Undercover with the Nanny Read online

  And cracked her skull on the wall. He chuckled, and it sounded desperate to her ears. She opened her mouth to chastise him, but he covered one of her breasts with his mouth and sucked, hard enough she felt the pressure through her shirt and bra. She forgot about complaining, cried out instead at the glorious sensations his mouth produced. He began to move, thrusting into her in time with the sucking rhythm he maintained at her breast. Air stalled in her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she locked her ankles behind those piston-like hips, hanging on as he pounded into her. Shimmers began from where they were joined, intensifying with every flex of his hips. She closed her eyes, hid her face in the crook of his corded neck, where the veins bulged from his exertions. The shimmers turned into lightning bolts of pleasure.

  He quickened their tempo, lifting her and then lowering her, faster, faster, his hands on her bottom guiding her closer to that exquisite pinnacle that lingered just out of reach. She moaned, wiggling in his grasp. He grunted. Their bodies slapped together. The sounds shouldn’t have been erotic, but they were. Animalistic, yet sensual.

  She began to whine, for the orgasm hovered, unattainable. His breathing labored, his thrusts accelerated, and she knew he was close to unraveling. She wanted to go over the edge with him, didn’t know why it mattered so much. It just did.

  As if he’d read her mind, he used one finger to find that secret spot within her. It was all she needed. She shattered, consumed by the flames that burned through her, scorching her from the inside out. Sensations she’d never experienced exploded within her, stole her breath. Her whines became keening gasps as she struggled for air, struggled to stay conscious as her vision grayed around the edges.

  From far away she heard him shout, and warmth flooded her. He continued to thrust, continued to work that wicked finger, prolonging the firestorm as it rolled over and through her. She fiercely rode him, never wanting this moment to end. Tremors rocked her body as a second, tiny orgasm piggybacked the first. A double? It was unheard of. He had to be a god. She took advantage of his generous divinity, leaning her head back against the wall while absorbing the miracle.

  She tasted blood and realized she’d bitten her lip. A small price to pay for heaven. Against her will, the fiery sensations abated, though he still filled her. He slowed his pace, and removed his finger after one final caress. She wanted to cry, to scream no. To kneel at his feet and pray for more.

  She’d never felt anything like this before. All her prior orgasms had been weak substitutes, dress rehearsals for what she now knew was the main act. The poor sex she’d experienced previously had never been because of her, like she’d always believed. Her partners simply hadn’t been up to the task.

  Sawyer pulled her off him and she nearly burst into tears, a foreign response for her. Kate Munroe never cried. It solved nothing, and implied a weakness she couldn’t afford. But now, nothing was the same. He’d changed her life, tipped it upside down by showing her how it should be between a man and a woman. She would never be the same after this.

  He slid her down his body again, this time standing her on her feet. She wasn’t ready to be on her own, and her knees wobbled. She grabbed his waist as his hands steadied her.

  “Whoa,” he murmured, and then he lifted her once more in his arms, picking her up like she weighed nothing and starting down the hall toward what she knew were the bedrooms. She snuggled into his chest, enjoying the light pelt of crisp hair that abraded her cheek. She was safe in his arms, right where she wanted to be.

  …

  As he lowered her to his bed, Sawyer realized Kate had dozed off. Instead of annoying him, the fact brought a smile to his face. A smile when he should be frowning. Hell, he should be screaming. Yes, he’d just had the most incredible sex, with the most amazing woman. Who just happened to be involved in a case he was investigating. Unbelievable, mind-boggling, breath-stopping sex. Unprotected sex.

  He wiped his face with an unsteady hand and studied her sleep-softened face. He couldn’t dredge up the required self-disgust. He knew he’d crossed the line, professionally, as well as personally. But as he looked at her, curled in sleepy abandon in his bed, he didn’t regret one second of his fall from grace.

  He’d admitted the truth to her when she’d showed up at his door: he’d wanted her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. He couldn’t have stayed away from her. He knew it, now. The evidence sprawled half-dressed before him.

  Jesus, he hadn’t even given her time to remove her clothes. It was embarrassing, how frantic he’d been to get inside her. So frantic he hadn’t used a condom.

  He’d hoped she’d come to his door, even as he’d told himself not to answer it. That cross-purpose thinking had been messed up. And when he’d opened it, wearing only a towel, he’d made his choice. He just hadn’t expected he’d lose control that quickly. But, damn, when she’d pulled her pants down, he was a goner.

  He cast back to that moment and stirred at the memory. She’d been so hot, all warm and willing. When he’d dug his fingers into her butt cheeks, he was sure he’d come right then and there, and again when he entered her. Christ, she’d been tight, the sensations extraordinary without a barrier between them. He grimaced at that thought, shying away from it.

  After he’d touched her with his finger, she nearly imploded. No woman had ever reacted that wildly to his lovemaking. Either he’d gotten really good without practicing, or she was hyper-responsive. He refused to believe it was anything else.

  Her response had heightened his enjoyment. He was ready for another round. That was the scary part, how his desire for her made him forget precaution. In sex, and in general. She could have knifed him, and he wouldn’t have been able to defend himself. Although, he conceded as he gazed at her half-dressed body, she didn’t have too many hiding places for a weapon in that T-shirt and bra. But, still, he was a professional.

  He shook his head, backed away from the bed. Her control over him scared him more that the fact he’d let his guard down. If he was this obsessed over her after one hookup, there’d better not be any more. He should wake her, hand her her clothes, and tell her this was all a big mistake. That’s what a professional would do. She might scream, she might try to beat him up, but at least he wouldn’t be compromising the investigation any more than he already had.

  She would have nothing more to do with him, but he’d at least planted bugs at the pilot’s house, and in hers. That, and following Cabrera, would be enough to eventually find Ortiz and bring him down. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he’d screwed up the first plan royally. Emphasis on screwed.

  He turned to leave.

  “Where are you going? I’m cold, all alone in this bed.”

  He froze, while his erection jumped to attention like it hadn’t just been in use a short time ago. All his good intentions flew out the window when he faced her and found she’d taken her T-shirt and bra off while he’d been arguing with himself.

  She knelt in the bed without a stitch of clothes on, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist. He walked toward her, telling himself, just one more time.

  “Let me warm you up.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kate awoke the following morning against her will. The bed was so warm, and the covers jammed around her neck like a thermal collar, inviting her to slide back into sleep. Her body hummed like a car after a much-needed tune up. She tried to remember what day it was and couldn’t. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. A bomb could go off in her room and she’d simply pull the blankets over her head and go back to sleep.

  She would have, too, except the smell of coffee tugged at her taste buds, taunting her with that rich fragrance. And she lived alone, at least for now. So, who was making coffee in her apartment?

  Just as she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar, masculine bedroom, memories of the night before crashed over her, drowning her with the images of how she’d come to be in this apartment, this bed. S
crambling to peek under the covers, she grew hot with embarrassment. She amended her thoughts: how had she come to be naked in Sawyer’s bed.

  She’d slept with Sawyer Hayes. Not just slept with him. There’d been little enough of that. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling while her face flamed. She’d had crazy, wild, monkey sex with Sawyer Hayes.

  Careful to wrap the sheets around her body, she sat up. Her skin sizzled from the simple rub of cotton on its nakedness, reminding her of what they’d done together, what she’d done to him throughout the night. He’d unleashed a beast when he’d taken her in his arms yesterday. It hadn’t been difficult for him to find her inner cavewoman, she admitted. She’d been crushing on him since they’d first met.

  A grin stole across her face, and she leaned her forehead on her bent knees. Last night had been phenomenal, and she wouldn’t change a thing. She wasn’t a frigid, uptight woman incapable of letting loose. She’d let loose with Sawyer too many times to keep count. She barely recognized herself in the memories of what they’d done.

  “You’re awake.”

  Her crush’s voice brought her head up, and a new infusion of heat through her body. Damn it, he’d caught her mooning about him. She stared at Sawyer as he filled the doorway to the bedroom, a mug with the words “Everything’s bigger in Texas” cupped between his hands. The suggestiveness wasn’t lost on her, not after the night they’d shared. She tended to agree with the saying.

  He wore the neon board shorts he’d had on when they first met on the beach. His hair was tousled, and he sported enough golden stubble she could see it even with the distance between them. She squinted. Was that a hickey on his throat, with another, fainter one above his heart, half-hidden under that deliciously curly chest hair? She cringed, darting her gaze toward the dresser to avoid meeting his eyes.

  The evidence was even more damning than she imagined: she’d been an animal last night. She, who normally lay back and let her partner do all the work during sex. She remembered shoving Sawyer onto his back at one point, kissing him everywhere her mouth could reach. Riding him at a furious pace, while his devilish fingers produced the most heavenly responses from her body.

  “Having morning-after thoughts?”

  The bed rocked, and she realized he’d sat down beside her. The steam from the coffee obscured his expression. She stared at the rising vapor, unable to look Sawyer in the face as the memories of last night played in her head. How could she maintain nonchalance now, after she’d screamed, “More, more,” in the darkness of his bedroom most of the night?

  Holding the sheets against her breasts with one hand, she reached out for the cup of coffee. He relinquished it, and she took a careful sip, closing her eyes as the hot liquid slid down her throat and began to do its job. She opened her eyes and found him gazing at her with tiny lines between his brows.

  After another caffeine infusion, during which he watched her like a scientist observing a new experiment, she replied to his earlier question. “No, no second thoughts, Sawyer. I knew what I wanted when I came here. You threw down the gauntlet, and I picked it up.”

  He smiled. It was like the sun emerging from behind the clouds. He was probably a terrible liar, because the relief she saw in his expression was clearer than any words he could have said. She gave a hesitant grin. How she could feel shy after last night, she had no idea. Perhaps it was because she was having a conversation stark naked.

  He moved closer to her on the bed, their shoulders brushing. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react this morning. Last night was pretty…intense.”

  Intense was a good description. Hot, sexy, stupendous were also good. She studied the mug again before venturing an “I liked it.” Boy, had she. Over and over.

  “So did I. A lot.”

  She couldn’t answer that, afraid she might say too much, maybe too little. Besides, she couldn’t get over that he’d liked what they’d done together “a lot.” No guy had given her praise. Maybe a weak “that was great,” in a mild monotone before jumping into his clothes and scramming, but not “I liked it a lot.”

  “Something’s the matter.”

  He was too observant. She should have said something witty, one of her trademark sharp responses that never failed to make him laugh. She searched her brain, but came up with only, “Nothing. The caffeine hasn’t hit my veins yet, that’s all.” It sounded lame even to her ears.

  He hooked a finger under her chin, raised her head until she was looking at him. He didn’t say anything, just searched her eyes with those emerald ones that didn’t miss a thing.

  “Are you worrying about that first time, when I didn’t…um—”

  He was a pit bull this morning. While that trait had been great in bed last night, she wasn’t too enamored of it this morning. After a deep inhale, she blurted, “No, it’s not that. I’m on the pill, anyway. It’s just, um…sex has never been that good for me.” Those lines deepened in his forehead. Of course, he wouldn’t believe her, not after her performance last night. Hell, all she’d been missing were a cowboy hat and spurs. And maybe a whip. She hurried on. “I always thought maybe I was…I dunno. Frigid?”

  There, she’d said it. She stared into his face, listening as that word, that death knell to women, faded into the silence of the room. She became aware that his finger under her chin stroked that soft skin. Back and forth in a tantalizing rhythm that made her want to purr. Until a burst of laughter erupted from him, startling her.

  A laugh? He was actually…laughing at her?

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  She didn’t like to be laughed at, though the sound of that chuckle invited her to join in. This was a serious subject, damn it. She bet he’d never been accused of frigidity. The man oozed sexuality in everything he did, right down to his laugh. Her frown deepened.

  His amusement faded from her continued silence, and perhaps her scowl. At last, he wore a serious expression. His hands came up to cup her bare shoulders. She shivered from his touch, fought the urge to drop the sheet from around her breasts, to lean into him and beg him to make love to her.

  “I’m sorry for laughing. That was rude. I didn’t know you were wrestling with that sort of problem.” He let his voice trail off. She swallowed. Hard. Here it came. The kiss-off. He’d reflected on the night they’d had and decided she’d come off as desperate. She’d been called that before, too. Trying too hard. That’s why she’d developed that harsh, smart-mouth exterior. She looked at her sheet-covered lap.

  His fingers tightened on her shoulders, and she met his serious gaze once more. He took a breath. She opened her mouth to stop him, but he talked over her.

  “You are about as frigid as a supernova, Kate. I need some of those ‘Ove’ Gloves when I touch you. In fact, I can feel you quivering right now. What makes you think you’re frigid?”

  Her mouth opened. He was serious, though his eyes twinkled. She should be embarrassed that he could sense her arousal. And, she was, a little, though her stomach unclenched as the meaning of his words sank in.

  He hadn’t just been paying lip service to how good it had been last night, not with the way his eyes darkened now, or how his hands began to smooth her shoulders in a hypnotic caress. His gaze roved over her, and she warmed where it touched her, emboldening her to explain.

  “Sex has always only been nice for me. I figured I didn’t have much of a sex drive. Many women don’t, you know.” She raised her chin. Was she discussing sex with Sawyer Hayes while sitting buck naked on his bed? This was the only subject in the world that she didn’t feel confident about, and she was talking about it to her crush. Awkward!

  He raised a brow as he reached for the forgotten coffee cup. “Didn’t you know that ‘fact’ was made up by men who are lousy in bed? C’mon, Munroe. You can’t tell me you believe that crap?”

  After placing the mug on the floor, he grasped the sheet she’d wrapped around her, and pulled it away with slow deliberation. Her stomach muscles, relaxed a mom
ent ago, tightened as his gaze roved over her. Her breasts began to ache when he looked at them. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep from reaching out and splaying her fingers through that coating of hair that dusted his broad chest.

  When he didn’t make another move, she slanted a look at his face. It was scant inches from hers. She’d never felt him move.

  “Last night wasn’t a one-off,” he murmured. “As much as I’d like to take the credit, I’m not some superhero for orgasms. Don’t know what the picture would be on my suit for that, actually.” He paused in his crazy monologue with a wrinkled brow. Kate bit her lip to keep from laughing. They were in his bedroom the morning after a night of unforgettable sex, and he was cracking jokes about sexual superheroes.

  But, then his expression sobered. “Kiss me, Kate,” he commanded. Those lips that hovered just above hers tilted upward. “I’ve been wanting to say that old movie line ever since we met. So, I repeat, kiss me, Kate.”

  That Texas drawl flowed over her, seeping past the crumbling defenses around her heart. Although she knew he wasn’t here forever, that his job would take him away eventually, she threw caution to the wind. She’d never met a man who made her feel this way, about herself, about sex, or about him. Why the hell should she avoid the best thing to happen to her in a long time?

  She roped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. She wasn’t about to.

  …

  For a moment there, he thought she might not comply. She stared at him as if searching his brain for subterfuge. His mind recoiled from that thought. But the next minute she wound her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with hers, and all his thoughts flew out of his head.

  He knew by now she liked the way he sucked her tongue into his mouth, how he stroked it with his own until she’d squirm. God, he loved her squirming. So, he did, and she did. She rubbed her breasts, and their tight little nubs, against his chest, driving him mad.