4. No Name #2
She ran her hands down his back, appreciating how his cashmere sweater tickled her fingers, but beneath the garment, his granite muscles turned her panties damp.
Another hit of lust shot through her, but this time she bit back the moan that threatened to escape.
She wanted to tear off his clothes and mount him, then ride him hard and fast until he pulled the orgasm from the depths of her soul.
“That’ll take all of three minutes,” she murmured to herself.
“What will?” he whispered as he nuzzled through her wig and pressed his sexy mouth to her ear. “What will?”
Jolt after jolt of energy shot through her, landing in the small spot between her legs.
Ohmygod.
“Nothing,” she replied.
It had been well over a year—probably closer to two—since she’d been intimate with a man, but it was very uncharacteristic of her to jump some stranger’s bones. As the hypnotic lyrics pulled her into the song—and the melody whisked her back to a happier, safer time—she floated in his muscular arms.
She’d been telling the truth when she said it was her mom’s and dad’s favorite song.
They’d dance in the family room gazing into each other’s eyes.
As a child, she felt like she’d landed in the best fairy tale.
A real-life one. When the song ended, her dad would kiss her mom softly.
They’d stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds longer, then their magical moment would be over.
But tonight, this was the song she’d fantasized about playing from the moment she’d landed in Moscow. Being free as a bird.
As she tightened her grip on the sexy man in her arms, a sigh floated from her lips.
Standing at over six feet, he pulled back, peered down at her. When she tilted her face toward his, their eyes met.
The energy shifted.
He was sick handsome with piercing light brown eyes, perfectly sculpted lips and contoured cheeks, a scruffy beard and mustache, and hair that her fingers tingled to touch. But she couldn’t remove them from his back.
I’ve glued myself to him.
That had her biting back another smile. Being stuck to this man felt like she’d won the lottery, but when a woman passed by them on the dance floor, his gaze shifted to her.
Not cool.
Even though they were strangers, she didn’t like him checking out anyone else. They were pressed so close, she could feel his hard-on straining against his dress pants.
Who cares? Just go with it.
Can I be honest?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrows in anticipation.
“I wasn’t in an accident,” he said. “I got jumped.”
He was peering into her eyes so hard, she got lost in them, and it took a few seconds to catch up with his words.
“Did you say you got jumped? Like in a robbery?”
She’d been surprised and had let her accent slip, ever-so-slightly.
It was like he was hypnotizing her.
Get it together.
Her insides were screaming for a release, the pulsing between her legs had her staring at his mouth.
Just one kiss.
“No,” he said, “they wanted to kill me.”
Breaking eye contact, she glanced around the room, uncertain who she was searching for. In that moment, she felt vulnerable.
Was he sent here to kill me? Who the hell is he? Calm down. He was here first. Plus, I could take him out if I had to.
Behind his back, she cracked her knuckles, one hand at a time. “Who’d you piss off?”
“Everyone,” he replied. “All the time.”
As the song built to a crescendo, he leaned down. “Stop me,” he murmured.
His warm breath on her face had her tightening her hold. Now, they were in total lockstep.
“Do it,” she mouthed.
He dipped down, kissed her.
She closed her eyes, letting the desire burn through her while he cradled her neck in his large hand. She was trapped… and she loved it. When the song ended, he broke the tender embrace, but he didn’t release his hold, the desire in his eyes stealing her breath.
And then, she did it.
She sank her fingers into his hair and combed through the luscious, dark waves. She couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop breathing deep, letting his scent fill every part of her. The moment was intense and wild, yet they were standing completely still.
With her heart was hammering away in her chest, he looked like he’d stepped off a yacht in the Riviera. Completely composed, ruggedly handsome, and brimming with confidence.
I gotta have him.
No, don’t do it.
She was waging war and the fight was real. Her body was screaming at her, her thoughts were racing.
The woman walked by them again, only this time, his gaze never left hers.
Well, sure he’s about to move in for the kill.
“I should go,” she whispered. “Thanks for the dance.”
She peered up, wishing he would insist she stay. Despite still being nestled in his strong, muscular arms, his silence left her feeling cold… and lonely. Like all those days and nights in Russia.
She started to break away, but he pulled her back, leaned close and murmured, “Don’t.”
Silence.
“I’m going to take care of you… good care of you,” he said. “All night long.”
Yesssss.
Instead of waiting for an answer, he clasped her hand, led her out of the lounge.
She didn’t do hookups with randos. She had no idea who this man was, and she shouldn’t let her guard down.
Yes, she was back on US soil, but she still had to watch her back.
In the spacious lobby, he stopped, slipped his fingers beneath her chin, tipped her face toward his, and kissed her, this time letting his tongue tip into her mouth.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she savored his talented tongue on hers.
Do it.
She would stay in the hotel but not bring him to her suite. She didn’t have a condom, but the hotel had to sell them. If he tried anything, she’d take him down, fast.
When he finished kissing her, he shot her a little smile. And she melted.
Mygod, he’s a player, and I’m being played.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I gotta have you.”
Those five little words came flying out of her mouth with such conviction, she’d surprised herself.
“Ti farò contorcere dal piacere e urlare il mio nome quando verrai,” he murmured. I’ll make you writhe with pleasure and scream my name when you come.
“Non so il tuo nome,” she replied in Italian. I don’t know your name.
His smile touched his eyes.
“Ma apprezzo la frase. Non molto originale, ma non mi lamenterò se mi farai godere per bene,” she continued. But I appreciate the line. Not very original, but I won't complain if you sex me up good.
He chuffed out a laugh sending a jolt of energy whizzing through her. He was strikingly beautiful with a killer body.
Go with it. You’ll never see him again.
“Are you staying here?” he asked.
“No questions,” she replied.
“Let’s get a room.”
She nodded. To her surprise, he pulled his phone from his pocket, made a call. When he pressed it to his ear, she murmured, “The front desk is right there.”
“This is better,” he replied. Into the phone, he said, “Hey, sorry for the late call.”
She glanced at her watch. It was after eleven.
“I’m at your hotel—”
He’s talking to the owner, Rebel Dillinger.
“And I need a room for one night.” He listened, his gaze cemented on hers.
“Thanks, yeah, I’m doing okay.” More listening, then he smiled.
“I am taking it easy, that’s why I’m looking to stay here.
” More listening, then, “I plead the fifth.” He laughed and she got another delicious adrenaline hit.
“No, I won’t rip my stitches, but thanks Mom.
” While he waited, he caressed her cheek with the back of his finger.
She quivered with anticipation as his long finger moved slowly down her cheek, her neck, then dipping into the hollow of her throat. A moan ripped from her throat as he pressed his mouth to her cheek and kissed her.
“Thanks, Rebel. Appreciate it. No, you don’t have to comp me.” After thanking him again, he hung up.
A shadow fell over his light brown eyes, a devilish smile lifted his sexy lips. “Play time.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her flush against him. “I’m going to eat you. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have a condom. Do you want me to buy a box?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
At the front desk, he said to the clerk, “Checking in.”
“Welcome. Can I get your name, please?”
He pulled his driver’s license and set it on the counter.
As the clerk checked him in, she said, “Welcome, Mr. Santini. I see Mr. Dillinger is in the process of completing the reservation for you. You must be one of our VIPs.”
Santini. It can’t be the same Santini. There’s no way.
She peeked up at him. His hair was longer, he now had a beard and mustache, but how did she not recognize him as one of the five men from the yacht photo?
Please don’t be the Mr. Santini from the villa.
“No Name,” Santini called out, jolting Halston from her thoughts.
She jumped her gaze to his.
“Do you want champagne?” he asked.
The clerk laughed. “Sorry, but I think I’ve heard it all.”
“This is my wife,” Santini said. “It’s an inside joke.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Santini.” She placed the keycard on the counter. “Enjoy your stay.”
“Champagne?” Santini asked again.
“No, thanks.”
Next stop, the hotel store. After buying a three-pack of condoms, he led her to the elevator bank. In silence, they rode to the fifth floor.
Halston didn’t play things safe. No double agent lived a normal life, but if this was the same man whose house she broke into… she wasn’t just playing with fire, she was letting it consume her. Burn her to the ground.
Am I about to get in bed with the devil himself?