Fractured, page 13
Bastard.
The door thumped shut behind him, and I took a deep breath. Mission accomplished.
Except Jenika was gone.
Chapter 15
White sand beaches and cabana boys
* * *
At four am Kerrison and I stumbled into our Brooklyn apartment from our first afternoon and night and morning at the Elite.
We were friggin’ freezing since we’d forgotten our coats. Thank God for the car’s heater and that the central heat was on in the apartment. My fingers and toes started tingling immediately as they began to thaw out.
I didn’t know if I was going to collapse from sheer exhaustion or starvation, or if I’d explode from unadulterated fury before going on a killing spree at the Elite.
“All of the above,” I grumbled as I flung my stilettos across the room, barely missing a vase on an end table with one while the other stiletto thumped the wall beneath one window. The rental deposit should cover the dent the heel made.
My feet screamed from being wedged into those damned stilts for so long. My toes had already started to swell after I jerked the heels off in the car. When I’d removed them, I’d contemplated going back to the Elite and using them to commit murder—those nice, pointy heels made perfect weapons.
“All of what above?” Kerrison seemed to process that I’d spoken aloud as she closed her eyes.
“Collapse, eat, explode, homicide.” I jerked off my wig and tossed it onto the coffee table before massaging my scalp with my fingers. “And not necessarily in that order.”
Kerrison sprawled on the love seat, her long hair looking like tangled red yarn on the leather. Her makeup was smudged, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. Her beaded fringed brown skirt was hiked all the way up to her waist, showing pink panties. “If you’re talking about going back to kill every man in that place, can we at least get an hour’s sleep?”
I plopped into a padded chair. “I’ll take a minute to think on it and get back to you.”
“Food” Kerrison sat bolt upright on the love seat.
At the same time, I caught the delicious smells and said, “Breakfast”
We both cut our gazes to the entrance of the kitchen, then looked at each other. Not even a second passed before we jumped to our feet and headed for the kitchen.
Donovan stepped into our path, and he was lucky we didn’t run him down. He carried an oval serving platter filled with a breakfast that smelled so good I knew I’d orgasm from eating just one sausage link. If I wasn’t so tired.
“Oh, God.” Kerrison looked like she was going to faint when she closed her eyes and took a deep inhale of the delicious smells.
A mountain of buttermilk pancakes, a pile of crisp bacon, lots of sausage links, and a mound of scrambled eggs were on the platter. He carried a pitcher of maple syrup in the hand that wasn’t carrying the platter.
“Get to the table, Agents Steele and Kerrison.” Donovan hadn’t shaven, and his two-day stubble made him look good enough to eat, too. He wore a gray T-shirt and Levi’s, and his feet were bare. I might have cared about how completely sexy he looked if the breakfast he’d fixed hadn’t been calling me. “Your next two assignments are eating then bed,” he added in a firm tone.
“Uh-huh.” Kerrison followed him and dropped into the closest chair at the dining table. “Whatever you say, boss.”
The table was already set with three china plates, three place settings of silverware, three crystal glasses, a crystal pitcher brimming with milk, along with a porcelain napkin holder in the middle of the table.
Kerrison didn’t hold back when Donovan set the plate down. She’d speared two pancakes, two sausage links, and scooped up a bunch of scrambled eggs before I’d had a chance to pick up my fork.
“Jeez, save some for the rest of us, Kerrison.” I gave her a mock-frown that she ignored as she snatched the small pitcher of maple syrup from Donovan and drowned her pancakes and sausages.
Donovan wore an amused expression as I filled my plate almost as fast as Kerrison had. He loaded his own plate with what was left of the breakfast. Fortunately for him, he’d cooked enough to land healthy servings of his own.
While we shoveled food into our faces, we gave him the highlights and the lowlights of the evening, including that we’d learned Jenika was missing and what we thought happened to her. My stomach soured and I found myself not quite as hungry any longer. I told them about the evidence I had stuck to my thigh and in the hem of my dress, as well as the pics I’d forwarded to Takamoto. I’d been so exhausted on the way back that I’d forgotten to tell Kerrison.
When we finished eating, Kerrison slumped in her seat, leaned her head back against the high-backed chair, and placed her hands on her abdomen. “If I wasn’t already taken, Donovan,’’ she started with a satisfied sigh as she raised her head and looked at him. Exhaustion yet humor was in her eyes as she contined, “And if you weren’t one of my bosses—not to mention if you were my type—I’d tell you I love you.”
Not her type? I almost laughed. How could Donovan not be every woman’s dream man?
“So, you liked the breakfast,” Donovan said with one of his rare, quirky little smiles.
I just gave a sated moan and looked at Donovan. Then every ache in my body started to make itself known again, and I winced.
“Bed.” He stood and pointed toward the hallway with the two bedrooms.
“Most happily.” Kerrison shoved back from the table, her chair scraping on the wood floor. She dropped her napkin onto the table and stood before she pushed her stringy hair over her shoulders. “Thank you for the incredible breakfast, King of All Men,” she added before weaving down the hallway. Her door thumped shut behind her.
“King of All Men, huh?” I smiled at Donovan. “I might have to agree with Kerrison on this one. You’ve earned the title after that breakfast.”
“I intend to take advantage of my new title.” Donovan moved around the table to where I had just gotten to my feet. “I have an order for you, Steele.”
I scrubbed my hand over my face, trying to force the exhaustion away. “I’ve got to figure out what to do about Jenika. I can’t take time for sleep.”
Donovan’s jaw and his expression tightened. “You’re not going to be worth anything if you don’t get rest during the op.”
Rest. Just the word brought on more exhaustion.
When he reached me, I fell forward against his chest and I let him bring me tight to him. I hooked my arms around his neck, and his delicious male scent seeped into my pores.
My mind turned entirely to him as if I had no control over my thoughts. Instead of wanting to sleep, I had the sudden desire for something altogether different.
He kissed the top of my head then settled his arm around my shoulders. I leaned against him and he partly supported me as he guided me to my bedroom. Before he opened the door, I smelled the vanilla candles that flickered in their holders on the bureau, the vanity, and a nightstand. When he closed the door, the room was dim except for the dancing candlelight.
“You’re the best, Donovan.” I must have said that to him a million times since the first time he’d taken care of me during Cinderella, and I meant it every time.
I turned into his embrace and rose up on my toes to meet him part of the way when he lowered his head to kiss me. He brushed his mouth over mine, back and forth a few times, then gently bit my lower lip. He parted his lips as I opened my own so that my tongue could meet his. He tasted of milk and maple syrup.
“Hold that position,” I said as I stepped back.
He cocked his head and watched me as I pushed up my skirt and winced when I pulled off the clear packaging tape that had the fingerprints from the wineglass. Then I dug in the smaller suitcase for two small plastic evidence bags. Shoved the piece of fingerprinted tape into one, then flipped up the hem of my dress, drew the chunk of blonde hair out, and slipped it into the other bag. I tried not to think of what those two pieces of evidence might mean as I stared at them.
“Later.” Donovan took me by my shoulders, turned me around, and brought me back into his arms. “You need distraction and relaxation right now.”
“Distraction? Is that what you’re doing to me?” You bet he was. His hands rubbed up and down my back, massaging me at the same time we kissed. “You’re going to have me feeling entirely boneless if you don’t stop soon,” I murmured. “Which means I won’t be standing up much longer on my own and you’re going to have to hold me up.”
“That’s the idea.” Donovan’s fingers found the zipper to my dress and eased it down to the base of my spine.
I shivered as cool air met my bare back. While our kisses grew more intense with every thrust of our tongues, he unfastened my bra. We separated and stared at each other as he pushed the dress and bra straps over my shoulders, and I let them slide down my arms and drop around my feet.
When I was just in my thong underwear, I stumbled over my clothing as he guided me to the bed. The comforter had already been pulled down.
“On your belly and rest your head on your arms,” he ordered as he lifted me onto the mattress. The sheet he laid me on was cool against my chest, abdomen, and thighs. I already started to feel more relaxed as I breathed in the smell of clean cotton sheets and vanilla candles.
“Whatever way you want it,” I murmured as I settled my head, one cheek on my forearms, “I’ll take it.”
“You’ve always had a one-track mind, Steele.” His voice was all deep and rumbly.
I wiggled on the bed. “When it comes to you.”
My eyelids drifted closed and I heard the dull clipping sound of a cap opening then the slap of his palms as he rubbed his hands together. Entirely erotic-smelling Caribbean spices flowed through my senses and a tremor of anticipation ran down my spine.
With his strong fingers he began working in the sensual oil, concentrating on my shoulders and neck. It was a warming massage oil that heated my skin the more he rubbed it in.
I gave a long, contented sigh. “You are a god.”
“Just remember you said that. As well as whatever it was Kerrison called me.” His voice was husky as he gave me a deep-tissue massage. I moaned as he started to relax my tense muscles. “I’ll remind you if you forget.”
“Mmmm.” I fell into the incredible massage as the mattress dipped and Donovan straddled my thighs.
His jeans rubbed the outside of my legs, and I would have preferred his skin to be bare against mine. His hands were strong, his fingers loosening up my tired, tense muscles and drawing me away from a day filled with anger at horrors beyond most people’s imaginations.
Countless people around the world were safe and comfortable in their homes. People ignorant of men like Hagstedt and their trafficking empires that needed to be destroyed. I hoped that none of them would wake up to reality and have a daughter or son suddenly missing.
Donovan’s massage allowed me to slip away from reality. Caribbean scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, ginger, and thyme. All I needed was a cruise to the Bahamas, crystal blue water, white sand beaches, sunshine, a deck chair, a cabana boy, and a piña colada.
Make that an icy Bahama Mama, one of those fruity alcoholic things you’re supposed to drink when in the Bahamas. A drink made with rum, orange, pineapple juice, grenadine, and other froufrou stuff. I suppose I could possibly do without Guinness for a trip to the Caribbean. For one night, anyway.
And I could skip the cabana boy as long as Donovan was with me.
The Caribbean was one place I hadn’t been to, one place in the world not tainted with memories of times I wished I could completely forget.
For now, I could.
I allowed myself to escape into thoughts of hearing nothing but the sound of water lapping against sand, smelling sweet spices along with the salty scent of the Atlantic, feeling the sun’s warmth on my back.
“Mmmm.” Instead of becoming sleepy as I was sure Donovan had intended, sexual energy washed through me like a tide rushing in. My mind became fully alert, and so did my body—in ways only Donovan could address.
Talk about a second wind.
I gained a little leverage and pushed myself onto my back so that I could look up at Donovan. “There’s no way you’re going to tell me I’m too tired.” I reached between us and ran my fingers along his thick erection. “And you certainly can’t hide the fact that you are not the least bit sleepy right now.”
It was easy to see he tried to keep the corner of his mouth from curving up into his sexy little smile and failed. Instead, he reached for the warming oil, poured some on his palm, then snapped the lid shut and set the bottle on the nightstand.
My nipples tingled as he rubbed his palms together before grasping my breasts and massaging them. More Caribbean spices. More warmth.
I gasped and arched my back as he began tweaking and pinching each of my nipples then massaging my breasts again. He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, and I bit his lower lip hard enough to make him smile against my mouth.
“Wildcat,” he murmured. “Maybe you should save a little strength for tomorrow. I think you might need it.”
“I don’t care about tomorrow.” Our lips and tongues moved together, nipping, tasting, teasing. “Screw the real world. Right now is all that matters.”
“If you say so.” He rose up, his hands braced to either side of my shoulders. “You’re the boss.”
“Yeah, I’m the boss.” His T-shirt was soft beneath my palms as I pushed against his chest. “And I say so.”
Donovan adjusted his position and pushed my thighs wide so that he could settle himself on his knees between my legs. My ache for him growing more and more intense. Especially as he drew his gray T-shirt over his head and I watched his muscles ripple and flex with his movements.
I sighed at the pleasure of seeing such male beauty and I stretched out my arms and reached for him. But he backed away and I frowned. The mattress squeaked and rose as he climbed off and unfastened his jeans and pushed them down before stepping out and returning to me.
He hooked the sides of my thong with his fingers and tugged them over my hips and legs. I smiled again.
Donovan eased onto the bed, between my thighs again, and moved so that he was pressed against my folds. “We went too fast last time.” He brushed the back of his hand over my cheek. “I want to take my time with you.”
“When I haven’t had any sleep for God knows how long?” I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his length. “We’ll save slow for later.”
“You’re the boss,” he said again.
He definitely didn’t hold back for slow.
Donovan began taking me hard and fast with such intensity and fervor that my head was close to banging the headboard.
With every plunge, I cried out and arched up to meet him. My mind was gradually going blank. All I was doing was feeling Donovan. His thick girth and length inside me, his bare chest against mine.
I almost forgot to hold back a scream when I came. Instead, I bit my lip and gave a loud moan.
At the last second, I remembered that Kerrison’s room was across the hall and what Donovan and I were doing wasn’t likely to meet Oxford’s approval considering he and I were co-Team Supervisors.
But with the waves of my most excellent orgasm washing over me, I really didn’t give a damn right then.
My core spasmed again and again when Donovan climaxed inside me. He was so big, I could feel every pulse of his orgasm. By the way he was baring his teeth, it was obvious he was holding back a shout of his own.
When both our orgasms subsided, Donovan rolled with me so that we were both on our sides, facing each other. The flickering candlelight showed the sheen of sweat on our skin and the rise and fall of our chests as we worked to catch our breath.
Nothing beat sex with Donovan. His long, hard body, his scent, the way he made me feel inside and out. He made me forget myself and the world outside the two of us.
I put my forearm against Donovan’s. He looked tan against my fair Irish skin.
“I’ve never asked you anything about your ancestry,” I said as I hooked my arms around his neck. “With your darker skin and the angular lines of your face, you don’t look Irish, but you have an Irish last name. Mine’s an unusual Irish surname, not a Mc or an O’something or other, but Steele is still Irish.”
“Steele was brought to Ireland by the English,” he said with a teasing expression.
I sniffed and gave him a haughty look. “One of my ancestors thought there were too many MacDonalds where he lived, so he adopted Steele as a last name.” I rolled my eyes. “For that I thank God. I can just see my agents asking me for fries with all of the orders—assignments—I give them.”
Donovan grinned. “Personally, I’d like a Big Mac.”
I slugged his shoulder. “Our genealogy has been traced back to the dawn of time—more or less—and we’re a hundred percent Irish.” I slipped my hands into his hair. “The question is, Mr. Donovan, what about you?”
He circled one of my nipples with his fingertip.
“I can think of something we could be doing again, rather than discussing my ancestry.”
“Uh.” Focus, Steele. And not on the way he’s teasing me. “Just tell me.”
Donovan lowered his head and licked my other nipple and I gasped and arched my back without meaning to.
“You never fight fair,” I said between gasps.
He met my gaze and gave me an amused look. “So that’s what we’re doing? Fighting?” He brought me so close to him that I felt his hard length against my belly.
“That was fast,” I said as he pressed impossibly closer. Losing my mind again was a distinct possibility. “Stop it. I want to know.”
Donovan propped his head in one palm, his elbow on the mattress as he trailed the fingers of his opposite hand in lazy circles on my chest and around my breasts.
“I’m not sure.” He brought his hand up to my forehead and drew his index finger down my nose, over my lips and chin, to the hollow of my throat. “I was adopted.”
