegotmethinking.Infact,I haven’t been able to stopimagining switching places.”

She lowered her lashes. “Iwantanalsex.”Jon choked.On absolutely

nothing. Air turned to oil inhis lungs.Hiscockrearedupunder his dress trousers,readytoobey.Instantly.Wearing a lovely smirk,

Heather patted him on theback as he reached for hiswaterglass.Two seats down, Ryan

quirkedhisbrows. “Problem,TinTin?”

Jon coughed another timeor two. He wanted nothingmorethantohaulHeatheroutof there. Now. Do not passgo.“No problem,” he

answeredtightly.“Really? Because for a

second there, it looked like Iwasgoingtohavetowhipoutthe Heimlich.” He widenedhis eyes and rested his chinon folded hands. “But wait.Youweren’t eatinganything.

Caretoexplain?”“Wouldyoupleaseshutthe

hell up?” he hissed, quietlyenough that only his friendscouldhear.AtleastLeahwasoffatthebar,again,orshe’dlikelyblowittotherestofthetable.Cass giggled. “Gee, that

soundsawfullyfamiliar.”Jondidn’twant toglare at

Cass.Shewastoodamnnice.So he aimed his ire back atRyan.

“What’s wrong, flyboy?”Heatherwhispered.“Theideaof stroking your cock in myassgetsyouthathot?”Under the long tablecloth,

he gripped her thigh. Satinslid beneath his palm. “Idon’t think I’d be the onlyone,” he saidwith every lastdredge of silky charisma.Cultivated smoothness wasallhehadleft.The dangerousMs.Morris

wanted to play up-the-ante.

Bring it. He could meet hereverymove.It’dbeahellofalot more fun than trying tomake sense of them. Theydidn’t need to make sensewhen their bodies tookcharge.Jon edged up her thigh

untilherskirtbunchedaroundhis wrist. He brushed hermound, just enough to hearthe small hitch in herbreathing.He bent so that his mouth

grazed ruby earrings thatmatched the dress. “WhenI’ve got you on your handsand knees, face pressed intothe pillow? And youscreaming loud enough towaketheneighbors?Andmycock pounding your sweet,tight ass? Then we’ll seewho’shotandbothered.”Red lips parted on a silent

gasp, even as the rest of thetable stood to applaud thekeynotespeaker.Withahand

around Heather’s elbow, Jonlevered her to stand. Hejoined the applause as ifnothing else occupied hismind. She followed suit, hereyesgratifyinglyhazy.Whenthemusicstarted,he

held out his hand. “May Ihavethisdance?”Her long, graceful throat

worked over a swallow.“Sinceyouactuallyaskedthistime.”On the parquet floor,

Heathermeltedintohisarms.He pressed his cheek againstthe dark, silken fall of herhair and breathed deeply.Hefought to keep the moodlight, but sex and tendernessmadethatnearlyimpossible.She pressed her mouth

against his neck then lickedthehollowbehindhisjaw.Heonly restrained a shiver bylocking his arms across herback.“We need to leave,” he

growled.Sheshookherhead,buthe

felthersmileblossomagainsthis skin. She was enjoyingherself. So much. Truth betold,sowashe.“Iwanttodanceforalittle

while.”“You mean you want to

tortureme.”Shesnuggledincloser.Her

breasts pushed across hisdressshirt.“Thattoo.”Jon ran his fingers down

the visible section of hertattoo, then continued downherbackandacrossherwaist.He knew its path by heart.“There’s a corridorapproximately two hundredfeetaway,attheotherendofthe ballroom. If you don’tagreetoleaverightnow,I’mhauling you in there andfucking you up against thewall. And youwon’t getmycock in your ass like youwant.”

“Idon’tbelieveyou.”“No?”Her tongue slicked across

her bottom lip. “No. Youenjoynoveltytoomuch.Thatscenario sounds entirely toomuch like our evening at thecountryclub.”“Fuck,” he said on a grin.

“You’reright.Nowbehave.”He nodded to where Ryan

and Cass swayed alongsidethem.“Princess is up to no

good.”Ryan’snormallyopenfeatures were drawn tightwithworry.“Behindyou,teno’clock.”“FuckingChrist,”Jonspat.

“Isn’tthatMr.Preston?”Leahwasn’tquitesittingin

the man’s lap, but goddamnshe was close. She’d tuckedher chair directlynext tohis.Theirheadstippedtogetherasif no one else occupied thecavernous ballroom. A glassof something frothyandblue

dangledfromherfingers.Herbun had come loose at theedges,withastrandofbrownhaircurlingaroundherjaw.“Sure is,” Ryan said. “We

havetogetheroutofhere.”Cass tightenedherholdon

Ryan’s biceps. “I don’tunderstand.”“Me either,” Heather

added. “He looks like aperfectlyniceguy.”Ryan shook his head.

“He’s married to the

executive officer of 505thOperations Group. This is ahot mess waiting to happen.Twominutesmoreandshe’llsure as shit catch wind ofthis.”“I’ve got her,” Jon said

automatically. “I’ll take herhome.”Cass’s mouth fell open.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’lltake her. More room inRyan’struck,anyway.”

They didn’t have time togo rounds over who’d takeher home. Immediateextractionwas necessary.Heagreed.He and Ryan cut in on

Leahwithaminimumoffusswhile Heather and Casswaited at the edge of theballroom. Leah wentwillingly enough. She onlytwiddledafingerwavetoMr.Preston.In the corridor, Heather

andCassfellintostepbehindthem. When Leah stumbled,Ryan and Jon each took anarm.Jon was pissed. Flat-out

pissed at his friend. Morethan a year of covering forher stripped the last of hiscivility. “What the hell wasthat? You’re a captain. Agoddamn fighter pilot. Youready to flush that down theshitter?”“I do my job,” she

protestedweakly.Ryan’s thundercloud

expression said he’d reachedhis snapping point too.“Doesn’t count for muchwhen you act like a terminalscrewup every night. I’mdone,Leah.”“Fine, fine.” She tried to

wave a hand, which onlyaddedtoherunsteadiness.Jon tightened his grip on

herupperarm.“Whythefuckdoyoupullthiscrap?”

Her eyes were glassy, butshe wasn’t insensible. Notyet.Nearly tooquiet tohear,she whispered, “I don’tknow.”They’d finally done it, he

andFang.They’dchewedheroutthewayshedeserved.Notthat it stoodmuch chance ofdoing any good, and Jon feltnobetterforhavingunloadedon her. As Ryan’s truckpulled away with all threeinside,heshovedhishandsin

his pockets. That Leahteetered so close to ruin waseasytopointout.Whattodoaboutitbecamemurkier.Hercall.Herlifetoruin.Jon couldn’t do a damn

thing more. That turned hisgutstoice.Heather curled against his

side.“Youokay?”He nodded. Filling his

handswith the skinbaredbyhergownhelped.Morethanalittle.

Foramoment,he’dalmostthought she would offer totalk about it. He would’vetaken her up on the offer.Idiot.Instead she traileda finger

downhislapel.“Doyouthinkgoing upstairs might makeyoufeelbetter?”

ChapterThirty-One

Don’tthink.Justfeel.Thosefourwordshadbeen

pounding in Heather’s brainsince sitting beside Jon fordinner.Don’tthink.Justfeel.That was harder to do, so

much harder when he madeher feel more than the

physical.They’d been lovers for

nearly two months—such along time to hold back themomentumofherfascination.She’d found nodisappointments. None. Onher end, she was practicallyready to take it to the nextlevel. Fear kept her silent. Itwasn’t so much about herreputation anymore and howhard she’d worked tocultivate a squeaky-clean

image.No,itwasbecauseherrecklessness remained. Jontemptedhertoit,urgedhertoindulge. She’d succumbed tothat temptation before whenshe was young and stupid.Twelve years should’ve putenough distance betweennaïve kid and competentwoman.Yet the longer she stayed

with Jon, the more shebecame convinced somebreaking point was coming.

Soon. Once again she wouldwind up feeling like the girlwho’d missed prom becauseofa fast-talkingcorporal andhis motorcycle. Or worse,she’d tell Jonshewasfallingin love and have that rawemotion shoved back in herface. Laughed at. It hadhappened before—far morehumiliating than what herfirstloveandhisbuddieshaddonetoherfortherestoftheweekend.

She’d trusted the wrongman with her heart. Shehadn’t been that trustingsince.She led Jon into the

elevator at the Bellagio. Hersmilewaspainful.He leanedagainst the interior panelingand toyed with their roomkeycard. What she’dproposed layered betweenthem, building strength. Heranticipation far outweighedher fear. She knew without

doubt thathewoulddoashealwayshad.Drive her crazy.Make her

come.Keephersafe.Thedifficultywas thatshe

had never wanted this withanyone else, or could neverimagine wanting it withanyone else. Jon was takingup far too many exclusiveplaces. Every time she triedto prove hewas just a crazygood time, he did his job—and by that fact proved he

wassomeonespecial.“Secondthoughts?”Don’tthink.Justfeel.“Not at all,” she said

smoothly. “I was thinkingthat you have a lot ofwhisperedpromisestokeep.”“Liar.”“Hm?”“That’snotwhatyouwere

thinking.”Heather smothered her

surpriseinapout.“Tryingtochangethesubject,Captain?”

He shoved off from theelevator wall. Stalked closer.Pushed her back. “Why areyoudoingthis?”“Doingwhat?”“Youknowwhat?ForgetI

said anything.” He tonguedhis bottom lip, his gaze onhers. “You want to play badgirl with my cock? By allmeans. Ready, willing andable.”Occasionally she’d

believed him easy to read,

when the playboy actstretched too thin. Not rightthen. He was either beingsarcastic, or hewas coveringsomething very close todisappointment. Heather wasso tangled up and inside outthat she had no perspective.All she knew was that helooked breathtaking in hisuniform,andthatunderJon’sblatantscrutiny,shefeltsexyanddesired.Maybe this would be

enough.Maybethenshecouldstop.“Glad to hear that.” She

stroked Jon’s satincummerbund. “I’d hate tothink I’ve restrained myselfwith no reward to show forit.”“Perishthethought.”The elevator door opened.

Jon held her hand, almost asif theywere loversboundbygenuine caring, not by aseries of escalating

provocations. Heathersaunteredthroughthedoortotheir suite, which was onlyslightly lessostentatious thanthe one they’d shared at ThePalazzo.Jon unraveled the ties of

her gown’s bodice almost assoonasthedoorclickedshut.A slight sting ofdisappointment needled herskin.Why should itmatter ifhe didn’t play and toy andtakehis time?His tenderness

was harder to bear than thesteady, even pace of hisfingerslooseningthelaces.Don’tthink.Justfeel.So she did. Heather sank

into the rush of beingundressed. The gownunclasped her rib cage. Shetook her first deep inhalationoftheevening,onlytocatchabreath of Jon’s cologne. Hestoodbehindher and slidhisfingers from her hips, up,untilhepalmedherbreasts.

“Do that again,” hewhispered against her nape.“Deepbreath.”Shecomplied,arching slightly. Themovement pushed her bodyinto his hands. “Again.Breathe,Heatherlove.”Air rushed to her brain.A

fresh burst of oxygen fueledher anticipation. Her skinprickled as the rest of herdressdroppedoverherhips.Jon offered his arm.

“Step.”

Knowing how she mustappear,shesteppedoutofthepuddle of her gown. All shewore were her earrings, herblack high heels, and thenippleringheflickedwithhistongue.Oh, itwas easier now.No

worries. Thiswas Jon. She’dtrusted her body to him insingular ways. His decadentsmile warmed every inch ofherskin.“Youareafilthy,beautiful

woman.”She purred against his

throat. “I’mgoing togowaitonthatchaise.AndI’mgoingto start touchingmyself, likeI’vewantedtodoallnight.”“We have much in

common, Ms. Morris.Because I’ll enjoy watchingthat.”“Iwantyounakedtoo.”“And here I thought you

were a real lady,” he said,unfurlinghisbowtie.

Hiswords,spokenharshly,tightened her vertebrae, butshe shoved away the reflex.Justanact.Justthegame.Ifitwasn’t,whyshouldshecare?This was what she wantedfromhim—ahard,sexytime,well beyond the safe lifeshe’dmade.Sherepeatedthattoherself

asshefoundhereveningbagandretrievedabottleoflube.Making him wait for herrequest had been another

game.She’dknownallalongwhat she wanted from theirevening.Like throwing down a

gauntlet, she placed it in thepalmofhishand.Thenshedrapedacrossthe

sleekleatherchaise.“Atyourpleasure,flyboy.”“If we do this at my

pleasure, you won’t enjoy itverymuch.”“Don’t make assumptions.

You know how satisfying I

find it when you losecontrol.”Jon stopped in the process

oflayinghisdressjacketoverthe back of a chair. Cruellyhandsome black suspendershugged his chest. “Withregard to this particularintimacy, that wouldn’t be agoodidea.”A flutter of nerves kicked

upinherstomach.Damn,whywas shedoing

this? Why was she pushing

him? She’d lost track of somany conflicting motives:hiding from how much sheenjoyed his company, lovingthat she surprising him,wantingtokeephisattention.Forever.Acoldshivermadeherrub

herupperarms.“I thought youweregoing

to torment me.” Jon sliddownthesuspenders,ditchedthebowtieandcummerbund,and began unbuttoning his

shirt. “Touchez votrechagatte, mon amour.” Hegrinnedatherslightmoan.“Isaid,touchyourself.”Heather obeyed. Her body

was well ahead of herconflicted mind. Nervesjumped at the first touch ofherfingers.Jon’ssoftchuckleflamed her skin. He wasrunning this show, anddamnif shewasn’t thankful. She’dlost control the moment shesteppedoutofthatdress.

He shed his clothes untilthey trailed behind him, adotted line on the carpet.Notidy piles tonight. Lean,ripped muscle flexed witheach deliberate step. Herattention caught on thedetails.Thelayeredscoopsofhis ribs, the sharp V-line athis hips, the bottle of lubestill inhishand.His erectionangledtowardhisnavel,longand ready for her. Heather’scunt tightened, wet and

waiting, but that wasn’t hisdestination.Shestrokedfaster—half pleasure, half restivesuspense.His every motion leashed,

Jon knelt on the chaise. Hespread her knees and tookhold of her high-heeled foot.Her ankle hooked over hisshoulder.Thelightswerestillbright. She was utterlyexposed, her skin feverishnow.Jonheld theoutsideofher

calf. His thumb gentlystroked the tense muscleunderneath.Dark hair dustedhisforearmsandthebacksofhiswrists.Heslidherafiercelook.“Hugyourbreasts.Holdthemupforme.”If she took her hand out

from between her legs, shewould remove that lastbarrier. He would havecomplete access. She lickedher lips, once, twice, thencupped her forearms under

her breasts. Jon’s irisesdeepened, nearly black now.He breathed tightly throughhisnose.He flipped open the bottle

oflube.Drizzledafewdropsonhisfingers.Smiled.“SomanythingsIcoulddo

to you from here. I couldstrokemycockbetweenthoselovely tits.MaybeIwouldn’teven last.” He shrugged. “Idon’tthinkI’dregretit.”Heather tweaked her

nipples. “You have yourorders,Captain.”Swirling his thumb and

fingerstogether,hespreadthelube over his skin. “Indeed Ido.”Jon placed his palm,

fingers down, against herpussy. His middle fingercurled, nudged, pushed, untilthat slick tip nestled againsther tight opening. Heathertensed, then forced a longexhalation.

He released her ankle sothatherlegsspreadwide,onehighheeloneithersideofthechaise. Dipping at the waist,he feathered kisses from hernavel on down. A quiverbegan at her belly andradiated out in wide circles.Shewatched,transfixed.His taut tongue found her

clit.All thewhile hismiddlefinger waited against heranus.Thepressuregrewmoreinsistent. Jon rasped rough

French phrases against herpussy.His breath heated andcooled at the same time.Every vibration rumbledagainst her thin, sensitiveskin.Thetipofhismiddlefinger

pushedinside.Heather gasped, then

groaned softly. “So good,”shewhispered.“And we’ve only just

started.”He sucked her clit and

caught that tight bundlebetween gentle teeth. Hisfinger pushed deeper. Slow,slow pulses created a lullingrhythm. Heather pinched hernipples out of frustration aseachstrokerelaxedher,easedher toward pleasure—theanxietylonggone.More lube. Another sleek

finger.Jon’s skin shone with a

lightsheenofsweat.Heliftedfrom between her legs, his

expression wrapped in anartificial calm. The musclesof his forearm and bicepsbunched as he pulsed. Onlyafter those two fingersworked steadily, in and out,thepacefaster,didhestoptograbacondom.Heather couldn’thearover

the hard pulse in her ears.Desire drummed away herfear. She was eager now,curious, waiting for the nextstep.

Againhehookedherankleoverhisshoulder.Thespikedhigh-heel still clung to herfoot. Long, elegant fingerspositioned the sheathed headofhiscockagainstherpussy.His hips did the rest. Oneplunge, two, and they werefuckingonthatleatherchaise.The buildup had been so

steady,slow,hotthatHeathernearlyletgo.OnlyJon’s lowlaughter brought her back tothe moment. “Don’t come,

Ms. Morris. If you do, yourclenching pussy might finishmeoff.”Gasping his name, she

arched toward the jarringsmack of his hips. He bentover her. One hand proppedagainst the chaise’s curvedback. The other found herhair, tangled, pulled. Herscalpflushedwithsweetpain.“I said, don’t come,” he

whisperedagainstherthroat.Heather groaned, spread

wide for him. The positionwas too much, the pleasuretoo much. A quick orgasmshudderedoverher.Hercuntfloodedwithhotrelease.Jonhissed.Pulledout.His

chest heaved and his backteeth clenched tight.“Goddamn,Heather.”Her mind still hazy with

that flash of pleasure, shefound him tugging her legs,shifting, flipping her on thechaise. He smeared her

arousal between her asscheeks.Adoseofthechillierlubemadehershiver.Floating, relaxing, she let

himin.Slowly at first. The tip of

his head pushed past a tightbarrierthatbarelyresistedhisentry. Heather groaned longand low.His hands shook ashe squeezed her hips.Squeezedhard.Shefelteveryounceofhisrestraintinthosetensefingertips.

She took more of him,more still. Such a dangerousindulgence. She drifted to aplacewherepainandpleasurewalkedtogether.Hishipspushedflushwith

her ass. Thatwas their limit,as deep as he could go.Totally filled. She’d neverbeen so aware of her body’slimits—how far she couldwiden to accommodate Jon’siron-hard prick. Every nervescreamed.Shewantedhimto

take it slow.Shewantedhimtopoundhersohard thathermindshutdown.Each successive stroke

drew out more sensation.Facedown on the chaise, shescored her nails into theleather, imagining it wasJon’s chest.His strokesweresmooth. Slick. He pumpedher asshole with the steadythrobofhiscock.Shewassoopen now. Her body offerednoresistance.Hemayaswell

have been fucking herdrenched pussy. Each deepthrust rocked her, filled her,stretched her. She blinkedbacktears,justhermoansandgaspsbecameanunstoppableoutlet for the sweetest,darkestagony.Jonbentlowoverherback.

Reaching around, he foundher clit and matched theirrhythm with flicking circles.His tongue licked up herspine, until he laid his cheek

in the valley between hershoulder blades. Their hot,sticky bodies arched intandem.Heather thrashedherhead,

but his relentless thrustsdidn’tstop,didn’tevenslow.Hishipssmackedherass.Hedrove deeper, worked hisfingerfaster.Harder.Her release,when it came,

was unlike any she’d everexperienced. Her worldcentered where he invaded

the slick pucker of her anus.Sensation pounded her fromall sides. Feverish. Vital.Filthy.The dark behind her eyes

went bright white. Shescreamedandkeptscreaming.“Ah, Christ,” he gasped.

Hispelvisjerked.Hegruntedand blew out a longexhalation that matched herwitheringmoan.They huddled on the

chaise, both panting heavily.

Jonslippedfree thensoothedher with slow caresses alongher slick cleft. His breathpettedupherspine.“Just amazing,” she

whisperedagainsttheleather.“Just…thankyou,Jon.”“That’swhatI’mherefor.”Coldness slinked over her

skin,raisinggoosebumps.Inthelastfewminutes,hecouldhave done anything—anything—to hurt her.Instead he’d given her an

exquisite initiation, anintimate treasure unlike anyinherlife.Only at the last did he do

her injury. No matter howmuch Heather wanted theiraffair to remain simple, hiswordsleftherhurting.

ChapterThirty-Two

Jon lovedvery little in theworld more than flying.Maybe nothing. Thedesperategrabtheearthmadeto keep him grounded. Thethrill of takeoff. The rush ofspeed. His fellow pilots offhis wingtips and the steadyhum of the radio worked in

concert to take down theirassignedtarget.Thewholeenterprisewasa

mastery of human initiativeover a wickedly difficultpuzzle.Princessdartedaheadof him, her jet skippinggracefully. To his right sidewas Fang and his doggeddetermination. Being part oftheRedForcemeantbalance:putting pieces together andtakingthemapart,alltomakeotherpilotsbetter.Everything

theydidhelpedsavelives.Fuckingbeautiful.Moreproofthathe’dmade

the right call in bailing onHeatherfortheirdate.Even as Jon drew off a

heat-seeking missile with aflare—thatorangepoptrailedby white smoke—the morecomplicated puzzle ofHeather kept himpreoccupied. Would sherealizethebasketofchocolateand strawberries he’d sent to

her office was his way ofdisengaging? As much as herelished fucking her, and asmuch as he still wanted tofigureoutwhatmadehertick,hewas tiredofbeingusedasahotcock.Notwhenshewasso unwilling to let any realpartofherselfopenup.Heneverwould’vethought

it possible, but the dares hadwornthin.A German Tornado swept

up fast from the south,

searching low. For theenemy.Forhim.Jon pushedHeather out of

his mind. His job was tofocus.He skimmed over the top

of the rocks and hugged theterrain for cover. His plane,an extension of everycalculated choice, respondedperfectlythroughtheslopeofthecanyon.Hesawthewayitwould move even before heshifted the throttle. No

mystery in an F-16. Justpower and deadly elegance.He visualized the numbersandmadeithappen,eachandeverytime.Straightforward.Nothinglefttochance.

He hadn’t planned onrunning intoDonaghue againthat day. But the single BXonbasemeantsometimesshithappened.Jon turned down an aisle

withaGatoradeinhand,onlyto draw up short.He’d spenttoo long paging throughSara’sbooksthenightbefore,indulging in maudlinsentiments. Combined withtwo hard flights, his reserveswereshot.Donaghue stood before a

display of cheap electronics.He held two packs ofwhatever,seeminglydebatingbetween the two. Should’vebeeneasytoavoidnotice.Jon

turnedaway.The Aggressors were a

small,elitecrew.IfRyanandthe rest of the chain ofcommand thought Kisserdeserved a spot on the team,itwasn’tJon’sbusinesstosayanything else. Keeping hisdistance was safest,especially when repeatedattemptstomakethestubbornbastard see sense had allfailed.But the blunt accent of an

inner-city thug called himback.“Goodflighttoday,TinTin.”Jon faced him. “For

whom?”Donaghuegrinned.“Me,of

course. You went downtwice.LuckyRedForcepilotscan regenerate or your daywould’veendedrealquick.”Pain spiked behind Jon’s

ears as he ground his backteeth.Hard.“Iwentdownthesecond time because you

deviated from your flightpath.Youalmosttookouttheaircommand.”Fluorescent lights flashed

over plastic as Donaghuetossed down both pieces ofcrap. “Ididn’t though.ThoseGermans learned their place.All’s well that ends withwinning.”“Bullshit.” Jon stalked

forward. The other pilot wasroughly Jon’s height, but hewas a solid wall of muscle.

Didn’t matter. Jon was sopissed thatKisser retreated ahalfstep.Hekepthisvoice toa low

hiss. This was between himandDonaghue.Alone. “All’swell that ends with yourfellow pilots alive and safe.You’d do well to rememberthat.Thoseareyourbuddies.Your friends. I hope youdon’tfindoutwhatit’sliketoget one of them killedbecause you made another

dick-first choice. Or plowyour own fucking face intotheground.Guyswhoflylikeyoudon’tcomehome.”His roughfeaturespinched

tight.“It’sjusttraining.”“Ifyouthinkthat,youneed

tobail.Immediately.”Tossing the Gatorade onto

arandomshelf,JonstrodeoutoftheBXbeforehecoulddoanything stupider. Like slamhis fist into that hugecocksucker’sjaw.

His Aston was aimed atHeather’s house before hecouldactuallythinkabouthisdestination.Fuck,hehaditbad.Evenasheknockedonher

front door, he realized hewasn’t going to get what heneeded. Catharsis. Someoneto talk to about his fellowpilot’s foolish decisions. Atight,hungry fearcrawleduphis spine and drew hisshoulder blades together—

one he hadn’t experienced inyears.Thefearofrejection.HeatherwouldwantJonto

make her come. Hopefullyher dares would be enough.He couldn’t seem to getanythingelseoutofher.He shouldn’t even want

anything else. He’d learnedthe hard way that sometimesa man didn’t get what heneeded, that he had to takepeople as they were. Some

people weren’t capable ofopeningup.Heatherwasoneofthem.That didn’t stop him from

knocking again. The doorswungopenslowly.“You look like shit,” he

blurted.Shedid.Herdarkhairwas

skinned back into a messyponytail. Faint purpleshadowsclungunderherpaleeyes. A cotton camisole andbare feet under flannel

pajamabottomswere the lasttouches.“Way to make a girl feel

good.”Joncurledhishandaround

the sun-warmedwood of thedoorjamb. “I always tell thetruth, remember? What’swrong?”Shecrossedherarmsunder

her breasts in an obviousdon’t touch me signal. “Ididn’tthinkyouwerecomingover.”

“Change of plans.” Hecouldn’t explain it himself.No point in poking atsomethinglikethat.“Look, I’m not feeling

well.” Her mouth pulleddown. She rubbed herstomach. “I know you don’twant to stick around for this.So I’ll just call youtomorrow,okay?”He brushed his knuckles

overhercheekbones.Atleastshe wasn’t running a fever.

“Tellmewhat’swrong?”“The usual icky—” She

broke off. Her eyes flared.She spun and ran off downthe short hallway. Thebottomsofherfeetflashed.Jon followed, slamming

the front door behind him.Heather had alreadydisappeared. He followed towhere the bed sheets were atumbled,snarledmess.But she’d shut the

bathroom door. Even locked

it.“Come on, Heather.” He

knocked on the white wood.“Letmein.”“Don’t be—” Retching

noises punctuated herwords,along with a cough or two.“Don’tberidiculous.”Jon bowed his head as he

tookadeepbreath.IfHeatherwas sick, hewasn’t going tobeputoffbysomenastiness.TheAirForce trustedhim tokeep his shit together in the

faceofdeathanddestruction.Vomitwasnothing.“Openup,Heather.Letme

helpyou.”The silence stretched until

itbecametangible.Hiswordstookonanextraweightashelistenedforherreply.All she saidwas, “Gimme

asecond.”The toilet flushed,

followed by running water.She opened the door. Watergleamed on her dark lashes,

turning them spiky.Her skinwasstreakedpink.Joncouldn’thelpbutframe

her face in his hands,although it went against hersilent rules. He kissed herdampforehead.“Letme tuckyouinbed.”She looked up at him.

Something intangiblewashedover her wan features. Thenshe found a listless smile.“Yougoing toplayknight inshiningarmor?”

Helaughedasheledhertobed. “Leah’s given meenoughpractice.”Heather snuggled into bed

and curled on her side. Hercheek pressed into anoverstuffedpillow.Hetuggedthe sheets and her comforteroverhershoulders,thenwentabout neatly tucking in theendofthebed.“Did you just make

hospitalcornersonmybed?”“What?”Heglanceddown

towhathe’ddone.Thesheetswere inspection perfect. Aflush crawled up the back ofhis neck. “If I say yes, areyougoing to kick them rightoutagain?”“Maybe.”He eased nearer and

brusheddark,damphairbackfrom her temples. “Whathappened?”“Igotsick.”“Duh.” He tugged on her

ponytail—softly though,

because she really was amess. “I mean what’swrong?”“I’m not sure. It’s either

foodpoisoningortheflu.”“Haveyouhadanythingto

drink?”She almost turned green.

“Noway.Nothing’sgoing inmymouth.Nuh-uh.”“You have to keep your

fluids up.” He stroked hershoulder.“Youdon’twant togetdehydrated.”

“Thanks,Dr.Carlisle,”shesaiddryly.Hechuckled.“Stayhere.”“It’s not like I’m going

anywhere.”Herkitchenwaspractically

stripped bare. The stainless-steel fridge was a barrenwasteland populated bysingle-servecupsofyogurt,afewboxesoftakeoutChineseand Diet Coke. No way washepouringcaffeinedownherthroat.

He put in a call to hisfavorite delivery service andplaced an order for crackersand liquids with plenty ofelectrolytes. He accepted therush delivery fee, paying bycredit card. “If I don’tanswer, just leave it on theporch,”hetoldtheclerk.Resolved to waiting, he

poured aglassofwater fromthe filter pitcher on the slatecounter.Heather was no longer in

thebedroom.Thecovershadbeen tossed back and thebathroom door was closed.“Heatherlove?”Twominutespassedbefore

shereemerged.“I’mgoingtohavetobuyanewtoothbrushafterthis.”“That’s it,” he gritted.

“We’retakingyoutoawalk-inclinic.”“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”Shetriedtocrawlbackinto

bed, but Jon wrapped his

arms around her waist.“Comeon.Doctor.Now.”“Idon’twanna.”“I didn’t figure you for

quitesostubborn.”“No? Have you not met

me?”“Good point.” Her head

tucked neatly under his chin.The strokes he smootheddown her back, over thecotton of her camisole, werelong and calm, intended tosoothe.

“I make a really shittypatient.”“I’mbeginning tosee that.

Comeon,onyourfeet.”He hauled her off the bed

and found a pair of slipperstossed at the end of her bed.Theway she cuddled againsthis side was surprisinglygratifying.So…great.Shewaswilling

to let him in under twoconditions: when he dangledan orgasm as a reward, or

when she was completelywornout.Ignoring how that grated,

Jon snagged her purse fromthetablebythefrontdoor.Shedraggedtoastopatthe

edge of her driveway. “AreyouseriouslygoingtoputmeinyourcarwhenI’mliabletopuke?”Even sick as she was,

nothinghidthegracefullinesof her cheekbones or thecomplicated thoughts lurking

inherpaleeyes.“Whywouldn’tI?”“Howmuch did that thing

cost?”He stifled a sigh.

“Enough.”Shenibbledherbottomlip,

studying him. Then shestretched up to brush afeather-soft kiss on his chin.All she said was, “Thankyou.”It was more than he’d

expected.

ChapterThirty-Three

Heather contained herinappropriategigglesformostof the ride home from thewalk-in clinic. The featwasn’t too difficultconsidering the knot of paininhergut.Butthentheyarrivedather

house.Thesceneofthecrime

against her stomachwas stilllaid out on the kitchencounter.Onelookatthedeliveryof

chocolate and strawberrieswas the end of her. Shelaughed so hard that sheneeded to sit down. Abarstool at her kitchen’sislandtookherweight.Jon stood in the doorway,

tense arms folded over hischest. His glare wasdownright impressive for a

manwithsuchprettyfeatures.She covered her mouth, butthegiggleswouldn’tquiet.Salmonella, thedoctorhad

said. The sweet red culpritshad been easy to identify.Twelve hours at work hadmade it too crazy to stop forlunch. She hadn’t eatenanything all day—except forJon’sstrawberries.“It’snotfunny,”hesaidfor

thetenthtime.“It is. Come on. A little.”

She was gasping for breath,still grinning. “Besides,shouldn’tIgetfinalsay?I’mtheonewho’ssick.”He prowled over to the

counter. Chocolate,strawberries and the deliverytray hit the trashwith a boldthud.Onlythendidhepermitachagrinedsmile.“NexttimeI’llsendedibleunderwear.”“Nofunwithoutyouhere.”The quip came

automatically. He’d been so

goodtoherintheclinic—heradvocate when her stomachhurt too much to dopaperwork. The four-hourordeal left her exhausted andcertain his stores of patiencewere quickly depleting. Tolearn his gift had been thecauseoftheordealshould’vebeenthelaststraw.God,shemustlookamess.

Anyminute now he’d find areasontoscram.Jon crossed the kitchen.

His legs nudged between herknees.Heplacedakissonhercrown.“I’msorry.”He hadn’t said that ten

times. The quietness andsincerity messed with heremotionalcompass.“Itwasn’t your fault.”She

stroked one of his forearmswhere his dark hair emergedfrombeneathrolledcuffs.“Itwas,by far, thenicestbrush-off present I’ve everreceived.”

His flinch confirmed herguess.“Ihadtowork.”“Then tell me you have

work.” She waved a handtoward the strawberries’trashcangrave.“Don’tsmarmyour way out of it. I knowbetter.”The skin between his

brows furrowed. Soothinghandsdroppedawayfromhershoulders. Only then did shefindthestrengthtolethimoffthehook.

“Jon, you don’t have tostay.”A little roughly, he hauled

her off the barstool. “Comeon,let’sgetyouinbed.”Her exhaustion made it

easy to let him lead. Shetrippedafterhim,backtoherbedroom and the sheets he’dstraightened withunconscious efficiency.Heather slumped onto themattress.Thehotache inherstomach remained, but at

leastthenauseahaddimmed.Once he’d tucked her in,

Jon sat on the edge of thebed.“Yourchoice,Heather.Icanstayorgo.”His expression was a

marvel of composure. Notquiteblank.Notquitepresenteither. The curve of his toplip seemed almost sarcastic,but his gaze bored into hers.He expected something fromher.What could he expect?

That she’d ask her lover tostayandplaynursemaid?Thedoctor had said the foodpoisoningcouldtakeadayortwotorunitscourse.Heatherhadn’twantedtodisturbJenn,notwithRich just back fromTampa.Theirtimetogetherasafamilywassofleeting.Yet facing the whole

weekendon her own left hercoldandalreadylonely.Would Jon really stick

aroundtolookafterher?That

idea was scary. Scary and…wonderful.“Stay,”shewhispered.She didn’t want to take it

back. Something like reliefbrightenedhis facebeforehehid it away. “Done. I’ll getyourGatorade.”Oh, she was sunk.

Torpedoes and direct hits.Sunk.She’d seen him in her

home before, but always aspartnersintentonsharingone

another in the bedroom—notsharing a living space. She’dalso known him to bemeticulousinhowhedressedand cared for his clothing.His car was never short ofimmaculate. Although shefeared getting so close, shecouldn’t help but wonderwhat his condo would looklike. Orderly, sure, but howwould he fill his place ofrefuge?He’donlyaskedonce.The

lurch in her stomach hadnothing to do with foodpoisoning. More to do withhertotallackofaspine.The reality of watching

him bustle around herbedroom gave her a secretsmile. She peeked out fromwhere she’d half-buried herfaceinherpillow.Hebroughta bowl and a towel from thekitchen, as well as a foulelectrolyteconcoction.But Heather drew the line

when he asked for cleaningsupplies.“Why?”“Thebathroomcounter.”Surprise and

embarrassment fought forcontrol. “Sit down, Jon.Please. You’re making metiredfromhere.”“That’s a step up.At least

you’renotlaughing.”Hiswryexpression took the sting outofhiswords.“Willyoupukeagain if I order a pizza?Yogurt doesn’t do it for me

andI’mstarving.”“You’re the man who

practically volunteered toclean my bathroom. Orderwhateveryouwant.”Forty minutes later he sat

beside her on the bed,proppedupontheheadboard.Heather ate crackers, finallyable to keep themdown. Jonhad turnedona rerunofTheDaily Show. Laughing withhim felt good, no matter theacrobatics in her stomach.

She snuggled against hischest. The steady beat of hisheartpinched longingaroundhers.Shehadn’tfeltsocaredfor

inalong,longtime.She must have dozed

because her next blinkswereindarkness.Jonhadshutoutthelights.Onlythestreetlampoutsideherhouse illuminatedthe room through lacebedroom curtains. His eyeswereclosed,hisfacerelaxed,

but she didn’t think he wassleeping.“Whydidyoucomeover?”

sheaskedquietly.“Itdoesn’tmatternow.”Heatherswallowedasliver

of dread. She couldn’t thinkofajokeoraninnuendo.Tootired. Nothing came to mindexcept the truth. “It doesmatter.Did you come by forsex?”“No.”Hisvoicewasalow

rumble.“Ihadanotherrun-in

with Donaghue, the captainyou met. Wanted to talkaboutit.”Warmth prickled her skin.

She’d assumed he was therefor an unplanned quickie,whichwastheirobviousMO.That he had stopped by foranother reason, and such apersonal one, sped hershallow respiration. Whenhadthatmattered?Whenhadshe secretly wanted him tosee her as something other

thanafuntime?Maybewhen she’dopened

herfrontdoorinherpajamas.Whenshe’dneededhim.No, that was the easy

answer. These moments andthis…wanting had beengatheringforweeks.“Talk about it now,” she

said.“No,Idon’tthinkso.”“Whynot?”He angled on the

headboard to look down at

her. The top two buttons ofhis soft blue cambric shirtrevealedthenotchatthebaseofhisthroat.“Becauseitgoesboth ways, Heather love. Ican’tdothisonmyown.”Shewantedtodisavowany

knowledge of what “this”meant, but she owed himmore than playing dumb. Ashiver made her dive backintohisembrace.She was tired. Blasted.

Exhausted. Holding up the

wall between them hadbecomeimpossible.“Do you know why I got

you to ask me to the ball?”sheasked.“I’drathernotguessifyou

cantellme.”“Because I never went to

myseniorprom.”He huffed a quiet laugh.

“NeitherdidI.”“No?”“I was at an ROTC

welcomemixer.”

Ofcoursehewas.Nothingabout himwas typical, she’dlearned. He constantly madeherlooktwice,tothepointofpinching herself. Words like“too good to be true” werealwaysfollowedbydoubts.Whyme?“But your reason?” he

asked.Heather shuthereyes.She

was glad for the dark andglad for their closeness. Shewouldn’t have to see his

expressions. “I was on theback of a motorcycle on mywaytoJersey.”“Youranaway?”“With a twenty-five-year-

old corporal named Sam.”She shivered. Something oldand dark and scary lifted thehairs across her nape. Jon’shand tightened around herupper arm. “We’d met justafter my dad’s retirement—that fabulous seventeenthbirthday of mine. Things

weren’tsogreatathomeafterhow I’d behaved, and thenthere was Sam. He was…hewas everything wild andcrazy. Smooth-talking. Cute.Hotbike.Iwasaseniorwitha grown-up boyfriend. Isnuckoutall thetime.Drovemyparentsnutsandmademyfriends crazy jealous. Such arush.Ilovedtheattentionandthethrill.”Hercheeksflashedhot. “I did anything hewantedmeto.”

That time Jon’s reactionwas unmistakable.He sighedand tucked inside himself.She could sympathize. Shewanted nothingmore than tohide. But she was doing thisfor him as a show of faith.Maybe she was doing it forbothofthem.“When we ran away

together at prom…I told himIlovedhim.”Sheswallowed.“Not well received, I’mafraid.Ayearonandoffwith

a teenaged girl didn’t meanlove to him. Itmeant a goodtime, every time. I honestlyhadn’tseenthedifference.Sothat weekend, he had otherthings in mind for us. Somefriends of his came over—twobuddiesfromhisplatoon.We got high. We…” Sheswallowed convulsively. “Iwoke up alone a few dayslater.”“Fucking hell,” he

whispered.

“Icalledmydad.Hehadtocomepickmeup from someshitty little beach motel.”Shame rolled over her in hotwaves. The terror of wakingup naked, with no sobermemories of the weekend,had rattled the foundation ofher life.“I swear toGod, thestrongestthinghe’severdonewasnotgoingafterSam.Dadcould have had him kickedout of theArmyon statutorycharges. We drove home in

silence.Iwasalmosttoohighto give a damn, but hissilencegotthroughtome.”Heather forced herself to

sit up. Her hair was a stickydisaster. Her guts ached.Maybe it hadn’t been such agood idea to revisit thathorror show when vomitingremained a possibility.Recalling those days wasabsolutelynauseating.“Mymedicaltestsallcame

backnegative.Iwas…Jesus,

I was lucky.” She shrugged,notbrave enoughyet to lookJon in the face. “I clampeddown after that. Hardcore. Iworked all summer and tooksummer courses. Nothingmattered but getting cleanandprovingmyself.Dad…Ittookawhile,butwemanaged.I don’t think I was everhappier thanwhenIsawhimwipe his eyes at my collegegraduation.”Tears filled her eyes too.

She pushed at themwith theheels of her hands as fatigueand a long-ago grief pushedback.Jon’s fingers rested

beneath her hair, caressinghernape. “Whendidyougetyourtattoo?”“That week when I

graduated.” She was feelingstronger now, as if emergingfromadarktunnel.“I’dbeenaccepted to my first-choiceMBA program and already

hadaninternshiplinedupforthat summer, but it was inFlorida.Iwasafraid.”“Of a challenge? That

doesn’tsoundlikeyou.”Sheshookherhead.“Iwas

afraidofslippingup.”“Being her again. What’s

doneisdone.”“Yes.”Jon gathered her in his

arms,kissingherforehead.“Ichewed out Donaghue at theBX for being a reckless

dickhead. Shouldn’t have. Itwasn’t my place. But betterthan that, I kept from hittinghim.”Sheheardasmileinhisvoice. “I wanted a cheeringsection to tell me I’d donegood.”Amazed,Heatherdrewina

sweet breath. He hadn’toffered pity or tritecondolences. He hadn’tjudged her. Instead he’dgiven her an out—one shegrabbedwithbothhands.

“You did good, Jon.Really.” She frownedslightly. “But why not seekout Ryan or Leah to talkaboutit?”“Toopersonalwiththem.”“Idon’tfollow.”“I got pissed at Donaghue

becauseguyslikethatputmyfriends at risk. I couldn’texplain that to them withoutcoming across like agoddamnputz.”Heather smiled. “Tin Tin

strikesagain?”“Oh, don’t you start too.”

He rolled halfway on top ofher. “I’m a callous, cold,unfeelingplayboy.Don’tyouforgetit.”“That’s the first lie I’ve

everheardfromyou.”“I prefer to call it an

evasive maneuver. You’reprettygoodatthemtoo.”“NotwhenI’mthistired.”He lookedher in the eyes,

handatherwaist.“Isitalittle

better?Atleast?”“Stillfeelingbadaboutit?”“Sure.”“I’mbetter.Honest.”“Good.”Jon slipped off the bed.A

streetlight cast him insilhouette. “Should I sleephere or on the couch? I’mgoodwitheither.”“Here.” The word slipped

free so quickly. Honest andsure.“Butnofunnybusiness.I’mliabletopukeonyou.”

“That could possiblyestablishanouterlimittomykink,Ms.Morris.”Hestrippedoffhisbutton-

down and shucked his jeans.Soonhisbodynestledagainsthers. Despite feeling as ifshe’d been run over by asemi,Heatherhadn’tbreathedsoeasilyinyears.For the first time since

theirmeetinginthatwinebar,she let herself hope they hadachance.Somethingmore.A

future.

ChapterThirty-Four

Despite having neverawoken there, Jon knewbeforeheopenedhiseyesthathewasinHeather’sbed.Hercurvy body wrapped aroundhim. Silky hair spilled overhischest.Theirlegspretzeledtogether.Mostcuriousofall,Heather had a death grip on

his waist. At least in sleepshe’dletdownafewofthoseclosebarriers.Thatwasn’texactlyfair.In

thedarkofnight,she’dlaidatleastone secretbare.Despitethe years that separated herfrom her mistakes, anddespite having created anentirely new version ofherself, her voice hadsounded frightened. Of whatshe’d done. Of the choicesshe’d made. Of what she

remainedcapableoflosing.Jon wanted to hunt down

that long-gone corporal andcut his balls off. Slowly.Usingdullnailclippers.Extricating himself from

her grip was difficultconsidering he didn’t evenwant to. But certain thingsneeded to be taken care offirstthinginthemorning.At least it was Saturday.

Hehadnowhereelsetobe.After padding back from

the bathroom, he stood overher and admired a singularview. Bright yellow sunlightspilled over the bed, whichadded a glow to femininefeatures already softened bysleep.Heather’scamisolehadtwisted around her ribs torevealsmoothskinandafewinches of her tattoo. He slidbackintobedasquietlyashecouldmanage.But she shifted sleepily

thenrubbedhereyes.Blinked

a few times. Her mouthtipped into a small smile.“Hey,you.”A tight, wadded place

behind his chest unfurled.Apparentlyhe’dbeenworriedthat she would close offagain. The absence of herusual wariness set him atease.Anunfamiliarsensation.“Bonjour, Heather, mon

amour.”“Itiswaytooearlyforyou

to play dirty like that.” She

groaned as she pushed hertorsoup.Jon laced his fingers

behind his head and grinned.“YouthinkIplaydirty?”“I don’t just think it, I

know it.” The look she shothim was indulgent. “See?You’redoingitevennow.”“Feelfreetotellmemore.”“You’re the one wearing

only a pair of boxer shorts,lounging in my bed. Youknowwhatyou’redoing.”

Laughing, he scratchedidlyacrosshischest.“Iguessyou’refeelingbetter.”Sherubbedherstomachas

sheseemedtotakeinventory.“You know, I think I am. Icouldprobablyeveneat.”“But you won’t,” he said

firmly. “Nothing more thantoastatfirst.”“Yes,Dr.Carlisle.”Dragging his slacks from

where he’d tossed them, Jonpulled them on. A rumpled

mess. When he caughtHeather staring at his ass, herealizedhedidn’t care.Whatwere wrinkled clothes whenthey shared a smile that washalf-fun, half-curious hello?He padded toward thekitchen.Drytoastandanelectrolyte

drink in hand, he returned tofindHeather still in bed.Butshe’d changed her pajamas,her face was pink fromwashing, and she’d brushed

herhairintoalooseponytail.She frowned at the glass ofbrightorangeliquid.“Is that more Gatorade? I

needsomecaffeine.”“Noway.Notuntilwesee

howthisstaysdown.”“I’m fine, I’m sure of it.”

She accepted the plate andglass.Jon lay down on the bed

and laced his fingers behindhis neck.He stared up at theplainwhite ceiling. The only

soundwasthecrunchoftoastandanoccasionalclinkoficeagainstthesideoftheglass.“Doyouwant tocomeout

with me and my friends onWednesdaynight?”Goddamn it. He hadn’t

exactly meant to go there.Not yet. But the words hadpopped out of his mouth.They’d only just hauled oneanother back from the brinkof a kiss-off that would’veended the whole affair. He

should take it slow if hewantedmore.Whichhedid.Inviting her out was

different now. She’d alreadymet everyone. But thisrequest held so muchimportance. It would meanriskingevenmore.“Ifyou’refeelinguptoit,”

headded.She set her cup on the

bedsidetable.“Whereareyouguysgoing?”“Karaoke.”

“Yousingkaraoke?”He laughed to cover his

awkwardness. “Yeah. AndI’mdamngoodatit.”She set the plate aside as

well. Then she folded herhands over his chest andleanedherchinonthem.Herbody stretched fully alonghis. Only when she smiled,another mix of shy andplayful,did Jongetaclueastoheranswer.“I wouldn’t miss that for

theworld.”

Jonhadn’tbeenabletoseeHeather after leaving herbungalow on Sundayafternoon.She’dstayedhomefromwork a day and a half,so he didn’t press for arenewed invitation to stopover. By Wednesday sheswore she was well enoughforasimplenightout.Everyone arrived at

Paulie’s, the tiny bar just offpost. The place was trulydive-bar-esque,itswallslinedwith certificates and plaquesfromvariousNellisunits.Buttheyhadonehellofakaraokesetup, including a stage andlights.Ryan and Cass sat along

one side of their usual table.The major looped his armaroundherseatashisfingerstrailed down her arm. Leahsat at the head of the table

where she said she had thebest view of the stage. Jonfigured it was more abouteaseofaccesstothebar.Leahwasthedrivingforce

behind their frequent trips toPaulie’s, the one off-dutyplace where she stayedrelatively sober. She claimedboozing it up impaired herability to remember lyrics,althoughsheusuallystillhadabeerorthree.Wonder ofwonders, she’d

orderedaDr.Pepper.Upon catching sight of

Jon’s raised eyebrow, shescowled. “So help me, TinTin, if you say a word, myfirst priority tomorrowmorningwillbeshootingyououtofthesky.”He held up his hands in

mock surrender, thoughinside he felt genuine relief.Maybe. Maybe she could doit.Thenightonlygotbetteras

he discovered a surprisingbonus. Heather wasn’t onlygametosing,shediditwell.Onstage the cool white

light clung to her features,just as Jon had imagined.She’dchosenaBillieHolidaysong, which perfectly suitedher huskyvoice.Hearinghersing a lament about nothaving a ghost of a chancewith a man sent chills downhisback.Cass scooted into the seat

next to him. “She’s lovely,youknow.”“She’sbeautiful,yeah.”Leaningher chinon a fist,

she skewered him with areproachfulglance.“Don’tbedense.”He’d known what she

meant. After the surprisingway Heather had opened upabout her past, he’ddiscovered a spot inside himthat was still too raw toprobe, much less talk about.

He’d never been one to trusthappiness.Cass snagged her glass of

lemonade. “You should seethewayshewatchesyou.”At thathehad to laugh.“I

know exactly how shewatchesme.”“No, it’s more than that.”

Her expression turnedcontemplative, with hermouth twisted at one side.Jon caught the direction ofher glance—across the table,

where Ryan and Leah werelaughing. “It’s like she’s notsureifshecanriskit.”Joncoughedand faced the

stage. The conversationverged on territory best keptbetween her and Ryan. Hefocused instead on Heather,who looked sexy as hell in aslim, hip-hugging pair ofjeansandadarkredblouse.“I’m no risk,” he said. “I

wouldn’thurther.”Had he ever been able to

saythataboutanylover—andmean it in every sense? No.He sipped his scotch, heartlurching.Cass patted his hand.

“Sometimes the risk doesn’thave anything to do withyou.” She grinned. “Andbelieveme, it sucks fish finstowaitfor thestupidtowearoff.”With that she crossed

behind empty chairs andreclaimed her place on

Ryan’slap.ThepixieandtheAll-American. Jon shook hishead, took another sip andreturned his attention toHeather.She finished her song to a

healthy smattering ofapplause. She seemed towake from a daze. A pinkblush stained her highcheekbones, but then shegavealaughingbow.Everyone at the table

cheeredasshemadeherway

back. “Thank you, thankyou,” she said. “Noautographs,please.”Jon laced his fingers

through hers when shereturned to her chair. “Notbadforanewbie.”“In elementary school I

wasinthechurchchoir.”Not for high school,

though.Hefinallyknewwhatshe’d spent those teenageyears doing. But she wasn’tpoor, lost Heather anymore.

She’d recreated herself intosomeone completelyindependent. Why couldn’tsheseethat?“Hey, Tin Tin,” Leah

called. “Don’t think we’vemissedthatit’syourturn.”“Really.” Heather’s smile

wasa teasingcurve.“It’snotfair to make me go when Ihaven’twatchedyou.”He leaned close enough to

whisper inherear.Silkyhairbrushedhischeek.“Whatare

youwilling to do forme if Ido?”She drew back. They

lookedoneanotherintheeye.“This time?” Her throatworked over a swallow.“Nothing.”He traced thedelicate skin

of her jaw. No dares? Hehardlyknewwhattomakeofthat.Was she finally invitinghimin?“Nokissy-face,”Leahsaid

with a groan. “You guys

promised.IfIcameoutasthefifthwheel,therewouldbenokissy-faceallowed.”The half-kidding, half-

serious quip was enough todissolve the thick tensionbetweenhimandHeather.Heleaned away from Heather,hooking his elbow over thebackofhischair.“Iknowfora damned fact that I did notsay kissy-face. I can’tremember those wordscoming out of my mouth.

Ever.”“You just did, Dimples.”

Ryan tucked his chin overCass’sshoulder.“Iheardit.”Jon mock saluted with his

tumbler. “I’ll remember thatone, Fang. Don’t think Iwon’t.”Leahknockedonthetable.

“I call this meeting of theflying jackass society toorder. First order of businessisTinTinsinging.”“I second the motion.”

Heather’s pale eyes glitteredwithmirth.Gathering a semblance of

dignity, Leah noddedsolemnly. “First motionpasses.Secondishissong.”“Hey,now,”Jonsaid.“No

onevoted.”Ryan laughed. “Trust me,

yousingingisagiven.”Jon flipped him off, but

there was no menace behindit. Just long years ofcamaraderie and taking care

ofeachother.“I say INXS,” Cass said.

“Vintageeightiescheese.”“Noway.”Jonhadbeenup

there before, plenty of times.Tons. But he’d never letanyonepickthesongforhim.“Notevenclose.”“Yes,”Heatheragreedwith

laughterinhervoice.“Maybe‘Need You Tonight’? Forme?That’ssomethingI’dpaygoodmoneytosee.”Aw,hell.Likehecouldget

outofthatone.“Fine,”hegrumbled.Before he headed up to

plug in the song,he caressedthe back of Heather’s neck.The kiss he stole was longand slow. Passing betweentheir lips was a measure oftenderness he hadn’t feltbefore.Withanywoman.Drawing back, he

fashioned one of his mostdedicated smiles—theonehewore when he thought about

her taste. “Sit back, Ms.Morris.You’re going to lovethis.”

ChapterThirty-Five

Jontooktothesmallstagewithhis trademarkslow-burncool. Dressed almost asplainlyashehadatthediner,he wore classic-fit jeans, aplainwhiteT-shirtandapairof Doc Marten boots.Everything about him, fromhiscasualposturetohissmug

grin, said this was no bigdeal. She knew better. Forevery measured move, heconcealed a hundred genuineimpulses.Nervousness twined with

anticipation. She didn’t justwanthimtosing;shewantedhimtobefantastic.A thumping chant of “Tin

Tin”swelledfromallaround.Ryan, Cass, Leah, and adozenotherpatrons,possiblymore off-duty airmen,

whistled and shouted along.Heather only clasped herhands around her knees tostoptheirjitters.The instrumental track

started up, and so did herpulse. That distinctive guitarriff ripped out from thespeakers as Jon nodded intime. His wide grin reachedoutfromthestagetofindher.Striking a pose, he started

intotheslinky,soulful lyrics.Hedidn’thavethebestvoice

on the planet, but hewas byno means horrible. A winkhere,apoint there,heplayedto a crowd that obviouslyexpected him to take thewholethingasajoke.Heather laughed along, as

everyonedid,knowingwhatagood sport he was being.Only twenty-six years old,he’dprobablybeenindiaperswhen the song debuted,which just made her headhurt.

Somewhere after the firstchorus, he changed. Subtly.Gracefully. Heather couldn’tname the moment when hebegantakingitseriously.Sheonlyfelt itonherskin,heardit as the bar noise calmed.Hootsandshoutswentsilent,as did the drunken sing-alongs.Jon’splayfulgesturesfell away, revealing aperformance as earnest andsexyasthesong.After he’d claimed

everyone’s attention, hefound Heather in the crowd.Hiseyes flashedmischievousheat.Everyword seeped intoher skin. Raw. Sweat. Need.Theneventhatawarenessslidaway as Jon closed his eyes.He gave himself over to theexperience.And owned every minute

ofit.The bar shouted and

applauded at the song’s end.Jonmadepeacesignswithhis

fingers and kissed them, butthe return of his devil-may-carepersonawasadeliberateruse. Nothing to see here,people. Don’t look at howmuch he’d given, howmuchhe wanted to be appreciatedasthebest.Heather saw it all. His

performance left her flushedand quaking with the crazyenergy of a deep, delicioussecret.“Ryan,” she said, tapping

the officer’s shoulder. “Is healwayslikethat?”“Every time, the foul-

mindedcherub.”“You’re just jealous,

Fang,” Jon said, jogging thefew steps down from thestage.“Admit it.Mykaraokebringsthechickstotheyard.”Leah laughed. “Watch it,

dork, or ‘Milkshake’ will beyournextassignment.”“Bringiton.”He flopped into his chair.

Sweaty,a littlebreathless,heslid Heather a look. Shecaught it—the expectation.Heropinionmattered tohim.Inthis,apparently,hewasnotone hundred percent sure ofhimself, unlike flying andsex.She closed the distance

betweenthem.Withonehandhigh on his inner thigh, shekissed his temple. “You turnmeonwhenyoumeanit.”Jon blinked twice before

blanking his surprise. “Gladyouenjoyedit,Ms.Morris.”She didn’t know whether

tobethankfulordisappointedwhen Cass broke the mood.“You’re next, Ryan,” shesaid. “Get your fine butt upthere.”“Oh, c’mon. You know I

suck.”“TMI,” Leah said. “Please

respect my delicatesensibilities.”Ryan laughed. “I would if

youhadany.”Heather observed the

exchanges with a sense oflonging that no longersurprised her. Their historywas fascinating, just as shewonderedifshecouldeverfitinsowell.Theyheldnothingback from one another—theinsults, the laughter, thecamaraderie. Such opennesswas as enticing as it wasrisky.She glanced toward her

flyboy, who was busyflickingmini pretzels, one ata time,at thebackofRyan’shead. Jon laughed, full anddeep, as if showing off hisdimples on purpose. Hissmile held no pretense, andevenhiscraftedcalmslippedto reveal the young maninside.“Come off it, Fang.” Jon

flicked another pretzel,completely unaware of howhard he was flipping her

world. “You’re not gettingout of singing again. You’renobetterthantherestofus.”“Says the captain to the

major.”“Bite me, Major Haverty,

sir.”Leah finished the last of

hersodaandcrunchedan icecube. “If you make meconvene another jackassmeeting,I’ll findagavelandbringthepain.”“Princess, I never knew

youwentfortheroughstuff,”Jonsaid.Sheflippedhimoff.“Come on, Ryan.” Cass

stoodfromhislapandtuggedhis hand. “For me? Please?I’llbeyourgroupie.”Jon choked on a hard

laugh. Leah only shook herhead, eyes rolling to theceiling.ButRyan took to thestage with unexpectedresolve. His version ofSpringsteen’s “Born to Run”

was terrible—just terrible.Their table cheered anyway,like children on the last dayofschool.An hour later, Heather’s

earswereringingas they leftPaulie’s. She desperatelywanted to be alonewith Jon,if only to see which of herpinging emotions becamereality.Cass nodded toward the

hot pink motorcycle Leahclimbedonto.“Isthatnew?”

Leah grimaced as shefastened a matching helmet.“Nah. It’s just hard to ridewithyourheadbetweenyourknees. Nighty-night, kissy-faces.”With that she gunned the

bike. Parking lot gravelsprayed out from the rearwheel as she sped onto theroad. The men shouted theirapproval like a rallying warcry. After a few moregoodbyes, Ryan and Cass

hurried off to their truck,laughing,theirhandsclasped.Heather came up behind

Jon and folded her armsaround his lean middle. “Agood night,” she said againsthisshoulder.“Yeah, a really good

night.” He glanced back.“Youweregreatonstage.Theold blues tunes fit yourvoice.”“Myvoice?”He turned, his hands low

on her hips. “Very LaurenBacall, all lowandsexy.ButIdon’tthinkyouevenrealizeit,doyou?”“Neverthoughtaboutit.”God,hestillterrifiedher—

his keen mind and uncannyabilitytodissecteverydetail.She’d enjoyed Jon beingsincere onstage because thathad been about looking intohim. To have that samesincerity turned full-force onher was something she’d

neverbeabletostand.Being with him had come

to mean too much. Impulsesricocheted between her heartandherbrain.“Come on,” he said. “You

lookbeat.”The DBS waited like a

panther in shadow. Jonclicked his key fob to openthelocks,thenusheredherin.They sat side by side, silentfor a moment. Heatherrecalled the peace and

warmth she’d enjoyed uponwaking up in his arms. Shewantedthatagain.Even more, their last

sexual encounter—after theAir Force ball—had becomea dark space in her mind.Theyshouldn’thaveended itthatway.Aftera showerandanotherquickieupagainstthebathroom wall, they’d calledit a night. The bed, stillperfectlymade, hadnot evenbeen touched. Memories of

one of the best sexualencountersofherlifenowlefthercold.That eveningcontrasted so

strongly with Friday, whenhe’d taken her to the clinicandmadeherdrinkGatorade.Fromthestart,hisunexpectedtenderness rubbed at all herinsecurities. What did hewantfromher?Whatdidshewant from him, them,herself?Shewantedmore.

Thewords flared bright inherbrain,thenfilledherwitha happy calm. “So, homethen?”“What are you asking,

Heather love?” His faceremained in profile, with hishandonthegearshift.Shelaidhersoverit.“Will

youstaywithmetonight?Allnight?”After a tight nod and a

slow exhalation, he gave herhand a squeeze.His side-eye

grinmadeeverythingokay.He revved that killer

engine and powered theconvertibletop.Thecityspedby in a blur of neon andblack.Heathersettledintothesumptuous leather seat, herhand on Jon’s thigh. Themoment was, as always,sexually charged, butsomething deeper had takenover. She’d seen behind hismask. He had permittedentrance to a very exclusive

sanctuary. The urge toreciprocate loosened herlimbs and eased herbreathing.Jon pulled into her

driveway and met her at thepassenger door. He gatheredher into his embrace. Theysimply held one another inthe quiet. Heather’s heartrushedandthumped.“Thank you.” She looked

intohiseyes.“Icanseewhytheymeansomuchtoyou.”

“They make it easy tocare.”He ledherup to theporch

of her house then followedher in the front door. Thelightswere out. She took hishandtoguidehimthroughthedarkened rooms. Theintimacy between them wasthick and slow, all honey-sweet.They undressed one

another in her bedroom. Thestreetlamp shone silver on

their skin as they revealedeachbareinch.Apowerbuiltbetween them unlike anythey’d shared.Shewanted toshyawaywithasexyteaseonher tongue. Jon never gaveher the chance.He smoothedevery shiver with his palms,caught every unformedprotestwithhiswarmlips.Until she didn’t want to

protest anymore. Only…behis.The gentle pressure of his

handsonhershoulderseasedher onto the edge of themattress. He knelt, his eyeslifted. Breathing becameimpossibleassherealizedthetruth. Just like that momentonstage,hemeantitthistime.No dares. No masks andinnuendo. Just Jon and howmuchhewantedher.Shewas in lovewith him.

Somuch.With her heart beating

furiously, and not knowing

what else to do, she gave alittlenod.He spread her knees with

infinite slowness and cuppedhis handsbeneathher thighs.The hot brush of his breathtouched her first, then thetender,deliciousstrokeofhistongue.Thepatientsweetnessofhislips.Theflexingcaressof his trembling fingertips.Heather forced herself to bejustasgentleasshepettedtheraspinghairalongthebackof

hishead.Arousal built and built,

with no end in sight. Therewas no hurry. No control tobewrestedfromoneanother.Jon leaned her back on thebed,andhiskisstastedofherown body. They learned oneanother by feel and sound.The smallest gasp became aguidepost—more of that—while each caress radiatedbetweenthemlikeashimmeroflight.

Jonfoundacondombeforelevering above her. Classicmissionary, just man overwoman. Sharp shadowsdefined the muscles of hisarms and chest. Heather slidher hands up, slowly up, tocup his shoulders. With hisrespirationlabored,hepusheddeepand filledher.Two lowmoanstwinedtogether.No matter the almost

reverent foreplay, theirpassion would not be polite.

Jon’s lean hips surged. Herslick softness yielded towhere he was so hard, soeager. She pulled him close,herfingerssplayeddownpastthosetwindivotsathislowerback. He braced his weighton his elbows. Sweat-slickedchests pressed flush. Everyslow groaning thrust rubbedhernipplesagainsthisskin.Heather let her eyes close,

lost to him. She crisscrossedher ankles around his ass,

feeling it clench with eachforceful push.The rhythmofdesire and emotion that hadintensifiedallnightbecameabeatinherblood.“I need you, my lovely

girl,”hewhispered.“I’m righthere, Jon.Right

here.”His mouth found hers, as

intimate as where their hipsmet. Tongues slipped andpressed. Tight breath burstagainst her cheeks. With his

hand at her breast, he droveher higher. Faster now.Endless grinding pulsesweretheirstoshare.When release shimmered

over Heather in a long, hotshudder, he was there at hermouth, kissing, drinking inhersounds.Hetensedononelast deep thrust. His gaspingexhalation was her gift tokeep.Long after Jon had

sprawledacrossherbelly,fast

asleep, Heather stared at thepatterns made by headlightsacrosstheceiling.Icandothis.She could give herself to

thisincredibleman—themanshe loved. But even asHeather languidlystrokedhiswarm, muscular back, herrestless mind repeated thephrase. Over and over.Keepingherawake.Icandothis.Notoncedidshebelieveit.

ChapterThirty-Six

By Friday afternoon, evensix straight hours ofmaintenance checks couldn’tdim Jon’s mood. The flightcrew was on the top of itsgame and had his planerunning smoother than ever.When Ryan suggested theyallgohomeearly,Jonwasn’t

about to say no. He leftwithout even taking time togive his friends their dailyrationofsmartasscomments.The only thing better than

an unexpected afternoon offwassomeonetoshareitwith.He’d have to conjure somefast-talking to getHeather toleave early, but he had aninside track now. Somethinghad shifted when she’d beensick. Or maybe afterward, atthe karaoke bar and when

she’d invited him to stay thenight.He made a swift stop by

his condo to wash up andchange out of his flight suit.Another stop at his favoritebistro meant lunch in hand.His Aston seemed to purrwith anticipation as he drovetoward Heather’s office.Takeout bags dangling fromhisfingers,Jonheldopentheplate-glass doors to herbuildingandallowedanolder

womantoenterfirst.The reception area was

swanky. His mother andfather would have beenproud.A touch of Southwestwas apparent in the palewood with purple and bluepaintings, but not enough tobetacky.Aseatingareatotheright was situated under alargebankofwindowswithaprimo view of the city. Ablondereceptionistsatbehinda large desk of highly

polisheddriftwoodtoppedbyglass.“CanIhelpyou?”Jon smiled. “I certainly

hope so. I’mhere to seeMs.Morris. My name’s JonCarlisle.”“Issheexpectingyou?”His smile only widened.

“No,she’snot.”“I’llseeifshe’savailable.”

Touching two fingers to thewireless headset tucked overher ear, she clicked numbers

into a keypad. After a fewquietwords, she returned hissmile. “You can go right in.Topfloor.”As the elevator swept him

up, Jon whistled under hisbreath. The shining brasswalls reflected his image.Damn, his smile verged onsappy.It’dbeembarrassingifhedidn’tcarrythememoryofWednesday night: thetremulous cast of Heather’ssilver-shaded mouth when

she told him she was there.Righttherewithhim.Her office was at the far

endof thehallway.Thedoorstood open. A gold-toneplaque affixed beside it readHeather Morris, AssistantDirector. Shemust be proudofthattitlenexttohername.He was damn proud of her.She was a smart womanwho’d earned every inch oftherespectshegarnered.Even seeing her sitting

behind her large desk gavehimathrill.Hercharcoalsuitjacketwas almostmilitaristicwith its stand-up collar andsilverbutton fobs.Theofficewas also impressive.A largebank of shelves to one sidehadbeenfilledwithcompanyandpersonalawards.Thedarkwooddeskwould

concealanymultitudeofsins.If he knelt between her legs,he could lick her pussy untilshe came without anyone

being the wiser. He cravedhertastemorethanhewantedlunch.She pressed her palms flat

against the polished surfaceand stood. “Jon,” she saidslowly. “What are you doinghere?”He quietly shut the door.

Thetakeoutplunkeddownonthe corner of her desk, rightnext to a crystal awardinscribed with her name. “Ibrought you Italian. Figured

ifIeatittoo,youwon’tthinkit’slacedwithsalmonella.”“That’ssweetofyou.”But

her smile had gone wary.Again.He’d assumed they were

past that. Then again, he’dnever been to her office,much less uninvited. He’dtaken a risk. Regardinganythingbeyondher sex life,Heather didn’t take well torisks. He could sympathize,butheno longerwanted it to

beanissuebetweenthem.Easing around to her side,

he tucked two fingers underthehemofher jacket. “Trustme,Ms.Morris.Ihadulteriormotives.”“Oh,didyou?”Hemade a quiet sound of

agreement as he tugged hernear. She’d loosely woundher hair into a knot at theback of her head. It held thesweetly sultry scent he’dcome to associate with her.

He gently kissed her neck,gratified when she curvedundertheattention.“Remember the first time

youcalledme?”Sheswallowedtightly.“Of

course.”“Do you know what I

remember about that call?”He trailed a soft touch alongthefrontplacketofherjacket,circling each silver buttonclasp. His fingertips sweptdownandunderherbreasts.

Her shoulders tensed. “IbetIdo.”Hesmiledasifputtingona

mask. Something was offabouthertoday.“Irememberthe quiet, breathy sounds ofyoucominginmyear.”A shudder took her over.

She slanted her gaze towardhim.Alickalongherbottomlip left aglazeof salivaoverherso-properlipstick.He caught the hem of her

tailoredskirt.“Wanttotryfor

areplay?”“I…” Her voice had gone

huskyandbreathyatthesametime. “Jon, this is myoffice…”A sweet flush of coffee

sugaredher lips.Hekissed itaway, delving deep with histongue. Her fingers clenchedhis button-down shirt. Henestled his growing hard-onagainstthetopsofherthighs.Shepulledbackandshook

her head so hard that a dark

lock of hair slid free. “Ishouldn’t.Not…now.”Deep down, a twinge of

frustration lurked in his gut.“Thenwe’lleatasItrytotalkyouintoplayinghooky.”Shelaughed,stillsounding

fairly tense. “I don’t think Ican do that, either. Thequarterly reports for theWynn are due in two daysandItookthattimeoffwhenIwassick.”“You’d be surprised at

what Ican talkyou into,Ms.Morris.” He slanted her animpish smile as he laid outthe cartons, flicked off thecovers and stacked themneatlybackintheplasticbag.Heathereasedintoherseat.

“Plastic silverware? You’reslumming it a bit, aren’tyou?”“One makes do how one

must.” He drew the visitor’schair up to the other side ofthe desk and sat down.

“There’s an exhibit at theHungerford Gallery that’squiteremarkable.WhereCassworks.”“What?” She paused in

swirlingupaforkfulofpasta.“WhenIgetyoutoleave.”

Hehitchedonefootuponhisknee, takeout carton in hishand.“Inaboutahalfhour,Ithink.We’llgotothegallery,and then back to your place.Once there, I plan on lickingyou from head to toe until

you’ve come. Two or threetimes.”Her fork clattered quietly

against the tinfoil box. Sheleaned forward, sucking herplumpbottomlipbetweenherteeth. “Is that gallery openlate?”“Untilseven.”“So we could go later?

Afterward?”This time his smile came

fromsomewheredeep inside.Foraminutethere,he’dbeen

worried.“Wecertainlycould.”The door swung open

beforetheycouldpackupthefood.Anolderguywithsalt-and-pepper hair stuck hishead through. He smiledgenially.“Oh,sorry,Heather.I didn’t realize you hadanyone in here. Am Iinterrupting?”Jon waited four heartbeats

for her to introduce him.Maybe not as her boyfriend.

They weren’t so much thattype of people, but assomething. A friend. Hell,evenhisnamewoulddo.She only shook her head.

“Notatall.”“Are you going to be at

Mr. Quinn’s tomorrownight?”She’d straightened her

shoulders—drawn back untilshewas a stiff board againsther big leather chair. Shethrewoutasmilethatseemed

likeapictureofapictureofareal one—grainy, now, andoverly shiny. “Of course,Grant.”“Stupid question, yeah?”

Grant laughed. Lines fannedout from the corners of hiseyes and scored around hismouth. “Who wouldn’t begoing to the company’sanniversaryparty?”She dug the end of the

plastic fork under herthumbnail.“NooneIknow.”

ExceptJon.Because she hadn’t

mentionedit.Hismusclesturnedtorock

under cold skin. Since hisstomach had crunched downinto a tiny pebble, he tossedhis pancetta onto her desk.Her gaze flew to him,begging him for something.He couldn’t begin to guesswhat.Grant edged farther into

the room. “Rumor has itMr.

Quinn will make hisannouncement about who’sgetting the promotion todirector.You’ve got it in thebag,Heather.”“You’lljinxme.”“Do you have a ride yet?

BecauseIcouldpickyouup.I’dloveto,actually.”Jon lifted an eyebrow,

expectingHeather to turn theoffer down flat. Instead shelooked at her food. Shepusheditaway.

Shit.He’d sworn he would

never be here again, beggingfor attention from someonewho didn’t have it to give.He’d been a kid then.Defenseless. Now it wasdifferent. He retreated deepinside himself, sliding backalong years of training—years of not giving a damn.The smile he aimed atHeatherfeltwolfish.Grant flicked his gaze

between them, perhapsnoticing the sudden chill.“Um, maybe I’ll come backlater.”“Oh, by all means,” Jon

said, waving a hand. “Don’tlet me bother you. Heather,do you need a ride to thecompanyparty?”Hercheekswentpale.The

vein that dipped into thehollow of her neck flutteredwildly. “No, thank you,Grant.” Although she spoke

to the otherman, she lookeddirectly at Jon. “I wasplanningtodrivemyself.”“That’s good.” Grant’s

disappointment wasimpossibletomiss.“I’ll…I’llseeyoulater,then.”Neither Jon nor Heather

sawthedoorclose.Bothwerelocked too intently on oneanother. A quiet snick wastheonlyheraldthattheywerealone.Heather let loose first.

“You didn’t even lock thedoorbeforeyoutriedtogetinmypants?”Sheputherhandsto work sliding a white lidback over her carton andcrimpingtheedgesshut.“I’d have locked it if

needed, Ms. Morris.” Hewhippedout thewords likeaharsh coil. “Don’t try todistract me. Company party,isit?”She nodded slowly, as if

her neck had broken in

increments.“Yearlything.AttheCEO’shouse.”“And you didn’t inviteme

because…?”Her hands dropped out of

sight, beneath the table. “Ididn’tthinkyou’dwanttogo.It’sboring.Alwaysis.”“I seem to remember

making a similar argumentabout the ball,” he saidcoolly. “What about thispromotion?”“Weeks of speculation.

Nothingmore.”“You’ve known it was a

possibility for weeks anddidn’tsayaword?What,youdon’tgiveadamnaboutabigpromotion?”“I do. I just didn’t want

to…” Her movementsbecame jerky as she wentbacktocleaningupthelunchneither of them intended toeat. “You know what? Fine.Goodforyou.JonCarlisle isright again. I didn’t say

anythingbecauseIwastryingto keep you separate fromwork. I wasn’t sure whatwouldhappen.Happy?”Fuck, he was ice. All the

waydowntohisbones.“I’m a goddamned officer

in the United States AirForce,”hesaid.“Icomefrommoney, and you know goodandwell I canhandlemyselfin company. So this is allyou, Heather love. What thehellisyourproblem?”

ChapterThirty-Seven

“Myproblem?”Heather’s head throbbed.

Her face had gone hot themoment Jon arrived, and shehadn’t been able to recover.Thepartofhertouchedbyhisthoughtfulness had beenoverruled.“WhatifGranthadwalked

inonus?”“Oh, I don’t know,” Jon

said with a sneer. “Had youintroduced me, he might’veputtwoandtwotogether.”“Introduced you as what,

exactly?”“Takeyourpick,Heather.I

can be the guy who broughtyou lunch. Or the guy whomakes you fucking shatterwhenyoucome.”She glanced toward her

closedofficedoor.“Willyou

pleasekeepitdown?”“Horseshit.”“See?ThisiswhatImeant

all along!” After tapping apencil against the desk in ananxious rhythm, she forcedherselftostop.Theborderlinehysteria in her voice had togo. “You come in here andact likemy life doesn’t haveanyfoundation.”“Ifyou’dletmeinfor just

a goddamn minute, I mightlearn what that means.

Forgivemeforhavingtroubleinterpreting your mixedsignals.”“You’reexaggerating,”she

said,forcingthewordsout.He leaned forward in the

chair and ticked a list off onhis fingers. “Let’s see. Youcan tease me within an inchof my commission, but yousureashell don’t trustme tokeep my dick in my pantsaroundyourboss.Youliketohang with my friends, but

God forbid you want to seewhere I live.Anddon’t evenget me started on yourfucking career. I guess apervert likemeisonlyfitforanonymoushotelrooms?”“You think you can smile

your way in here and, what,assume I’d shove you underthe desk to grab some quickhead?”Hiseyesflickedaway.“You did! Oh, God.”

Heather stood from thedesk.

The graphite dug into herthumb, but she only presseddeeper. “You have somenerve,Jon.Really.Maybeit’syourmoneyor your ego, butyou assume the world justbends to what you want.Believeme,noteveryonecanwalkthroughlifethatway.”“Right,becauseI’mgetting

exactly what I want rightnow. I love going inunprepared against anopponent I didn’t evenknow

Ihad.”“Whatopponent?”“What’s-his-fuck Grant.

Areyousleepingwithhim?”Faceonfire,Heathercould

only gape. His words hadbecome rougher and tighter,but Jon—the arrogant youngplayboy she’d met in July—was practically lounging onhischair.Hewasasunknownto her as that long-agostranger.Hisfamiliarfeatureshad buckled around a deep

scowl.“No, maybe not yet.” His

scowl warped into a cruelsmile.“Butmaybeyou’vegotplans for him? A littlevariety,isit?”“You’rebeingabsurd.”“AmI?Comeon,then,”he

said, standing. “Let’s go gethim. I’m sure he’d take timeoffforathreesome.”“Yousicklittleshit.”“We’d better go to your

place, though. You don’t

even knowwhere my condois. I’ll even give him firstchoice. Christ knows I’velearned to be satisfied withlessthanallofyou.”“That’snot fair! Not even

close! You act like we wereevergoingtobeanythingbutagoodtime.”“Are you having a good

time?”He lookedherupanddown. “Because all I’ve gotleft iswondering ifyouhaveanylimits.”

“You see what happens? Iopen up a tiny bit of myselfandyouuseitagainstme.”“What? Do you think this

hasanything todowithwhatyoudidasakid?”She froze, toe-to-toe with

him. “Why not? That’s whatyou’rethinking.Someguyinuniform drove me to Jerseyand I lethis friendscrawlalloverme.Mustbethekindofgirl I am underneath all this,right?Boundtohappenagain

fortherightsweet-talker.”“Ifyou’recomparingmeto

that jerk-off punk,” he saidwith clipped syllables, “thenwe’re not getting out of thisone.”“Maybe that’s for the

best.”Her rusted joints creaked

as she forcedherself tocrossto the office door. Outsidetherewouldbecuriousstaresand reproachful glances.Unavoidable now. They’d

been too loud. There wouldbenohidingthis.“You’ve been looking for

itallthistime,Jon,”shesaid,opening the door. “So here’syourpanda.I’mdone.”“Fine. I’m used to having

it your way.” There in thedoorway, in front ofeveryone, he stared down ather.Foramomentshecaughtaflickerofsomethingraggedin his dark gaze, before heshuffleditaway.“ButIwant

you to do something for mewhenyougethome.”Heathertightenedherdeath

grip on the doorknob. “Nothere.Don’tyoudare—”“Oh,nothinglikethat,Ms.

Morris. I’ve think we’vealready done enough toembarrassyou.”He leaned close, forcing

his warmth and his scent onher. Heather swallowed astingoftears.“Iwantyou to thinkabout

all the times you trusted mewith your body. Everythingwedidandall thatmadeyoucurious. Ask yourself why Inever took more than youwantedtogive,andhowhardI tried to get it right.” Hepulled back. The naked painin his honey-brown eyesshockedhertohersoul.“Youthinkaboutthat,andthenyoutry to look yourself in themirror.”She stood stiff, numb,

rigid,asJonstalkedaway.Hecame to the end of thecorridor and drew up short.With a rasping growl, heslammedhisfistintothewall.Heather flinched. Tearssmeared down her cheeks ashe disappeared out of sight.Her hands wouldn’t stopshaking.“Heather?”Her skin shriveled. She

turned to find Mr. Quinn.“Sir?”

“I think you should take afew days, don’t you? Kyle’saccounts are up to date. Hecan finish up your numbersontheWynn.”“Mr.Quinn,I—”Heshookhishead,silently

cutting off her protest. “Justtakesometime.”Everything she’d worked

for…allintatters.And for what? Jon was

gone and her heart wasbreaking.

Heathernoddedstiffly.Theeyesoftheofficeburnedintoherbackas she turnedaway.She threw the Italian foodinto the garbage bin as herstomach knotted around thatcooledstench.Evenassheshutdownher

computer, she couldn’t stopfighting tomakesenseof thegrenade thrown into herafternoon. Jon had just beenthere. He’d brought herlunch.He’d kissed her. They

weresupposedtogotoCass’sgalleryfortheafternoon.Nottobe.Anyofit.She found herself looking

around in the vain hope hemight have left somethingbehind.Justalittlesomethingof him, of them, that wasn’ttainted.Wipingherflushedcheeks,

she closed the office doorbehind her. Conversationsstopped as she did. Heatherno longer cared. The worst

hadalreadyhappened.

That evening, she stood inthe shower and let thesteaming water scald herback. For minutes andminutes, she pressed herforehead against the tile.Didn’t wash. Didn’t shave.Juststoodthere.Her months with Jon

becameamovieshecouldn’tstop rewatching.Asmuch as

shedidn’twant todoashe’dasked, she pictured everyaudaciousencounterandeachmoment when she’d placedhertrustinhishands.Notonce—notoncehadhe

letherdown.Instead he’d given her a

hundredlittlegifts.Hiscaringand wicked humor, hisrestraint and daring. Hisunexpected laughter stillteased in her ears when hedropped all of his disguises.

With Jon she’d rewritten herown wild history, learningherself in ways she hadn’tbelievedpossible.A fierce trembling took

hold of her hands, so thatturning off thewater becamea challenge. The faucetdripped its last in a quietpatter. She opened the glassdoor and groped for a towel.When she swiped away thecondensation on the mirror,shecouldn’tlifthereyes.She

alreadyknewwhatshe’dfindthere:ascaredwomanwho’dletagoodmandown.The last time she’d been

unable to face herself, she’dbeen a terrified teenager in asleazyhotel.Andshe’dcalledher father. Before she couldsecond-guess, Heathergrabbed her BlackBerry andcrawledontoherbed.Shehitthe speed dial. Three longrings had her silentlybegging.

Please,pleasepickup.“Hello?”Heather closed her eyes in

relief.“Hey,Dad.”“Heather, honey. Wasn’t

expectingtohearfromyou.”She swallowed. “Just

wanted to say hi.Where areyouguys?”“NovaScotia.”“InCanada?Whendidyou

gettoCanada?”“Early last week. The

leaves in New Englandwere

gorgeous, and then we justkeptdrivingnorth.”“What’sitlikethere?”“Chilly tonight. We’re

looking out over the ocean.”She liked the sound of hisvoice, almost peaceful.Draggingitinsideherfeveredmind was a quiet medicine.“We might settle here if werun out of travel money. Bebeachbums.”Sheflinched.Yearsofhard

work had earned her the

privilege of taking care ofthem—paying them back.She didn’t feel like acompetent,successfulwomannow. “You won’t run out ofmoney. You know I don’ttake my eyes off youraccounts.”“I know, I know. Just

teasing.” He paused. Thelong-distance crackle filledherear.“Heather,areyouallright? You don’t soundgood.”

The sob she’d held backfor hours broke free. “Dad, IthinkImessedup.Bad.”“Areyouhurt?Heather?”“No, no—I, well, I am

hurting. But I gave a lotworsethanIgot.”“You’re gonna have to fill

mein,baby.”Swallowing another sob at

his endearment, she wipedher eyes. “I met a man inJuly.He’s anAirForce pilothereatNellis.Young.Smart.

But…it wasn’t supposed togetserious.”Her father offered a

sympathetic chuckle. “Itrarely starts out serious.Andyougotscared?”So scared. Scared to trust

whathadseemedforweekstobetoogood,tooperfect.“Yeah,Idid.”“Ifhe’sworthadamn,then

hewastoo.”Heather smiled despite

herself. “I can’t imagine

that.”“Oh, believe it. Nothing

more scared on this planetthanaguywhohasitbad.”She closed her eyes again,

remembering the timeswhenshe’d seen Jonwatching her,that expectant look on hisface. Never anything overt.Just a certain…waiting.Howlong had he wanted to taketheir relationship deeper?How long had herdeterminationtokeepitcrazy

andcarefreesilencedhim?Yet, he’d never said a

word. Silent, matching fearshadamplifieduntilnothingofthemremained.Her throat constricted.

“Dad,whatdoIdo?”Hewassilentagain,longer

thistime.Wethairwasgivingher goose bumps, so shecrawledunderthecovers.“Honey,youhavetoknow

somethingaboutmen.Youngmen. Maybe military men

mostofall.Ourpridecanbeahelluvathing.”Hesaidthatlast with another ruefulchuckle. “If you’ve hurt hispride,you’regoingtohavetogive him more than anapology.He’llneeda leapoffaith.You just gotta hope hecatchesyou.”Heather’s heart stuttered.

She wouldn’t have doubtedJon before that afternoon.Now she had even more tofear. The idea of opening

herself up to a cold, remotestranger,withhisemotionsindeep-freeze,madehershake.“But do me a favor,

Heather?”“Anything.”“Don’ttellmeifhescrews

up,okay?Idon’twannahavetoleaveyourmominCanadasoIcanbrainsomedumb-assthrottlejockey.”Laughing softly—a break

in the tension—she rubbedher wet nose on the sheet.

“You’ve held yourself backfromwailingonworseguys.”“You know, I’d do

anythingtosaveyousomeofthepainyou’vegrabbedholdof through the years, but Ican’tbringmyselftowishforit. I’m too proud of thewomanyou’vebecome.”She buried her face in her

pillow.“Just be easy on that girl

youwere,”hesaid.“Iwasn’tmucholderthanyouarenow

when we got through thattime.Hopefullywe’re both alotwiserforit.”She found herself nodding

and shaking her head both.Theideathatherdadtookonboard some of the blame forherwildyearswasalmosttoomuch.Buthewasright—theywerebothstrongerandwiser,calmer with one another.Maybeshe’dbeenhangingontootightlyfortoolong.“You’dlikehim,Dad,”she

said with a sniffle. “You’dthinkhewas an arrogant sonof a bitch, but you’d likehim.”“Iwon’tholditagainsthim

that he’s Air Force. Not toomuch.” He sobered then, hisvoice thick with an emotionHeather had rarely heard.“Does he keep you safe,baby?”Heather let the tears flow,

unabletofightthemanymore.No fear. Not here. Just

admitthetruth.“He does, Dad. He really

does.”“Thengogethim.”

ChapterThirty-Eight

The last thing in theworldJonwantedwasahousefulofpeople. But bailing on hismonthly poker game withLeah and Ryan would betantamount to admittingsomething was wrong. Thenwhatwouldhesay?Gee, Heather and I are

doneandIhavenoideawhathappened.The next step would be

tucking his dick between hislegs, buying a carton of icecream and renting BridgetJones’sDiary.Sohe’dopenedhisdoorto

the whole crew, whichincluded Cass for the firsttime.Jonsmiled.Likehealways

did. Layered on charm andjokes. No hint that anything

was chipping him apart fromtheinside.Thatwashisthing.Giving and being there andtreading through shit for it.He’d done it time and againandneverlearnedhisfuckinglesson.Heather’svoicestillhissed

inhisears,callinghimasicklittleshit.Sure,he’ddeservedthat one.Butwhat should hehave done? Begged for whathewanted?Needed.

Wasn’tgonnahappen.Once thepokergamehita

break, he ducked out. Alonein his kitchen, he poured acouple inches of scotch in asquat glass, tossed back aswallowand ignored the finetrembleinhishands.“Youokay,TinTin?”Leah

stood in thedoorway.Seeinga soda dangling from herfingerswas still strange. Sheeven lookedmore in control.Thelongbrownhairscooped

inaponytailwasmuchneaterthanusual.Jon stuck his head in the

fridge as if he really gave adamn whether there wasenough guacamole. “I’mfine.”“Don’tbullshitme.”Why couldn’t he have

gotteninvolvedwithsomeonelike Leah? Not her,specifically, since they’dbeenfriendssolongitwouldbeasdisgustingasbanginga

cousin.Atleastsomeonewhodidn’t have all the mile-highdefenses? Leah lived withevery response out in theopen.Heknewwhy.Becausehe

would’ve been bored insideoffourseconds.He crossed his arms and

leaned against the kitchencounter. The same bloodycounter Heather had neverseen. She couldn’t unclenchenough to risk an encounter

outside of her own territory.He should’ve knownsomethingwasfundamentallybrokenbetweenthem.“IsaidI’mfine.”Leah’s eyes narrowed.

“Youdon’twanttotalkaboutit, that’s cool. But whateverhappened to Mr. I NeverLie?”He downed half his glass.

Theliquidburnedlikelavainhis chest, but nothing couldeasethesickemptinessthere.

“Thatline’seasytopullwhenyoudon’tgiveashit.”ThankChrist,Leahlethim

stalk by without sayinganother word. He couldn’ttake anyofherusual smack-talking.Out in the living room,

he’d set up the green felt-topped poker table in thecenter. Cass and Ryan hadmigrated to the huge plate-glass window with the viewofLasVegasatnight.

Heatherwould’velovedit.They stood with their

fingersintertwined.“Ahellofaplaceyou’vegothere,Jon,”Casssaid.“Sure.”Hefinishedtherest

of his drink. Goddamnedhappy couples werenauseating. “We ready toplay?”They all resumed their

seats.Jonleanedbackasifhedidn’tnoticethewaryglancesthey traded. “Anyone up for

higherstakes?”Ryan shook his head. “No

way, Tin Tin. Your pocketsare way too deep for myblood.”“Fine, chicken out,” he

said, dredging up all thecharmhecouldfind.“You’vegotashitpokerface,anyway.I’dhateifyouhadtotakeoutanallotmenttopayme.”Butahalfhour later, there

was no hiding the way hefrozewhenthedoorbellrang.

His hand twitched on thedeck he’d been dealing.Nothingmovedbuthisgaze.“I thought Dash said he

couldn’tmakeit,”Leahsaid.“Sunny was supposed to

get in from DC thisafternoon.” Ryan scooped ahandful of pretzels. “Maybeshewasdelayed.”“Then I’ve got this.”Leah

hopped up to answer thedoor.Heather stood there, with

one hand tight around herpursestrap.On some level, Jon had

known.The smile he’d forced all

nightslidoffhisface.Onlyacold clench of trepidationremained in his chest…andwayunderneath that,asinglebright flash of hope—tooquicktokill.She looked as beautiful as

always, despite the red thatrimmed her pale blue eyes.

Slim jeans clung to her hips.He’dneverseenherinsuchasimple T-shirt because shenever liked showing her trueself.Thenagain,neitherdidhe.Leah grinned. “Hey,

Heather.Hereforthegame?”Stepping inside, Heather

wound her arms around herstomach.“No.”Even Leah managed to

catch the thick tensionfillingtheair.Hergazeslidbetween

JonandHeather.He forced his hands to

move. Cards flicked outacross the green felt in asmooth arc. “Hello, Heather.Fancy meeting you here. Iknew you could find myplaceifyouputyourmindtoit.”“Can I talk to you? In

private?”“No. Don’t think so.” He

smiled,ignoringhowfuckingpainful it was to resume his

crafted façade. After neatlystacking the rest of the deck,he leaned back. “Anythingyouneedtosaycanbesaidinfrontofmyfriends.”She blinked as if noticing

the others for the first time.Her cheeks hollowed.Resolve flickered across herfeatures and firmed hermouth.“Youwere right,” she said

tightly. “I couldn’t look atmyself in the mirror last

night.Orthismorning.”Jon’s stomach plummeted.

Fuck.Hehadn’twantedtoberight, not when it darkenedher eyes with such nakedpain.Itwasn’tenougheither.Heneededmore.Ryanclappedhishandson

the table and stood. “Allright, that’s it. Our cue toleave.”Cass popped up beside

him. She and Leah collectedtheirpursesas theymade for

the door. Heather barelyshifted, moving aside only astep.Onehandonthedoorjamb,

Casspaused.“Goodluck,youtwo.”Ryan grabbed her by the

waist. “Outta here now,woman.”HepinnedJonwithone last look. “You knowwhereI’llbeifyouneedme.”At least he hadn’t

misplacedhistrustwithsomepeople.

Jonstartedcleaningup themess they’d made of hispoker table, stacking thechips in their case.When heturnedawayfromHeather,heallowedhiseyestoclose.Hedropped his smile. It hadbecome such a relief to quitpretending.“I think we’re going to

need more than luck,” hesaid, biting out the words.“Don’tyou,Heatherlove?”“Can you stop for just a

minute?Lookatme?”He couldn’t. Not without

breaking. He keptstraighteningup,gatheringallthered-patternedcards.Athisbackheheardherstepsasshecrossedthehardwoodfloors.“Isthisyou?”She stood next to his

bookshelves with a framedpicture in her hand.He likedseeing her touching hispossessions.Inhishome.Shelooked right in the

surroundings. He enjoyedfinely made things withclassic beauty. That wasHeather,throughandthrough.But priceless works of artcouldn’tbetouched.“Yes.”“And your sister.” No

question in her soft voice.She trailed a finger over theglass.“Curls,huh?Iwouldn’thave ever pictured you withlong hair. But then, you’vesurprisedmeallalong.”

He clenched the edge ofthe table. The padded rimmeantnothing tobiteagainsthis pain. “Mademe look tooyoung.”She carefully returned the

picture to its place on thebookshelf. Wariness shapedher posture. She walkedslowly toward him. Again,she crisscrossed her armsoverherstomach.“I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so

sorry. For everything. I want

to talk about it. Please? Toend it this way, with ourfight…”Hegrippedthetabletighter

tokeepfromreachingforher.Thetwistedregretonherfacetore him up. “I can’t keepdoingthis.”Aglassysheencoveredher

eyes.“Willyouhearmeout?Letme try?You deserve thetruthfirst.”“I’d have thought I

deserved it from the

beginning.”“You did. You do. But I

didn’t even know what washappening.”Hewavedahand.“Explain

away. You have my fullattention.”She was near enough now

that his bones tried to get toher. He fought his muscles,butnothingpreventedasweetinhalationofherscent.“Iwasusingyou,Jon.”She

didn’t look up at him from

beneath her brows. Not thistime. Instead, her pale blueeyes were wide and direct,lashes damp. Completelyvulnerable. No hint of hisplayful, mischievous, wickedHeather to be found. Just awoman stripped of everydefense.“It wasn’t the way you

probably think,” she said. “Ididn’t likewhat Ididwhen Iwas young and stupid. No,that’s an understatement.

Those years have coloredeverything about me. Iwanted to be successful, torepay the hell I put myparents through. I tried toplayitsafewithguyssothatIwouldn’t lose control. But itwent deeper—so deep that Ididn’tseeituntilnow.”Howmuchlongercouldhe

stand there and look her inthe eye? She was aching,nearly as badly as he. Jonresolved, however, to stand

there forever if that’swhat ittook.Heneededtoheareverysyllableorhe’dneverbeabletogive thiswomanhisheart,no matter how much hewantedto.“Say what you think you

need to,” he said quietly, hisvoice nearly quavering withbottled-upemotion.“I used you to make it

better.”Hefrowned.Andwaited.Nervous, graceful hands

twisted at her waist. “Withyou, I got to do it all overagain. All those crazy years,all the insane things I did.The chances. I loved dares,waybackthen.Anychancetoprove I was fearless. Even acollegepsychmajorcouldseeI was overcompensating.Lashing out. Butwith you…Every step along the way,youmadeold,dirtymemoriesclean again. It wasn’t justbeing stupidly reckless, and

frankly, I don’t think it wasever entirely about sex. Youmade it more. Special.Worthwhile.”Hope was a painful thing,

sharp-edged and wild as ittoreinsidehischest.“So,freepsychotherapy? With bonusorgasms? Guess I should bethankful I happened to meetyouattherighttime.”“No.” She shook her head

frantically.“It’snot like that.It was you all along. Why

else would I have gone withyou that first night? Ourchallenges and risks—youmade me feel safe from thebeginning.Ascrazyasitwas,I never had a doubt you’dtake care ofme. So it got tobe terrifying. I was missingsomething,someflaw. I’dbeproved blind and naïve alloveragain.”Shereleasedherwringingfingerslongenoughtobeginreachingforhim,buthis glare must have stopped

her. “Jon, youmade itwork.Youmademefeelfree.”“That’s ironic, when you

were making me feel prettydamn caged in. Your rules,yourterritory.Only.”A flinch. A nibble to her

lower lip. He’d never seenher so rattled.Yet through itall, her eyes remained direct.She’d never looked at himwithout some hint of teasingorpretense.“That wasn’t my

intention,” she said. “Notconsciously. I kept makingreckless choices with you,sort of…purging them. As agrownwomannow.IthoughtIcouldkeepcontrolthistime—and that meant controllingeverything. Any less and I’dspin out again.” Her wordskept coming in one longstream.“Andallthetime,yougave me everything. EventhingsIdidn’tknowIneeded.You’ve been wonderful.

Through everything. Jon,please…”Hervoicebroke.Atearran

downherpale facewhensheblinked.The clawing inside of him

settled. Only one thingremained true. He couldn’tgiveHeatherup.“Damn it, don’t cry.” He

curled his hands around hercheeks.“Idon’tseemtobeableto

help it. I onlywant you.We

trusted each other with theimpossible,butweenditlikethis? Like scared little kids?We’ve been playing gamesandtakingriskswhenitcouldbe somuchmore.Don’t youfeelit?Ithinkyouhaveforalongtime.I’msosorryIkeptlookingaway.”He swallowed. Might as

wellownuptohisroleinthistrain wreck. “I could havesaid something. Never did.It’s hard to want something

true and strong from peoplewhocan’treturnit.”“Your parents,” she

breathed.“Jesus.Ididthat toyou too.” Her cheeks wereawash with fresh tears. Sky-blue eyes glowed like neon.“Have they ever begged youto forgive them? Becausethat’swhyI’mhere,Jon.I’mbegging you. Please give usanother chance. A realchance.”He closed his eyes.

“They’ve never even seenwhat I needed, let alonebegged.”Pulling their bodiestogether, flushandwarmandright, he breathed the floralscent of her hair. “A realchance,Heatherlove.”The tension in her body

released on a long shudderand another graceless sniffle.She buried her face againsthis shirtfront. She was theonecrying,buttheybothheldon for dear life. Brave. And

sodamnrelieved.“But…”Sheliftedherface

and hesitated. “I don’t wantany of it without you. Justyou.Not…not likewhat yousaidintheoffice.”His angered words about

hercoworkerlodgedbetweenthem—the only thing heregretted about their fight.He’d never been particularlyagainst the idea of bendingrelationship boundaries, butthiswasHeather.Hewanted

heralltohimself.“Ididn’tmeanit.Youhave

to know that. God, sharingyou would make me sick. Iwas…hurting.”Shebrushedakissoverthe

reddened, raw skin of hisknuckles.“Webothwere.”He focused on her mouth

—her lush, tremblingmouth.“But I can’t keep playingthese fuck-fuck games,Heather. It has to be all ornothing.”

Her chest lifted on a fast,silentgasp.“Promise?”Heather Morris had never

been anything less thancaptivating. He’d been goneoverheralongtime,andnowhecouldstaygone.“Yes. If you can promise

mesomethinginreturn.”“I’lltry.Whateveritis.”“Don’tshutmeoutagain.”

He laced his fingers into herhair. “I can’t take it. I needyoutoletmein.”

She pulled their foreheadstogether until skin pinchedagainst skin. A soft pain,uniting them. “You too. Ican’t read your mind. Playhowyouwantwiththeworld.I know I do it too. But nothere. Not with us.” Boldlyshe wound her hands aroundhisback,clenchingtight.Shenuzzled the bare skin at theopennotchofhiscollar.“I’mso sorry. I love you, but Ionlymadeyouhurt.”

Hefroze.“You…?”She nodded. A love he’d

never expected to find shoneclearly from her luminouseyes.Exhaling, he pulled her

moretightlyintohisembrace.His heart thumped. Theglimmeringtracksofhertearswere drying on her cheeks.He kissed them away. Shetastedlikesaltandallhisbestdreams. “I think I’ve beenwaiting for that. Needed to

hear it from you first.BecauseIloveyoutoo.”She looked younger and

happier than he’d ever seen.“That’s… I don’t even knowwhat to say. Amazing. Canwebeamazing?”He grinned and kissed her

lips. Half play. Half hard-earnedemotion. “Wealreadyare.”“So, will you show me

around your place? It’s waypasttimeIsawit.”

The cinched feeling in hischesthad loosened.Thiswaswhere it would start. A realbeginning.“Well,” he drawled. “The

kitchen’sawreck.”“Livingroom?”“You’relookingatit.”“Doyouhaveaden?”Hisgrin tookonadevious

feel.“Toofaraway.”“Whatdoesthatleave?The

bedroom?”“Indeed. Right this way,

Heather love.”Hehookedanarmaroundhershoulderasheled her down the hallway.“So…we were redoing yourhighschoolyears,werewe?”Her cheeks went pink.

“Yes.”That had certain

possibilities. “You know,therewerecertainhighschooleventsImissedoutontoo.”“Surely not, Mr.

Moneybags.”Henodded,buthecouldn’t

keephisexpressionassolemnashemeant.Hewas tooaw-shucks sappy happy. “Forexample,Ineverpasseddirtynotesinclass.”“Wouldtextingcount?”“Wecanimprovise.”Shetwinedherfingerswith

his.“Whatelse?”“Ineverpassedthedutchie

under the bleachers at afootballgame.”“Well, that’s definitely

out.”

“Wait,I’vegotit,”hesaid.“Heather love, how wouldyou like me to tutor you inFrench?”She giggled. Everything

about her expression wasbrightandopen, invitinghimin.Forgood,thistime.“Thatsounds lovely. But I’m notconvinced. What is yourteachingstyle?”He couldn’t stop touching

her. Only touching made itreal. “Hands on,Ms.Morris.

Definitelyhandson.”

Epilogue

After completing hernighttime routine, Heatherturnedoff thebathroom lightand returned to Jon’sbedroom. The polishedhardwood floors were coolagainst her feet. EarlyDecember not only broughtrelief from scorching

temperatures but made forgorgeous evenings. A breezescented with desert sagefiltered in through the openbaywindowwhereJonsat inaleatherrecliner.He was the same man

she’d met during the highheat of July—her earlybirthdaypresent—buthewasnearly as changed as she.Nearly. He wore one of hiscustomarydressshirts,brightwhite, the sleeves rolled to

the middle of his cordedforearms. Jeans tonight. Andbare feet pulled up on theleathercushion.Thebarefeetalwaysgotto

her. An intimacy he sharedwithnooneelse.With his head back on the

recliner, he stared out thewindow.Awistfulhalf-smileshaped his lips. She knewwhat gorgeous depravitythose lips were capable of,which made his peaceful,

faraway expression all themoreendearing.“Jon?”He didn’t shift anything

but his gaze. A slinkysideways glance shiveredanticipation down into herbelly.“Hey.”“Whocalled?”His iPhone lay on the

antique writing desk next tothe recliner. He eyed it withan amusement she didn’tunderstand.“Comesitonmy

lap. It’s been a long day andI’vemissedyourass.”“The ass you slapped last

night?”“Repeatedly? That’s the

one.”Heather smoothed a hand

over the wrists he’d boundwith apair of suspenders thenight before. Her body stillhummedandshook.He patted his knee, his

smile gone from wistful tokinkyinjustafewheartbeats.

She crossed the roomwith asultry sway. Her nipplestightened under one of hisplainwhitecottonT-shirts,inpartbecauseofthebreeze,inpart because of his heatedappreciation.She draped across the

recliner and settled herbackside against his groin.Strongarmscircledherwaist.He dipped his head betweenherbreastsforaquicknuzzle.“You’re trying to distract

me,” she said. “It won’twork.”“Givemeaminute. Ihave

moreideas.”Heatherfoundhisface,her

hands flat on his cheeks.“Whowasonthephone?”He took a deep breath, his

expression sobering. “Mymother.”“Oh?”“They asked if we would

liketoflyoutforChristmas.”Something about his tone

ofvoice,sodazed,madehimseemevenyounger.Astrongprotective impulse took herbysurprise.“Letmeinthere,”shesaid,

rubbingherhandsbackalonghisbuzzedhead.“Itgoesbothways,remember?”He exhaled again, then

appeared tomake a decision.“They’ve never… Fuck it,they’ve never asked before.It’s been an imperialsummonsforaslongasIcan

remember.”“Youwanttogo.”Turningthosedarkeyeson

her,hegrazedhercheekwitha feathery touch. “Maybe.Yes. I do. But only if youcomewithme.”“Jon, would this be us

makingplans?”“I don’t see why not. The

oddshavebeengoodtoussofar.”“Does that make you my

insidebet?”

“Nah, mon amour, I’myoursurething,”hesaidwitha slight smile. Heathertouched his lower lip,overwhelmed,untilhechasedaway the intensity bytonguingherfinger.“Sowhatdo you say? Fly with me toPlanet Hyannis for theholidays?”Sheshouldhavefeltaslice

of panic. What would hisparentsthinkofher?Butthatpanic didn’t come, only a

determinationtobestrongforJon as he accepted thistentativeolivebranch.“I’dlikethat.”“The thing is…” He

inhaled,letitgoslowly.“Sixmonths ago, I might’veignored the call altogether.You’vechangedme,Heatherlove. You said I could bebetter.”“Andnowlookatyou.Just

burstingwithpotential.”Helaughedandtuckedher

againsthischest.“Don’tIgetenough trash-talk at work? Iexpectsugarfromyou.”Heathergiggledagainsthis

throat, kissed him there.“There. Some sugar. Now,aboutthistrip.DoIgettoseeyourbedroomfromwhenyouwereakid?”“With my No Doubt and

ClaudiaSchifferposters?”“Hey, they’re both

blondes.”“ThenIgrewup,”hesaid,

brushing a lock of her hair.“Besides, Mother turned itinto a respectableguestroom.”Heather unfastened one,

two, three buttons. Sheplayfully raked her nailsdown his chest. “Is itsoundproof?”“Hell, no.” His soft laugh

teasedbeneathher fingertips.“Areyougoingtobegood?”“For the sake of family

harmonyandnewbeginnings,

I’ll be quiet. I can’t promisetobegood.”“You’vehadagoodrunof

wall-bangers, you know. Idon’t have much faith youcanholditinanymore.”“That sounds like a dare,

Captain.”“It does, doesn’t it?” His

fingers began to work theirmagic at the apex of herthighs. “Don’t you wonder?Howslowwecouldmakeit?Howquietandtight?”

Liquidwarmthfloodedherpussy. She spread her knees,just slightly, to invite himinside. “Ah, right there,” shewhispered.“We should practice, you

know.”Jonfound thesideofher neck and sucked—thelightest tease.“Otherwisemyneighbors will startcomplaining. TheHomeowner’s Associationwillkickmeout.”She giggled, no longer so

embarrassed by the idea ofotherpeopleknowingshehada passionate side. Jon hadtaught her the differencebetween running wild andhaving a wild time. Maybecome spring she’d buy abikini to showoff her tattoo.Shehadnothingmoretohide.“If theykickyouout,”she

said, “you’d just have tocomelivewithme.”Jon’s hand stilled. “What

wasthat?”

The hairs on Heather’sarms stood up on a flush ofgooseflesh. “You’d…” Sheswallowed. “You’d just havetocomelivewithme.”He cupped her neck and

broughthermouthdownforasweet, smoldering kiss. Thestrangethingaboutbeginningtheir sex lifewith a series ofdares was that kissingremained almost…novel.Theywentdeepereverytime,feeling, learning one another

in a way that meltedHeather’sheart.His tongue smoothed the

seamofher lips,as ifaskingpermission. She opened tohim.Suchaquietburn.Sucha honeyed tension.Her bodywas alive—wide awake andeager, and always so safewithhim.“That idea would be

perfect if your placewere ascool as mine,” he whisperedagainsthermouth.

“I’m sure we can come tosomecompromise.”He kissed her, just lip to

lip.“Je t’aime, Heather love.Jet’aimecommeunfou.”Her heart squeezed tight,

then burst into a fast, joyousrhythm. “And I love you.God,Jon.”Shethrewherarmsaround

himandheldon,believinginhim, in them, more than sheever imaginedpossible.Withevery beautiful thing he did,

hehelpedpushherfearsawayuntil only their loveremained.Laughing now, she

attacked the zipper of hisjeans.Jon leaned back, arms

splayed on the armrests. Hisbemused smile returned,complete with thosemaddening dimples. “Whathappened to slow andsweet?”“Save it for Hyannis. I

have something else inmind.” She stroked his cock,enjoying the thrill of findinghimsoready.Hissing in a quick breath,

heclaimedherunboundhair.“Oh,really?Doenlightenme,Ms.Morris.”“We’re getting you kicked

out of your condo. Let’smakesomenoise,flyboy.”

Author’sNote

The 64th AggressorSquadron is an activeUnitedStatesAirForceunitassignedtothe57thAdversaryTacticsGroup,stationedatNellisAirForce Base in Las Vegas,Nevada. The pilots’objectives are as we’vedescribed: to fly as

adversaries against alliedpilotsfromaroundtheworld,teaching them to bettercounter enemy tactics. Theunit dates back to WWIIwhen it participated inmultipletheatersofoperation.Now, the 64th and other

“bandits”fromthe57thATGregularlyconductdogfightingsimulations in the UnitedStates, known as Red Flags,and Maple Flag exercises inconjunction with Canadian

Forces. They also add theirexpertise to the USAF’sWeaponsSchoolsyllabusandtravel the country to providetraining and test missionsupporttovariousunits.Allindividualsdescribedin

this story are fictitious.Research mistakes areentirelyourown.In themeantime,weenjoy

assuming that at least one ofthese dedicated, highlyskilled bandits can speak

fluentFrench.

AbouttheAuthor

Katie Porter is the writingteam of Carrie Lofty andLorelie Brown, who’ve beenfriends and critique partnersformorethanfiveyears.Bothare multi-published inhistoricalromance.Carriehasan MA in history, whileLorelieisaUSArmyveteran.

Generally a high-strungmasochist, Carrie lovesrunning and weight training,but she has no fear of grossthings like dissectingformaldehyde sharks. Hertwogirlsarenotappreciative.Lorelie, a laid-back sadist,would rather grinmaniacallywhen Carrie works out. Herthree boys love how shescreams like a little girlaroundspiders.To learn more about the

authors who make up Katie,visitwww.katieporterbooks.comor follow them onTwitter at@carrielofty and@LorelieBrown.

LookforthesetitlesbyKatiePorter

NowAvailable:

VegasTopGunsDoubleDown

ComingSoon:

VegasTopGunsHold’EmHardWay

BareKnuckle

ClubDevantLeadandFollowChainsandCanesPrettyandTwisted

CameUponaMidnightClear

Amanwithhandcuffs.Awomanwithapaddle.Both

flyF-16s.

Hold’Em©2012KatiePorter

VegasTopGuns,Book3Daughter of a world-

famous motocross champion,and head-on competitor withthree brothers, Captain Leah“Princess” Girardi was born

withaneedforspeed.Noonetells her what to do,especially not men withchauvinistic “girls can’t befighterpilots”attitudes.That’swhatendedherbrief

relationship with CaptainMike “Strap Happy”Templeton. Now, six yearslater, he’s been assigned toher squadron, and whoadamn, he’s filled out nicely.Plus he’s cultivated a Zen-like chill factor that pulls at

herhormones.Even after four tours,

Mike’sthenewkidinthe64thAggressor Squadron. That’snottheonlythingnew.SincehelastsawLeah,he’slearnedafewthingsabouthimself.Afemalewhooutrankshimstillmakes his teeth grind, but inthe bedroom he craves therush of pain inflicted by anadoring,powerfulwoman.Their reunion is an

explosive revelation. Leah isthe beautiful mistress he’sbeen searching for, and shetakes to her new role like anatural.ButLeah’sawareonethinghasn’tchanged.Lovinghim is still an all-or-nothingproposition. She’s not sureher reckless streak is wideenough to risk her career—andherheart.Warning: This book

contains a hot stud on hisknees, a woman wielding a

paddle, and filthy-gorgeousfemdomsex.Also:dangerousrock climbing, two amazingmotorcycles and some badtequila.

Enjoy the following excerptforHold’Em:Leah caught his eye,

sharing his mirth. She wasjust plain fun. Six years ago,her every waking breath hadbeenplansandstrategiesandthehardedgeofambition.In

truth, it had left him cold.Now he could almost forgetwhatawaitedthembothcomeTuesday morning. Him in asimulator.Herincharge.She shrugged into her

flight jacket, as ifunconsciously reinforcingMike’s realization. Pilot.Colleague.Boredomwasmakingthem

bothfools.“Leah?”Pausing, her hands

wrapped around her helmet,shetossedloosehairoverhershoulder. God, she’d do thatif she were riding him—thatsharp flick. He swallowedbackagroan.“What?” she asked.

“Chickening out? Thatdoesn’t bode well for yourfutureasanAggressor.”Hegrinnedatthat.Shehad

noidea.Screw it. Tuesday was a

long-asswaysaway.

Jacket on, helmet on, hegunned the throttle. One ofthevaletsgavehimathumbs-up, whichmade him grin allover again. He angled hisbike around the semicirculardriveway. Leah’s squealingengine revved in reply, rightonhistail.The Strip was almost

painfullybright, allneonandshimmer. Leah rode besidehim.Herposturewastautandlow as if she’d been the

professional motocross racer,not her dad. Did she takenothingbyhalfmeasures?For the sake of their

eveningtogether,Mikehopednot.The traffic thinned as they

continued back toward base,giving him time enough towonder if he’d read herwrong. Maybe his hard-uparousalhadbeenfeedinghimsigns that weren’t there. Shewas just fuckingwithhim. It

wasn’t like she had any ideawhatreallyawaitedherathisplace.No whips, unless you

countedthecordedtasselsonhisflogger.No chains, unless you

countedthelocksonhiswristrestraints.And none of that was

meantforher.If a woman didn’t go for

power, the whole prospectmight seemdamn strange, or

even a turn-off. He hadn’tmade that mistake sincemeeting Georgia, but hedidn’t like the idea ofmisreading Leah so badly.The evening wouldn’t be acompleteloss,nomatterwhathappened, but the hard acheinhischestandtheitchunderhis skin wanted more than apassablehump.If for no other reason, he

wanted her to know howmuchhe’dchanged.Heknew

they could be amazingtogether.The pink terror of a bike

zippedpasthim.Leahflippedhimoff thengunneditagain.Mike laughed. He couldn’thear it and could barely feelit,buthislaughwasdeepandrich. Doubt fizzled tonothing. If ever therewere awoman who liked being incharge,itwasPrincessLeah.He leaned low over his

BMW and let the engine get

itsgrowlon.Easilyhepulledalongsideherandevenedgedaheadbeforebackingoff.Thepower was there. The sheerbluntmuscle.Hedidn’t needto blow her out of the watertomakethepoint.Aminute later theyhauled

ass out of the city. Theenvirons just outside Nelliswere the type preferred bymilitary the world over, tidyandsmall.Mike turnedon toa side street, amused when

Leah had to double back tofollow. A few wanstreetlights seemed likecaveman times compared tothe glare of Las VegasBoulevard.He steered into his

driveway. Leah killed herengine almost in tandem,leaving the night air of thattiny neighborhood suddenlyquiet. Her laugh followed asshe stripped off her helmet.“Shit,thatwasfun.”

Mike banked the hardshudder brought on by hersatisfied words. “Keep itdown,willya?”“Says the man on the

Harley.” She eyed the littlesingle-car garage as if she’dnever seen one before.“Really?Like,arealhouse?”“Whynot?”“Your secret isn’t whips

and chains, Michael. It’s awifeandthreekids.”“You keep hedging like

this and I’ll assume I wasright.”She went toe-to-toe with

him, chin up. Although shewasn’t a short woman, shebarely came up to hiscollarbones—moretodowithhisheightratherthanherlackof stature. “Right aboutwhat?”“Aboutyoubeingscared.”Daringherwaslikecutting

a line for an addict. Sheseemed unable to resist. Her

baby-doll eyes took on thatheavy-lidded condescension,telling him he wasn’t worthnoticing. He stifled the urgeto back down and apologize.After all, he stood a betterchance of getting what hewantedifshewereslightly…pissedoff.Justalittle.“I don’t get scared,

Templeton.Youshouldknowthataboutme.”“Everyone has limits.

Secrets.Darkplaces.”“Well, that is why we’re

here, isn’t it? C’mon then,dungeonmaster.”She led the way up to his

frontdoor.Sheledhim.Mikehidagrinbehindhisfist.Heflippedontheoverhead

lightintheentryway,gropingaround in the unfamiliarspace.“Sowhythefull-onhouse?

Most single guys go for thebachelorpaddeluxe.”

“Complete with locker-room-stank smell? Not mystyle.” He hung his helmetand jacket on a couple ofpegs and nodded forLeah todo the same. “You wantsomethingtodrink?”Thiswasatest,evenifshe

didn’t know it. If Leahordered a double Jack andCoke, he’d give up on theidea of anything tooelaborate. Rules wereimportant. Rules like no

drinking.Bothpartiesneededto know the boundaries andwhen to stop. He wouldn’thand his keys to a girldrenched in alcohol, and hewouldn’t hand over his bodyeither.Leah slipped out of her

flightjacketwithashrug.Thescent of warm leather clungto her. “Just a soda.Whatever.”“Cool,” he said on an

exhalation.“Comeonin.”

She followed him throughthe near-empty rooms,looking everything over. Hedidn’t have curtains yet. Noblinds. The best he’dmanagedinthebedroomwasa heavy blanket over thecurtain rod. Their footstepsechoedonthehardwood.Thenearly empty house was fitforghoststohaunt.Mike grabbed two cans of

Coke Zero out of the fridge,which didn’t contain much

else. Half-and-half for hismorningcoffee.Ajugofmilkfor cereal. Lunch meat andcondiments. His cabinetsdidn’t lookmuch better. “I’doffer you a glass but I can’trememberwhereIputthem.”“Noproblem.”She tabbed it open and

took a swallow. Mike foundhimself staring at the flex ofmuscles along her throat. Hewantedhismouthrightthere,sucking.

“But no, seriously,” shesaid.“Whyahouse?”He leaned against the

countertop, stretching hislegs. “Maybe how I wasbrought up. You know, therhythmofseasonalchores.”“Nomowinghere.”“Youhavenoimagination.

I bet I can get some grassgoing.” He swigged a fewgulps of Coke, glad for amoment to regain hiscomposure. If he could

breathe, he could do thisright. “Owning is out of thequestion,obviously,butIlikesomething that sort ofpretendstobenormal.”“Aman’s bungalow is his

castle?”“Sure.Whynot.”And he waited. No way

was the first move going tobe his. Her frustration andslight edge of confusionshowed in her nervousenergy. She was an active,

buzzing sort of womananyway, butwithout purposesheturneddownrightfidgety.“So?”“So?”heechoed.“Yougotmehere.”“True.”Shetookadeepbreaththat

showedoff her rack.Nipplesstilltight.Goddamn.“Sowhy haven’t you tried

tokissmeyet?”Mike pinched his fingers

around the lip of the

countertop. “Because youhaven’ttoldmeIcould.”The hauteur was gone. So

was any obvious frustration.Shenarrowedhereyes,usingher gaze as a pickax to diginto his brain.He opened upto her inspection. He hadnothingtohide.Notanymore.“What is this about?” she

asked carefully. The tone ofher voice was soft, slightlyawed,asifsheperchedontheedgeofunderstanding.

Mike’s throbbingdickwasbegging for her tomake thatleap.“Come on. Let me show

you something.” He pushedaway from the counter andwalked with stiff legs to hisbedroom. Sitting on the bed,he forced his body tounclench.Breathe.She stood in the doorway,

casually leaning against theframe. But she teased theends of her hair—a nervous

tell.“Mike,talktome.”He resisted her command,

instead nodding to hisbedside table. When he’dunpacked his gear thatmorning, he certainly hadn’tthought hewould be using itsosoon.“Openit.”After a moment’s

hesitation, she saunteredforward. “Ah. Your proof, Isuppose?”“Sure.”Leahslidopen thedrawer.

Hermouthopenedonaquietnoise.Eyeswide,sheflashedhimaquestioningglance.Heonlyshrugged.She reached in, hands

unsteady, and removed alengthofleatherstuddedwithdecorative rivets. A tinypadlock dangled from oneend.Hiswristrestraints.Mikeswallowed.Hard.He

could barely hear past therushingwhirl of blood in his

ears. That pulsematched thethrobinhiscock.Forwhathehopedwouldbe the last timethat night, he took the lead.When Leah turned to himonce more, her expression amess of questions, he liftedhis arms and presented herwithhiswrists.

Thekeytosun,sand,andsinistotalsurrender…

KeyWest©2011LaceyAlexander

HotintheCity,Book3CarrieMarshisonherKey

West honeymoon—alone.After discovering her fiancéfooling around with abridesmaid on her wedding

day, she figures the trip willhelp her clear her head andmove on. But she doesn’texpect inspiration to appearintheformofatan,sexyboatcaptainreadytointroduceherto the island’s legendary,free-spiriteddebauchery.Carrie isn’t the first beach

bunny that hard-working,harder-playingChrisMcCannhas partied with, but peelingaway her innocence to findherinnerbadgirlaffectshim

like no one has before. Hersexual awakening burnshotterthantheKeyWestsun,melting his resistance andincinerating any hope he hasof keeping their relationshipcasual.All too soon, Carrie’s

returntorealityisaplanerideaway and neither of them isready for the fantasy to end.But Carrie has a business toreturn to, and Chris’slivelihood is on the island.

And besides, Carrie is justbeginningtorecoverfromthewedding that wasn’t, andChris isn’t a settling-downkindofguy.Soitonlymakessense to leave the sun, sand,and sensuality of the islandbehind. But can she walkaway from her hedonisticweek with Chris withoutlookingback?Warning:Containsaticket

to a party cruise whereanything goes—the rum

punch is flowing, inhibitions(and clothes) disappear, andthecaptain(andhiscrew)arereadytocatertoeveryeroticdesire.Comeasyouare…

Enjoy the following excerptforKeyWest:Upon their arrival, Chris

had pointed out to everyonethearea in the turquoisebluewaters that appeared slightlydarker, more shadowy,indicating it was the reef.

Carrie swam toward it,followingtheothersnorkelers—but she hadn’t traveledtwenty feet when a warmhandclosedaroundherankle.“Waitup,angel.”Looking back, she blinked

behind her mask, surprisedChris was already in thewater. “How’d you get heresofast?”“Secret maneuver.” He

grinned. “I jumped off theside.”

Shesmiledinreply.“Well,where are those great fishspotsyoubraggedabout?”“Followme.”He was a good, swift

swimmer, and Carrie hadtrouble keeping up with himuntil she grabbed onto thebottomhemofhisdarkgreentrunks and let him pull heralong.Whentheyreachedthereef, she followed his lead,puttinghersnorkelingtubeinhermouthandimmersingher

faceinthewater.Thesimpleact opened a whole newunderwaterworldashereyesfellonmoundsofbrownandgoldencoralgrowingupfromthe ocean floor. Fish of allsizes swam beneath them,some darting abouthaphazardly, others lookingas if they were out for aleisurely journey, and withthe help of Chris’s pointingfinger, she saw countlesstropical fish over the next

hour.Shespottedanumberofbeautiful fish in iridescentrainbow colors—schools ofyellow and black fish swamjustbeneath them repeatedly,followedbyalargegreenonethat ducked in and out ofcoral arches in search ofsmaller fish to eat. Herfavorite find was a lobstercrawling across the oceanfloor,whichshe’dneverhavenoticedwithoutChris’shelp.Of course, just feeling his

presence next to her in thewater kept her sexual nerveson edge, and the instanceswhen they bumped togetherin the waves were likewonderful little teases, tastesof what might be to come.Even as she enjoyed thesnorkeling, she found herselfthinking of later, wonderingwhat would happen—ifanything. But given all theattentionhewaspayingher—not to mention his sensual

applicationofsunscreen—shehadafeelingsomethingmorewould definitely occur, andthis time she’d welcome itwithoutworry.Stillpeeringdowninto the

gnarled coral, she followedChris’s pointing finger tosomethingthatlookedlike…ashark. She grabbed hismuscled arm, hard, and helookedup.“Wasthatashark?”He nodded—and she

panicked, her every nervegoingspasticasshethrewherarms around his neck andwrapped her legs around historso, as if she couldsomehow climb up his bodytosafety.His arms closed warm

around herwaist beneath thewater,buthedidn’tevenlookworried. “Just a nurse shark,angel.Nothing tobealarmedabout.”“What do you mean,

nothing to be alarmedabout?”shespat,stillclingingtohim.“Look at me. Do I look

worried? Do you see mescreaming ‘Shark! Shark!’ tothe other snorkelers?Everything’s fine. That littleshark won’t hurt anybody—weseethemallthetime.”Pulling her even closer

now, though, he seemed torealize just how intimatelyembraced they’d become.

“Not that I mind youclimbingalloverme.Infact,I like it.” He flashed theseductivegrinshewasgettingused to and she realized hiscock was growing hardagainst her pussy, whichsomehowfeltsuperchargedasherubbedagainstherbeneaththewater.She forgot all about the

shark when he begancaressing her hips, his handssoon kneading her ass.

Instinctively, she raked herbreasts over his chest justbeneath the ocean’s clearsurface—then glanced downto see her nipples, hard andgrazing his skin, the waterseemingtococoonthemnow.Everywhere the watertouched her felt like a small,lightcaress—itfeltmoreasifthey were wrapped in velvetthanH2O.She wished like hell she

wasn’t wearing her sillyflippers or mask. Reachingup, she yanked the mask offher face, looping it aroundher wrist, then did the samefor him. Ah yes, so muchnicer to look into those blueeyes without anything in theway.Disentanglingherfinsfrom

his, she drew her legs back.“Fins are in the way,” shemurmured.Hismouthwassoclose,shewantedtokisshim.

“Mmm,” he said. “That’sall right.” He slid his thighbetween hers, beginning torub her cunt through herbathing suit, sending wavesof pleasure echoing outthrough her body like sonar.Her leg naturally ended upbetween his aswell, and sherelished the feel of his hardshaftagainstherthigh.Without her permission,

her body began to respond,moving against him, riding

his leg. She drew in herbreath, wishing she couldstop.“Don’t fight it, angel, if it

feelsgood.”“But…thepeople.”Chris looked around them,

so Carrie did, too.Fortunately, no one wasnearby, and they were fairlyfar from the boat, whichmade her think maybe shecould kiss him, maybe shecould ride his thigh to hot

ecstasy,until…“Hey, Chris!” Jake yelled

fromonboard.“Shit,” he murmured, but

hedidn’tdisengagefromher,only looked to his crewmemberandyelled,“What?”“Fifteenminutes!”“Okay, thanks.”He looked

to Carrie, his big hands stillgently caressing her hips,back,ass.“It’salmosttimetocalleverybodyin.”Heletouta sigh. “Whichmeans I need

to head in now to help takegearandgetlunchready.”Carrie nodded,waiting for

him to separate fromherandendtheirsexywaterplay.Buthedidn’t.“Come to the Lazy Lizard

tonight,”hesaidinstead.“Thewhat?”sheasked.He flashed his usual grin.

“The Lazy Lizard. It’s a barjust off Duval, a block upfrom theConchTrainDepot.I tend bar there a couple

nightsaweek.”She blinked, incredulous.

“How many jobs do youhave?”He laughed. “Several. But

payments on that thing,” hesaid, pointing to the boat,“aren’t cheap.” He lookedback at her, his face seriousagain, his blue eyes filledwith slow heat. “Anyway,come to theLizard tonight. Idon’t get off ’til two, butMondaynightsareslow,soI

might be able to leave early.Eitherway,we can hang outand…” With both hands, heslowlysqueezedherasstight,hisfingersthrillinglyclosetohertinglingpussy.“And?”He glanced down at her

breasts and ran his palmsgently up her sides until histhumbs stroked the outercurve of the sensitivemounds. “And remember, onthepartyboat,howItoldyou

Icouldn’ttouchyouthere?”Shenodded.“Well, I can’t touch you

quite as much as I want tohere, either. But at the bar,angel, I can touch you asmuchasIlike.”

Onetasteofeverythingsheeverwanted…howcanshe

walkaway?

Plaything©2012Natasha

Moore

Paolo’sPlayhouse,Book4Julianne’stheepitomeofa

successful businesswoman.But where her boardroomrealityisfullofdecisions,her

bedroom fantasy is the exactopposite—allowing a loverwho knows what he’s doingto strip her of the need tomakeanydecisionsatall.When she reads an ad for

Paolo’s Playhouse, her long-ignored need twists insideher, too sharp to ignore.Trembling, she picks up thephone, and Paolo’s charm,lyrical accent and empathysootheherfearjustenoughtoagree to be the Playhouse’s

bondage toy. One look atPaolo the following night,andshewishesshe’dstruckadifferent bargain. To be hisalone.Paolo can’t take his eyes

off the brave and beautifulwomanwithhair likethefirehe sees in her soul. Hersexual need to be boundmatches his own powerfulneed to be the one to bindher.Tonightandalways.Except Julianne agreed to

only one perfect night. Nowhemustconvinceheritcouldbethefirstnightofmanyforthem—if only she will trusthim.Warning: Features a sexy

Italian whose lyrical voicecan charm or command,whose sensual hands canstroke or spank. Stop by thePlayhouse and live out yourfantasies!

Enjoy the following excerpt

forPlaything:She heard his footsteps

moveawayfromherandthenthe door opened.And then itclosedwithaquietclick.Shewasleftalone, tiedtoachairin themiddle of a playroom,offering her body forsomeoneelse’senjoyment.Andhopefullyherown.This was what she’d

wanted, wasn’t it? Ananonymous, erotic encounter.A one-time experience with

bondage. She was there toliveoutherdeepestfantasy.Itdidn’tmatterwithwhom.Atleastithadn’tbefore.She pushed the image of

deepblueeyesanddarkwavyhair out of her mind andconcentrated on thesensations of the moment.She was tied tight, yet itwasn’tuncomfortable,atleastnot yet. She felt vulnerable,helpless.And so aroused shecould feel moisture trickling

fromhercore.The air felt different now,

softer,almostlikethedragoffingers over her skin. Shecould barely hear the softmusicover thebloodpulsingthoughherveins.Hernipplesbeadedwithanticipation.Herheart skipped in her chest.Herpussyclenched.And she waited. And

waited.She discovered she didn’t

liketowait.

She was used to takingmatters into her own hands,whether it was a decoratingjob or her own satisfaction.But towait for theunknown.To anticipate the best. Toagonize about theworst. Shedidn’tlikeitonebit.Therewasn’tadamnthing

she could do about it, andperhaps that was the lessonshe was supposed to learn.Let go. Don’t worry. Waitand see. Everything was out

ofhercontrolanyway.She was here to be

someone’s plaything.Someone who would becoming to this room to playout his fantasy as well. Shehadtorememberthat.As she sat there and

waited, her heartbeat slowedtosomethingclosetonormal.Sherelaxedintothechairandclosedhereyes.Letgo.Don’tworry. Wait and see. Thewords repeated in her head.

She might have even dozedoff in the darkness thatsurroundedher.Thensheheardtheclickof

the door opening. The doorclosing. Footsteps nearing.Herpoorheartkickedupintohigh gear again. Shestraightened as best shecould, sitting tall and proud.She wanted to pleasewhoever it was Paolo hadentrusted her to tonight. Shelicked her lips and attempted

ashakysmile.He hadn’t said a word.

Hadn’t moved since thefootsteps stopped. He woresomeexoticscentthattickledher nostrils. Who was he?What did he look like?Whydidn’t he have his ownbondage toy to play with?Was he someone like her,someone who hadn’t beenabletofindawillingpartner?Hewassoquiet.Hehadto

have been looking her over.

Checkingherout.Perhapshewastryingtodecidewhatthefirst thing was he was goingto do to her. Oh God, whatwashegoingtodotoher?Her breathing began to

come faster, harder. Panicscrambled in her chest.Maybe she couldn’t do thisafterall.“Shh.” He brushed his

hand gently down her cheek,through her hair, across hershoulder. And then again.

“Shhh.” The soft strokescalmed her and she feltfoolish for panicking. Paolohad promised she would besafewiththisman.Andwhileshemightnotknowthismanenough to trust him yet, shetrusted Paolo. She believedhim.She nodded slowly, not

daring to speak after Paolo’swarning. The man, herMaster,begantolengthenhisstrokes. Without her sight,

she seemed to experienceevery sensation morestrongly. His hands werelarge and warm, the tips ofhis long fingers slightlycalloused.Sherelaxedalittleashe continued to caressherarms,herneckandshoulders.Helightlybrushedhisfingersalong her breasts. Her bodywarmed under his hands.Shivery tingles ran along herskin.Then she felt his lips, first

soft on her jaw before theymoved down her throat. Heknelt between her wide-spread knees, the soft fabricof his trousers brushingagainst her inner thighs. Hishands grasped her shouldersas his mouth moved lower,and lower still, until hecaptured one of her pebblednipplesbetweenhislips.Sparksprickledhernipples

andshotstraightbetweenherlegs. He suckled gently,

laving the sensitive tip withhis tongue. She gasped andarched her back as much asshecould, shovingherbreastcloser to him. “More,” shewanted to yell. “Suckharder.” But she kept hersilence, except for the softmoanshewasn’tabletoholdback when he abruptlyreleasedthenipple.

InsideBet

KatiePorter

Zerotokinkyin3…2…1…

VegasTopGuns,Book2As junior partner of an

accounting firm, HeatherMorris is at the top of hergame. Her straight-lacedcolleagues wouldn’t believethesecretsshehides:herwildteenage past, work-of-arttattooandnipplering.Her orderly life veers off

course when she’sapproached at a wine tastingby an arrogant pretty boy

with a dirty mind and ahardcore dangerousprofession. She finds herselftempted to step outside herrespectable façade for somewell-deservedexcitement.Captain Jon “Tin Tin”

Carlisleknowswomen.Loveswomen. One glimpse of thenipple ring under Heather’sconservative blazer lights upall his instincts. He’sstumbled upon a raretreasure: an exotic beauty

withasexy laughanda tastefordares.After a red-hot hour of

roulette, their simmeringattraction bursts into anexplorationofmutualpassionthat tests even Jon’s eroticlimits. Soon he cravessomething he’s never desiredbefore. More. But forHeather,moremeanstrusting,andtrustingleadstotrouble.NowJonmustdecideifthe

best sex of his life is worth

chancing his heart on awoman who shields hers sowell.

Warning: Contains hotpowerplayfeaturingafighterpilot who comes from oldmoney but knows all aboutbringing the dirty. Also: anipple ring, sex on the hoodofahellasweetsportscar,andone teensy, tiny, wickedlynaughtyfluidexchange.

eBooksarenottransferable.Theycannotbesold,sharedorgivenawayasitisaninfringementonthe

copyrightofthiswork.

Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thenames,characters,places,andincidentsareproductsofthewriter’simaginationorhavebeenusedfictitiouslyandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Any

resemblancetopersons,livingordead,actualevents,localeororganizationsis

entirelycoincidental.

SamhainPublishing,Ltd.11821MasonMontgomeryRoadSuite

4BCincinnatiOH45249

InsideBetCopyright©2012byKatiePorter

ISBN:978-1-61921-086-8EditedbySashaKnightCoverbyScottCarpenter

AllRightsAreReserved.Nopartof

thisbookmaybeusedorreproducedinanymannerwhatsoeverwithoutwrittenpermission,exceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsembodiedincriticalarticles

andreviews.

FirstSamhainPublishing,Ltd.electronicpublication:August2012

www.samhainpublishing.com

TableofContents

DedicationAcknowledgmentsChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSix

ChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeventeenChapterEighteenChapterNineteenChapterTwenty

ChapterTwenty-OneChapterTwenty-TwoChapterTwenty-ThreeChapterTwenty-FourChapterTwenty-FiveChapterTwenty-SixChapterTwenty-SevenChapterTwenty-EightChapterTwenty-NineChapterThirtyChapterThirty-OneChapterThirty-TwoChapterThirty-ThreeChapterThirty-Four

ChapterThirty-FiveChapterThirty-SixChapterThirty-SevenChapterThirty-EightEpilogueAuthor’sNoteAbouttheAuthorLookforthesetitlesbyKatiePorter

AlsoAvailablefromSamhainPublishing,Ltd.

CopyrightPage