Page 90 of Undertow

“Now, where were we?” she purrs with a heated look.

“You were about to show me how to shuck a clam,” I tease, walking her back toward the wall of the building. It’s cooler outside, and the boisterous din from the open-air seating just out of view will provide the perfect cover for what I have planned.

“Ooh, I like when you talk dirty,” she returns.

I laugh and crowd her against the aging wood. My forearms frame her head, while her hands snake around my waist and slide beneath the waistband of my swim trunks.

“I much prefer this uniform to your Palmetto Acres one.” Her grin is an intoxicating blend of sugar and vixen.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“The fabric is more flexible.”

“You like flexible fabric, huh. That your kink?”

“I do when it gives me plenty of room to enjoy your ass.”

Damn.

Her eyes lock on mine, the tension mounting as her hands explore. Anyone could see us right now. Hell, some luckytourists are probably already watching, but that only excites me more.

Excites me. When’s the last timeanythingexcited me?

Her lips are unavoidable, and I move in for a taste. Sweet and dangerous, just the way I like it. She moans when I trap her body with mine. Our bare skin rubs friction beyond the laws of physics. Her hand slides around to my front for a slow massage.

I’m aching and on fire when my fingers thread into her hair to drag her mouth to mine. Our tongues meet, sliding over each other with the same deep strokes of her torturous hand. My hips instinctively match her rhythm. The hard heat becomes unbearable pressure.

“Shaw…” she groans.

With one hand still holding her captive, the other explores her body, taking its cues from every buck and moan. Each sound from her lips would be another entry in my own “musical moment” collection. I could fill a composition book from this encounter alone.

“I want you inside me,” she breathes out.

“I don’t have protection,” I murmur.

“I don’t care.”

My hot blood goes cold.

She would. God, she would if she knew.

“Shit,” she mumbles as her energy shifts. “No fucking way.”

Surprised by the abrupt change, I follow her gaze to whatever’s behind me.

My cold veins turn to ice.

“Scarlett?” I ask in disbelief.

My stalker’s cool gaze slides from Julia to me. Objectively, her expression is flat and unreadable. Subjectively, I know she’s livid.

My heart is pounding as I straighten and adjust myself.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning to face her.

Her eyes make a slow pass over my body, lingering long and hard at the tented fabric. Shit. I try to stay calm. She knows this was part of my mission. So why is she here? Did Merrick send her?

A sinking feeling in my gut tells me he didn’t. Merrick wouldn’t jeopardize the mission. This is personal.

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