About That Night (FBI/US Attorney #3)(54)

She’d slept with an ex-con.

And not just any ex-con—she’d slept with the Twitter Terrorist, one of the most famous convicted felons to be prosecuted in recent years by the very office she worked for. A man who, just one day ago, had been her witness.

I’m not going to be a good girl tonight.

Safe to say she’d accomplished that goal.

She lay there in Kyle’s bed, not feeling guilty, just perhaps a bit…out of sorts. Meth Lab Rylann didn’t mix business with pleasure. She didn’t do office romances, she didn’t sleep with ex-witnesses, and she sure as hell didn’t have sex with ex-cons. Three times.

Quickly, she scrolled through her memories of the night before.

Those were some damn steamy memories.

A very clear, erotic image popped into her head of her straddling Kyle during round two, her hands running over the hard muscles of his chest as he murmured her name while she rode him. Then another one, of the two of them in his steam shower, the multiple jets beating a sensual massage against her skin as Kyle kneeled before her, pressing her against the warm marble and teasing her with his mouth as her moans echoed through his gigantic bathroom.

Rylann paused suddenly, remembering that one.

Oh crap, the shower.

Her hand flew to the mess of unruly curls tangled around her head and shoulders.

Lovely.

Time to make her getaway.

She peeked over her shoulder at Kyle, who slept facing her, with one arm tucked under his pillow. Seeing the rugged stubble along his jaw and the slight upturn of his lips, she had to fight the urge to snuggle against him, run her hands over his amazing body, and wake him up for round four. Unfortunately, such actions were directly contrary to her plans to: (a) make sure the sexcapades, though spectacular, remained a one-night deal, and (b) get the hell out of Dodge before Kyle noticed that she’d mysteriously sprung a Chia Pet from her head.

Slowly, she eased out of the bed, fully naked. She found her panties on the floor by the foot of the bed and quietly slid them on. Then she tiptoed across the room to the armchair, where she’d done her striptease for Kyle the night before—very fun and naughty, but there was no time to linger over more steamy memories—and found her bra, shoes, and dress. With her back to the bed, she hurriedly put on her bra, then realized the zipper of her dress would make too much noise and might wake Kyle up. Deciding to put the dress and her heels on in the living room, she bent over to pick them up and—

“Very nice.”

Rylann stood up, clutching her dress against her chest, and looked over her shoulder.

Kyle lay in bed, propped up on one elbow while watching her with an amused expression. “Fleeing the scene of the crime, counselor?”

This man could read her like a damn book sometimes. “No,” she said defensively. At least not for the reasons he likely assumed. She had no problems with the sex—all three scorching rounds of it. It was the ex-con part that had her somewhat agitated. “I just have this…thing I need to go to.”

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “At seven thirty on a Saturday morning?”

“It’s an early-morning thing. And I have to go home and shower first, obviously.”

“Of course. Here’s a tip, counselor: plan your getaway excuses the night before.”

Right. She’d forgotten that she was dealing with a pro. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Since there was no need to sneak around anymore, she stepped into her shoes and was about to put on her dress when she noticed the way Kyle was staring at her in her underwear and high heels.

His eyes went all warm and dark, taking in the sight. “Maybe you really should stay a little bit longer.”

The lure of those blue bedroom eyes was tempting.

Then his gaze shifted to the wild bush sprouting from her head. “Wow. Did I do that to your hair?” He looked oddly pleased at the thought.

Rylann made a mental note to throw a flat iron in her purse the next time she had sex in the shower with a billionaire ex-con. Not that there was going to be a next time. “Not all of us are lucky enough to have freakishly perfect, shampoo-commercial hair. This is what happens when I get wet.”

His expression turned wicked. “I know exactly what happens when you get wet, counselor.”

Yep, she’d walked right into that one.

“Usually there’s a lot of moaning and heavy breathing,” he continued. “Although my favorite part is the way you say my name—”

“Kyle,” she interrupted, glaring at him.

“Nope, not like that. A bit more fiery and enthusiastic.” He patted the bed next to him. “Let’s work on it until we get it perfect.”

“I’m going now,” Rylann said.

“Are you? Because I see you fighting back a smile there.”

Well, maybe she was. But she was still going. “Since you mentioned the hair—do you have a rubber band anywhere?” It was bad enough she had to do the walk of shame through his lobby wearing the red dress. No way was she letting anyone see the full extent of how mussed she was after one night with Kyle Rhodes.

“I’ll find something,” Kyle said.

He threw back the covers, giving her the perfect view of his delectable body, erect penis and all—seriously, did that thing ever go down?—and strode around the bed. He grabbed his gray boxer briefs off the floor and pulled them on. “I saw you peeking.”