Page 70 of Close Pursuit

She lost herself in an alternate universe where nothing existed but Alex and the raging inferno between the two of them. Time ceased to have meaning as the blaze roared around them consuming everything she’d ever been before this moment.

She urged him on, praising him and pleading with him, and finally, when all words failed her, crying out in continuous, endless release as her body exploded and kept on exploding, over and over and over like the climax of a mighty fireworks display.

Alex’s shout joined hers and he slammed into her one last time, staying buried deep within her for an eternity while his body pulsed along with hers.

She went limp beneath him but continued to hold him in her arms. Thankfully, he made no immediate effort to move away from her.

Gradually her breathing slowed and his did the same. His bedroom was spacious and dark and cool. After a lovely eternity with his reassuring weight on her, he rolled away and stood beside the bed. He pulled down the bed covers and tucked her under them.

“Sleep now,” Alex ordered quietly.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked as his shadow moved toward another doorway.

“Later.”

And with that, he slipped out of the room.

She felt bereft. Abandoned. Why hadn’t he stayed with her to cuddle? Or was this all part of his larger plan to convince her of what a twisted, unlovable bastard he was?

Thing was, he’d given her nothing but pleasure and more pleasure, tonight. He talked a big game about being a bad guy, but she had yet to see any evidence of it.

Next time, though, she wasn’t letting him go when he tried to walk away from her in his bed.

12

Alex poured himself another glass of whiskey and stared down into its amber depths in search of answers. How in the hell had she done that to him? She’d stripped away every single urge from him to do anything but make her scream with pleasure.

His m.o. was to relish deprivation of pleasure. He didn’t get off on causing pain, but he always made sure the women he had sex with didn’t enjoy it particularly. He took his pleasure alone. The shrinks said it was a subconscious desire to punish his mother for leaving him.

But Katie, lamb-for-the-slaughter Katie, had smashed the mold to smithereens. Katie, the CIA plant trying to trap him into working for the agency. Katie, the superb actress and damned liar. Except he’d watched her body flush with pleasure, watched her shudder with orgasm after orgasm, heard the cries torn from her throat. Nobody—nobody—could fake all of that.

He’d had sex with some seriously accomplished whores. Some had tried to fake enjoying themselves with him over the years because they thought that was what he wanted. They hadn’t understood it was the one thing he didn’t want from them. They’d beenprofessionalfakers, and they couldn’t have pulled off what had just happened between him and Katie half so well. No, Katie’s reactions had been real.

What the hell did it mean?

Was it possible that she was actually who she said she was? An adventurous nurse who’d been thrown in his path by sheer chance? And who just happened to have an uncle who was a high-ranking CIA official?

He tossed down the whiskey in a single angry gulp. It burned its way to his gut like acid. He glared at the cell phone on its desk, full of damning photographs of Katie in the most compromising possible positions.

There wasno chanceshe was an innocent. Which left him with only one logical course of action. He had to turn the woman who was trying to turn him.

He had to addict her to him so completely that she served him over all others, that she abandoned any previous loyalties and clung only to him. And if that didn’t work, he always had the pictures.

But something deep within him rebelled at the notion of brainwashing or blackmailing her. Tonight, her reaction to him had been entirely voluntary. She was legitimately attracted to him. Had genuinely enjoyed having sex with him. It was a first for him.

And it’s addictive, dammit.

He couldn’t afford to indulge in any addictions, right now. The FSB and the CIA were breathing down his throat, both trying hard to rope him into working for them. Someone had hired that American in Zaghastan to kill him. At any minute, that person would send a more accomplished assassin after him, assuming it hadn’t been done already. God knew what game his father was playing now, but Alex dreaded what Roman would do to Katie and Dawn if he ever got his hands on them.

He definitely couldn’t afford to have feelings for sweet Katie McCloud. She might be by far the best sex he’d ever had, but he couldnotfall for her. Not now. Not ever.

His head said to get rid of her—immediately, but his gut shouted to keep her—forever.

Did he dare continue sleeping with her? Was he strong enough to hold himself emotionally apart from her while he sated his bodily needs with her? Except it wasn’t only his bodily needs she fulfilled, and he was a fool to pretend otherwise. He loved being loved.

He swore violently and tossed back another whiskey before stretching out on the couch in his office. He might have given her his bed tonight, but he wasn’t about to give her his soul.

Katie woke up slowly. Soft cotton beneath her cheek and an insanely comfortable mattress lulled her back to sleep several times before she finally roused for good. The sheets were black. She frowned. Where was she?—

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