Lethal(107)

They could do it just once more, right? What could it hurt? He wasn’t going to tell anybody. She sure as hell wasn’t. If he turned his hand into her and began stroking her there, she would wake up smiling and drowsy and ready for him again.

They would kiss. Erotically. Her mouth would be so damn enticing, he’d dip into it again and again to gather the taste that was now familiar to him. He would touch his tongue to her nipples, and she’d rub her thumb around the tip of his cock and feel that he was about to burst, and then he’d be inside her, moving.

Or maybe not. Maybe he would do something he’d never done with a woman. Maybe he would just… be. Be still. No movement except their heartbeats. Not working toward something so it would be over with and he could move on to the next thing, physically sated maybe, but unaffected.

No, maybe this time, he would just savor being joined to another person as tightly as two people could be. He would savor being joined with Honor.

Maybe, while they were fitted together like that, he would kiss her. And if she kissed him the way she usually did, he would probably lose it. He’d have to move. He’d have no choice.

Afterward, he would tease her about how easy she was, and she would pretend to take exception. He would tease her about her tattoo, so wickedly positioned between twin dimples just above her shapely ass.

He’d say the tattoo artist had been one lucky son of a bitch to have had that luscious view while he plied his trade. I’ll bet he took his sweet time, he’d say. Then he’d tell her that’s what his vocation would be in his next life. He would be a tattoo artist who specialized in primary school teachers who went on Hurricane binges and got tattooed in places that weren’t—

Seen by just anybody.

His lazy train of thought suddenly derailed.

He pushed her off him and leaped from the bed. “Honor, wake up!”

Startled out of her deep sleep, she came up on her elbows and shaded her eyes against the glare when he turned on the ceiling light. “What’s the matter? Is someone here?”

“No. Turn over.”

“What?”

“Get on your stomach.” He planted his knee beside her on the bed and flipped her facedown.

“Coburn!”

“You said ‘persuaded.’ ”

“What? Let me up.”

He placed his wide hand over her bottom and held her down. “Your tattoo. You said you got tipsy and were easily persuaded. Persuaded to get tattooed?”

“Yes. I didn’t take to the idea at first, but Eddie—”

“Insisted?”

“Eddie never insisted I do anything.”

“Okay, he persisted.”

“Sort of. He double-dog dared me. I finally gave in.”

Coburn was on his knees beside her, examining the intricate design. “And he chose the spot.”

“He said it was sexy.”

“It is. Sexy as all get out. But I don’t think that’s why he wanted it here.” Coburn squinted down at the swirling pattern while tracing it with his fingertip. “What does it say?”

“It doesn’t say anything.” She was watching him from over her shoulder. “I told you, it’s a Chinese symbol of some kind.”

“It’s gotta mean something or else why’d you choose it?”

“I didn’t. Eddie did. In fact he—”

Coburn’s head came up.

Her eyes connected with his. “He designed it.”

They stared at one another for several seconds, then Coburn said, “We just found the treasure map.”


For the umpteenth time Tori considered her empty cell phone. And for the umpteenth time she was sorely tempted to replace the battery and call Bonnell. She longed to talk to him. So what if he wasn’t extraordinarily handsome and well built? He wasn’t an ogre. She liked him. She knew his adoration for her was genuine and might have advanced from infatuation into—dare she think it?—full-blown love. He would be concerned over her sudden departure, wondering why she’d taken off to parts unknown without an explanation, why she wasn’t answering the calls he was surely placing.

If he’d put two and two together, he would have figured out that her leaving town was connected to the friend she’d told him about, the one who’d been kidnapped. Maybe he had late-breaking news regarding Honor and the search for her and Emily.

After sending the one short text to Bonnell informing him that she was leaving town, she had heeded Coburn’s instructions to the letter, even though she’d questioned the necessity of taking such precautions. A half hour after arriving at the house, she and Emily were making mud pies on a playground near the lakeshore. She’d been enjoying herself so much that it was easy to forget for short periods of time why the two of them were on this excursion.

But whenever she was reminded of the grim circumstances, she experienced a pang of longing for Bonnell’s solid presence. She also felt a touch of resentment for Coburn and his strict orders. Tori had an innate aversion to rules and had spent most of her life defying them.

Her resentment had mounted with each passing hour, until now, lying alone in bed and wishing for Bonnell’s raunchy company, she decided that no harm could come from one short conversation just to assure him that she was all right, as horny as ever, and desperately missing him.