Beneath the Secrets, Part Two (Tall, Dark & Deadly)(3)

Once the truck was in sight, Blake clicked the automatic locks and she rushed to her door and climbed inside, pulling the door shut. She turned to Blake as he did the same, intending to ask questions when he slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. Kara flinched.

“Fuck, f*ck, f*ck!” he exclaimed, raking fingers through his hair, long, dark strands falling from the tie at his nape and hanging around his face. His grip closed into a vice around the wheel and Kara could see his muscles quivering as he grappled with whatever had him in knots.

She held her breath, waiting expectantly, long seconds ticking by, while Blake clearly stood on the edge of a proverbial cliff about to jump. Kara could feel his tension and she actually felt herself tremble, her stomach knotting with the pain and torment that radiated off of him. Whatever the darkness was that she’d sensed in him the first time she met him had been triggered. Something had reached in deep and dragged it to his surface. It was crazy, but on some unexplainable level, she knew this man, and understood him, knew he was motivated by some deep hurt that carved him inside out. The idea that she could understand an enemy and make him human rather than a monster was a terrifying thought. She wanted to reject the idea. But she couldn’t. Not with Blake.

She didn’t give herself time to think. She reached for him. The instant she was about to touch him, it was as if he knew. His hand snaked out, fingers wrapping her wrist, and the next thing she knew she was flat on her back with him on top of her.





Chapter Two





She was soft beneath him, and Blake’s mouth came down on hers, his tongue caressing hers with desperate, hungry strokes, drinking her in, drowning the past in the present. He hated the past, hated the memories and the way they sideswiped him, controlled him. The past was controlling him now, and in a big way.

One minute he’d been with Ignacio, the next walking away, reliving Whitney bloody and dead in his arms. He’d made it to the truck without being overcome with the acid burn of hate and hurt that memory produced, but it hadn’t been easy. And when Kara had touched him and that image of Whitney had transformed, becoming her instead, it had been like a premonition that he was going to get her killed, too. Like she was going to matter to him and he was going to fail her, as he had Whitney. And damn it to hell, he didn’t want her to matter. He didn’t want to care about Kara or anyone else ever again. He wouldn’t let it happen. Kara was a tool for revenge, to get to Alvarez, and hot sex along the way. Which was exactly why he was going to f*ck her right here in the truck, in the garage.

Blake curved his hand under her hips, shifting his hips to fit into the V of her body, nestling his cock against her. She moaned and arched into him, so freaking soft on the outside, curvy beneath him, the floral scent of her delicate, and yet she was hard, tough, war-ready in a way he’d never suspected the first night in Denver.

Blake licked into her mouth, drank in the sweet honey flavor of her passion, of his passion mixed with hers, feeling the burn of insane need for a woman he barely knew driving him wild. He needed her, and he needed this right now. This was an escape from the rage going on inside him, the certainty he’d gotten Whitney killed, and that he was on the verge of getting Kara killed when he was only trying to save her. An image of Kara lying in his arms as Whitney had flashed in his head again. Damn it to hell, why was he thinking about this again? Why was he thinking at all?

He tried to deepen the kiss, to forget again, but it was too late. He was back into the acid burn of the past, the fear it would become the present. He didn’t trust Kara, but he trusted himself even less. Damn it, he was pissed. At himself. At her. At his inability to control what he was feeling and thinking.

Blake tore his mouth from Kara’s, staring down at her, their eyes connecting, the cabin of the truck a sauna of desire and lust, and for a moment he could once again think of nothing but how good it would feel to be inside her. She was making him crazy. “Who the f*ck are you?” he growled through clenched teeth.

Her chin lifted. “I could ask the same of you, because we both know you’re more than you seem.”

She was smart. Too smart. Too tempting. Too everything. “I’m the bastard who just aligned you with me, life or death, sweetheart.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why save me? You don’t even trust me.”

“I might need you.” The words, meant to be flippant, hit him hard. He might need her, and not just for the job. Damn it to hell, she was twisting him in knots, claiming him, not the other way around. He would not let this woman mess with his head and distract him. “I might need you to get what I want,” he repeated to prove to himself he could say it again and not have it affect him as it had the first time. It didn’t work, and that pissed him off all over again. This was sex damn it. Just sex. “And I damn sure want to f*ck you.” His mouth closed down on hers again, one hand sliding under her backside, shifting her, and settling his thick erection in the V of her body. His other hand slid over her waist, back up and around her breast.

She moaned and sunk deeper into the kiss, teasing him with wicked little licks that had his cock doing all of his thinking, and, for the moment, that’s what he wanted. Finally, yes. He could forget. Ignacio would wait on their arrival. The bleeding ulcer of memories in his mind wouldn’t. If he didn’t shred them and fast, they’d shred him.

Time disappeared into in a whirlwind of his mouth on her mouth, on her neck, on the swell of her breast above her bra. He shoved her shirt and bra up and suckled her sweet little nipple, and damn, when her fingers sliced into his hair, he felt a shiver of pure pleasure down his spine. Good, too good when he didn’t know who she was, what her agenda might be.