Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(70)

She leaned forward, slid her hands beneath his shirt, stroking his hard belly, gripping his lean waist. Feeling the smooth, powerful play of the layers of muscle moving and shifting beneath her hands as she shoved his jeans down over his hips and let his cock spring free.

Whoa. It never ceased to amaze her. The sheer size of him, so broad and blunt. She caressed him, admiring every detail, the luxurious suedelike softness of the skin, the distended veins pulsing along the length of the broad shaft. Oh, wow. Perfection.

She loved the heat of him, all that thundering urgency and power held rigidly in check, waiting for the moment to serve her pleasure. She gripped him with both hands and squeezed, stroked, felt him gasp and arch and shudder, groaning at the tight, twisting stroke of her hands.

She ripped open the condom. The phone rang. They froze.

“Let the machine get it,” she told him. “It’s probably just my boss, calling to fire my lazy ass.”

Six rings was too damn long to wait. She had to reprogram the thing for three, now that she was avoiding the whole world. Click, beep, and the outgoing message played. She was changing that, too.

“Becca? Pick up if you’re there. I just talked to Carrie, and she—”

“Oh, God. It’s my brother,” she said, lunging for the phone. “Josh? I’m here.”

“Good!” Josh harrumphed. “It’s about time. Carrie told me you were a wreck. Not going to work? What the hell is that about?”

That was irritating. “I’m hardly a wreck,” she snapped. “Can’t I be depressed sometimes, too? Can’t I have a bad day now and then?”

Josh was silent for a moment. “No,” he said. “You can’t.”

Chills of guilt shuddered up her spine at her own thoughtless self-absorption. Josh had been only eight when their mom had given in to her despair and eaten that lethal handful of pain pills.

No wonder he couldn’t handle her being depressed.

That was one of the reasons she’d always tried so desperately hard to keep her spirits up, or at least the appearance of them. She wanted to give them at least that much security. An illusion they could count on.

And they still counted on it. For all their vaunted independence, for all their irritating juvenile attitudes, when she wavered, they freaked.

“What the hell is this I hear about you picking up a guy?” Josh’s voice was as huffy as a disapproving grandpa. “Some tattooed thug, Carrie said? Gross, Becca. I mean, I understand about you being pissed off at that prick Justin, but for God’s sake, you could get, like, a disease! You have to be more careful!”

Becca stifled her laughter with her hands, to hear her own desperate, bleating, sisterly lectures playing back to her out of her little brother’s mouth. “I don’t want to discuss that right now, OK?”

Josh was instantly suspicious. “Why not? And are you laughing? What’s so funny? You don’t sound depressed at all! What’s up?”

“I’m not laughing, you idiot. I just—”

“Is that guy with you? Right now?” His voice rose to a squeak.

“Damn it, Josh, I—”

“You were having sex with him! Right? That’s why you didn’t answer your phone. Holy shit, Becca. Are you, like, nuts?”

“Calm down,” she snapped. “Can’t I have a private life?”

“Put him on,” Josh said ominously.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I will do nothing of the kind.”

“Put him on!” Josh’s voice was obstinate. “I want to talk to him.”

Becca put her hand over the receiver, and gave Nick a pained look. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how this happened. It’s my little brother. He wants to talk to you.”

“How much does he know?” Nick asked.

“Nothing about the rest of it,” she whispered. “Just about you.”



Nick hesitated for a moment, and took the proffered phone as if it were a live bomb. “Yeah?”

The kid lit into him like a fighting pit bull. “Who the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing with my sister?” His youthful voice cracked with the force of his emotions.

Nick coughed. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Becca’s brother, Josh Cattrell. And if you mess with my sister, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Oh-kay. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “But just for the record, what exactly constitutes ‘messing with her?’”

“You know exactly what I mean,” the younger guy hissed. “So you’re this foul-mouthed, tattooed lowlife we’ve been hearing about?”

An involuntary grin wrapped around his face. He slanted a look at Becca and put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Foul-mouthed, tattooed lowlife?” he repeated softly.

“Oh, no,” Becca moaned, clapping her hands over her cheeks. “This isn’t happening. I did not say that!”

Nick shifted back onto his knees, still grinning like a fool, and realized, startled, that he was enjoying himself. It had been so long, he’d forgotten the sensation. “As you can see, your sister and I have this really great mutual respect thing happening,” he said, eyeing her.

“Are you seducing my sister?” the kid bellowed.