Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(68)

Mal finished that suitcase and moved to hers, glancing up at her. “I intend to. And you won’t be able to walk when I’m done.” Impatience edged his voice, and she suspected it wasn’t because he was desperate for sex. Where was the bug?

“I don’t want you to be done…I want you to be inside me all night.” The words were coarse and crude and not what she liked, except…her hands dragged down to her jeans, playing with the snap. “I want you inside me. Your big cock. Hurry!”

His head shot up with a look that said he was doing his damn best.

She unzipped her jeans, making it slow and noisy and as stripper-y as she could. “You know what it’s going to feel like, Mal. Heaven.”

“Hot and wet and tight, woman.”

It didn’t sound like him. He’d never talk like that to her. Which helped remind her that this wasn’t real—anything either of them said or did was for the benefit of whoever might be listening or watching.

She pushed her jeans open and slid her hand inside her panties. Well, the words were working on her, at least. She touched herself and moaned noisily with her head back.

From under her lashes, she saw him look, his eyes flashing for a moment, then he gave her an all-business, nearly imperceptible nod. “Nice.”

The move or her spy work? “I’ll show you nice. Get over here.”

“Yeah, baby. Show me,” he said, pressed against a wall and carefully digging through the other suitcase. “And tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me how you feel.”

In other words, make more noise and cover for him.

“I feel…” At her long pause, he looked again, the message in his eyes clear. “I feel sexy when I’m with you. It makes me want you so bad, Mal. I’ve always wanted you.”

He switched to the last bag, not even looking at her as he searched. Okay, here we go.

“From the moment I saw you…” She caressed her womanhood, half proud of herself, half furious with her body’s response to something that was supposed to be fake. He finished searching her suitcase, tossing it aside and starting on the window casing and vent. “I wanted you—to kiss me, to taste me, to fill me up until I scream for more.”

That got his attention. He glanced over his shoulder, his brows slightly raised. “Yeah, baby.” His voice sounded gruff. “I want that, too.”

“Then find that condom, honey.” Because I can’t keep talking like a rejected page from Penthouse Forum for much longer. And I might come.

“I’m still looking for what I need,” he said. “But you’re making me hot, baby.”

“I’m hot, too.” Oh man. Lame, Chess.

He threw her a quick smile. “That’s good.” He gave up on the window and moved to the only other piece of furniture in the room, a cheap dresser. He opened the top drawer. “Maybe they’re in here,” he said.

“Hurry up, Mal. I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.” She touched her hard nipple, scraping the lace of her bra.

What a weak-ass she was. No decent spy would actually get turned on by this. Mal was all business, that’s for sure.

He turned to give her another look, pausing in his search to stare at her. His eyes darkened. His jaw locked. His chest rose and fell with one tight breath. “Keep going,” he said, his voice more than a little rough.


Or maybe not.

She pushed the jeans over her hips and shimmied out of them just to make more noise, moaning the whole time, leaving her thong on. “My panties are wet, Mal.” He didn’t even look, working his own way down to the lower drawer. Of course he didn’t look, because a real spy would use a more effective P-word than panties. “Mal, my pu—”

Suddenly, his fist shot in the air with a thumbs-up, then he beckoned her closer. “C’mere, baby,” he said. “Come over here and see…what I got for your wet panties.”

She scooted off the bed and stepped closer to see. Under a yellowed, crispy piece of tissue lining the bottom of the drawer, there was a tiny disc she recognized immediately.

“Sound only,” he mouthed without making a noise.

“Oooh,” she cooed. “That’s…huge.” Then she held her hands out as if to ask, Now what?

“Let’s use one right now,” he said, pushing her back to the bed. But there was no condom, and there was no way he meant they were really going to do this. She let him fall on her, knowing he had a plan and she had to trust it.

He kissed her—noisily—and added a satisfied moan. She did, too, and not just for the benefit of their listening audience. His hands were kneading her breasts.

“We’re going to f*ck, baby,” he said, still using a nickname and a word that sounded so wrong to her ears…so it couldn’t have been for her ears.

She inched him back with another question in her eyes. They were?

“All night long. We’re not going to stop until these boxes of condoms are empty and used up and so are we.” He winked at her, silently telling her that it was going to be okay, the cheesy talk was all part of the game.

Damn it, she liked his game as much as she liked him.

She responded with a kiss, making it as loud as his, moaning, groaning…faking it until she wasn’t anymore. And neither was he. His hard-on was massive, nearly bursting out of his jeans.