Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(62)

“And here I just thought you liked my smart mouth and busy fingers.” She realized what she’d said and laughed. “I mean, my sass and computer talents.”

“I like them all,” he said, leaning closer to her. “I like the hell out of you and your sweet mouth and soft spot for kids you just met.”

She smiled. “I would take Gabrielita and raise her and love her in a”—she patted his chest—“heartbeat.”

He turned a little, stroking her hair, the intimacy so natural and organic, she didn’t question any of it. “They can’t all be that lucky.”

“You weren’t, were you? Did you go to foster homes, or what?”

“I was in a few, but my mother always pulled her act together enough to get me back.”

“So she did love you,” Chessie said.

“Love isn’t enough.” He twirled a strand of her hair through his fingers. “You have to sacrifice for kids. You have to be willing to put them first. You have to recognize the responsibility that they are.”

Chessie felt her jaw loosen. That was exactly how she felt, but her strong beliefs stemmed from living in a family that did just that, and wanting to replicate that. His background might be different, but the end result—the way he thought—was the same.

“You look so surprised,” he said.

“You constantly surprise me.”

He didn’t answer, but pulled her all the way into him, guiding her head to rest on his chest. While he stroked her hair, she listened to the sound of his steady, strong heartbeat and each slow intake of breath. She could feel his muscles under her cheek and had a perfect view of his chest and abs and the dusting of hair running right into the unbuttoned jeans.

Slowly, lightly, she rubbed a circle over his heart, more tender this time. “There’s some good stuff in here, Mal Harris.”


“I’m not that good, Francesca.” He shifted his body, lining them up more, closer to her mouth, close enough to feel his breath. “Nothing I’m thinking about is good right now.” He pressed his lips to hers. “In fact, it’s…hopeless.”

She smiled into the kiss. “It’s like we have our own secret password.”

“Yeah. Except it’s no secret…” He slid farther on top of her, an enormous erection pressing against her stomach.

But it was hopeless. Trying to remember that and not think of this as anything except the casual, meaningless, impossible-to-resist fling in the field that it was, Chessie tunneled her fingers into his hair and tightened her grip on his head.

She kissed with all she had, opening her mouth and arching her back and sliding one leg over his to offer herself.

His hand worked under her T-shirt, burning her skin at the first touch, making her whimper with need as he cupped her breast and circled her nipple.

It was a lie, she realized with a start. She’d never be able to have sex with him and not hope for…something. Even if it was just that they would have more time together.

But she kissed him anyway and decided that just made them even. He didn’t tell her everything last time they had sex, like the fact that he suspected she was a spy.

And she wasn’t telling him everything now, like the fact that she suspected she really cared for him and what was about to happen was exactly the polar opposite of hopeless sex.

* * *

Mal rolled over to get more of her. More of her mouth and tongue against his and more of her sweet body in his hands. Except more wouldn’t be enough. He wanted it all.

Chessie moaned with invitation and affection, easing him on top of her, letting their bodies mold in the most natural way. He kissed her again and again. Each time she tasted a little different. Sometimes sweet, sometimes peppery, sometimes a flavor he’d never experienced.

And still he wanted more.

Against her, his erection grew even harder, straining his zipper, already throbbing for release. That’s all this was, right? A release for both of them. A way to shake off the day’s work and the challenges of this trip and this country and this life. A way to be…partners.

So he took it. Took all of it and all of her.

He had her top off in seconds, and then her bra. He groaned at the sight and feel of her breasts, nipples budded and dark with color. He suckled, pulling her into his mouth and earning a gasp of pleasure as she rocked her hips.

“You like that,” he murmured, happy that he could make her feel so good.

“Define like.”

He laughed and headed south, working on her jeans as she was unzipping his. She slipped her hand in and closed her fingers around his shaft, sending a shock through his system.

“And you like that,” she teased with kisses on his chest, each one making him fall a little harder for her.

She pushed his jeans down and used both hands to stroke him, temporarily paralyzing his efforts to get her undressed. He couldn’t think about anything but the heat of her hands, the way she worked his cock, up and down, around the tip.

Release threatened way too soon.

“Don’t,” he muttered, trying to pull out of her hand. “Wait.”

“I can’t.” She ignored him, stroking harder. “I won’t wait.”

He almost laughed at her determination, but other sensations got in the way. Heat and blood and an ache that started low in his back and deep in his balls.