Chapter 7
Moe lay half awake, mostly asleep, with Breely’s warm, naked body spooned against his. He knew he should get up and get moving, but he liked where he was with the redhead in his arms.
Sunlight peeked around the edges of the blackout curtains he’d drawn the night before. He turned his head toward the clock on the nightstand.
He groaned. Checkout in one hour. Barely enough time to make love once more, clean up and check out of the hotel.
He could call the desk and ask for a later checkout, but that would require moving away from Breely’s delicious body and waking her.
She had to be exhausted. They’d fallen asleep around midnight, woke up to make love near two and then again at five. He smiled at what was left of the accordion of condoms. They’d made a dent in the number. But they could do more if he woke her now.
He didn’t have the heart when she’d been through so much the day before.
Breely stretched out her leg, draping it over his thigh, her bottom rubbing against his rock-hard cock.
Her hand slid behind her back and captured his shaft. “Again?”
“Not unless you want to. I wake up this way, especially when I’m with a beautiful woman.” He caressed her hip.
She rolled over and snuggled against his chest. “What time do we have to check out?” Her voice was husky with sleep and sexy as hell, making his erection even harder, if that was possible.
“Eleven.” He pressed kisses to her forehead and eyelids. “Unless I call and ask for a late checkout.”
She leaned up, glanced over his shoulder at the clock and dropped back to the pillow. “We have time.”
Thirty minutes later, they were still in bed, naked and sated. Breely from her release during foreplay. Both from riding hard and fast, and culminating in simultaneous climaxes.
In Moe’s book, it didn’t get better than that.
For a woman who wasn’t very experienced with making love, Breely caught on quickly and tried things she thought he might like.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he’d asked at one point.
She’d blinked at him with unholy innocence. “I read a lot.”
He’d laughed out loud at the comment and her sad attempt at being completely na?ve. She might not have participated in gratuitous sex, but she’d read enough to know a little about effective methods of stimulation.
“What book?” he’d asked.
“The Kama Sutra, of course.”
Now, she rested her head in the crook of his arm, her hand on his chest, which was rising and falling with each of his breaths as if her hand were a part of him, moving to the rhythm of his body,
“We really should get moving,” Breely said. “I’d like to go back to my apartment sometime today and salvage whatever I can.”
“You want the bathroom first?” he asked.
“No.” She gently dug the tips of her fingers into his skin.
“I want both of us in the bathroom at the same time.” She tossed aside the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“I’ve never showered with a man. I’ve been skinny dipping in a creek but never shared a proper shower with a man. ”
Moe stood, rounded the end of the bed and scooped her up into his arms. She was light and easy to carry into the bathroom, where he sat her bare bottom on the counter.
She squealed. “Cold!”
He smacked her thigh. “Good. Maybe you will cool off while I get the temperature right.” Moe stepped into the shower, turned on the water and adjusted the heat.
When he turned back to Breely, she sat with her legs spread wide, her fingers sliding between her folds.
Her gaze met his, sending a wave of super-nova heat flooding throughout her.
“I don’t want to cool off…” She sucked in a sharp breath as she touched her slit.
“Yes. Yes. There it is.” She flung back her head and closed her eyes, her hips rocking with her self-induced release.
What Breely was doing to herself brought Moe’s flagging staff to immediate attention.
Her cheeks had twin spots of color, and her eyelids sank to half-mast, giving her an expression of raw, unbridled lust. Moe curled his hands into tight fists to keep from grabbing Breely and thrusting deep inside her where she sat perched on the counter.
He wanted her to have her climax and ride it to the end.
He tried counting to ten to calm his racing pulse, made it to three and stalked toward her.
Her lips curled into a sexy smile. “Took you long enough.” She rested her hands on his hips, guiding him in.
He took her in one swift thrust, burying himself deep inside.
Her channel contracted around him, holding him there as he fought to keep from coming.
“Damn,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
“What?”
“Protection.” He pulled free, dashed into the bedroom and returned with the last of the strip of condoms.
She took it from him, her breathing ragged, hands shaking as she tore open the packet. With both hands, she rolled it over his thick shaft all the way to the base, fondling his balls as an added bonus. Then her hands were on his hips again.
He was inside her in a second, scooping her off the counter.
Breely wrapped her legs around him as he stepped into the shower, positioning them under the warm spray.
He let the water soak them, rivulets running over their heads, shoulders and backs. Then he turned, pressing her back to the tile wall.
She braced her arms on his shoulders as he pumped in and out of her, increasing the pace and intensity with each thrust until he was on fire inside, the flame rising, jettisoning him over the edge.
The force of his release had him pulsing inside her for several long, delicious moments. As his heartbeat slowed, he lifted her off him and stood her on her feet, holding her in his arms until he could breathe normally again.
“You are amazing,” he said, resting his forehead against hers.
“Until you, I thought orgasms were all hype.” She laughed. “Boy, was I wrong.” Breely squirted soap into her hands, built up a lather and spread it over his chest.
He armed himself with his own suds and treated her to the same. Soon they were covered in bubbles, laughing and playing beneath the now-tepid spray.
Moe was rinsing Breely’s hair when loud banging sounded on the door to the room. They’d left the bathroom door open and heard it clearly.
“What the hell?” Moe shut off the water and reached for a towel.
Before he could hand it to Breely and wrap one around himself, the door burst open, and a tall man strode in, his face a mask of anger.
He marched up to Moe, towering over him. “What have you done with my daughter?”
Breely stepped up beside him on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, wrapping a towel around her naked body. She lifted her chin and glared at the big man. “Daddy, what gives you the right to barge into this hotel room?”
“The US Marshalls, FBI, Denver police and my name on your birth certificate give me the goddamn right to look out for the welfare of my only child. Especially when she has been kidnapped and taken across state lines.” He tipped his head toward Moe. “Arrest this man.”
Breely stood toe-to-toe with her father, a clear foot shorter, dripping wet and barefooted. And she was fierce. Her green eyes flashed. Her chin jutted out. Despite her diminutive stature, she was a Valkyrie ready to bring down the wrath of the gods on her father. “On what charges?” she demanded.
“Kidnapping, assault…” Brantt’s gaze swept over Breely in her towel and Moe, who’d wrapped a terrycloth swath around his waist, “and rape.”
The Denver police officers pushed past Brantt and grabbed Moe’s arms.
He stood tall, holding onto his towel and pride. Resistance would only give the officers a reason to hurt him. The truth would come out, he’d be released, and they would all laugh about the misunderstanding over a beer.
The rage on Brantt’s face told a different story. An outcome that could be influenced by wealth and status.
Still, Moe didn’t fight the police officers.
“At least let me put on a pair of pants,” he reasoned in a clear, calm tone.
No attitude, no sarcasm. No reason to hit him with a stun gun or pin him to the ground.
If the situation didn’t improve quickly, Moe would ride it out until he could place a call to Stone and Hank.
They had connections. Hopefully, their connections had as much pull as Robert Brantt’s.
“This is insane.” Breely’s stepped closer to her father and turned those compelling green eyes up at him, her eyebrows dipping low.
“Daddy, Moe didn’t kidnap me. He rescued me from kidnappers who attacked me in Bozeman.
If you want to arrest someone, find and arrest them before they make another attempt. ”
“If this man didn’t kidnap you, why did he abscond with you and fly you all the way to Denver?” Brantt glared at Moe. “He’s either going to hold you for ransom, or he’s going to sell you into the sex trade.”
“That’s not what’s happening here,” she said, her tone evening out, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I’m going to get dressed.” She pointed to the police officers. “You’re not going anywhere with that man until we get this straightened out.”
Breely marched into the bedroom and grabbed the black T-shirt and Moe’s jeans.
She passed the officers holding Moe, tossed the jeans at one of them, and said, “Let him get dressed. It’s the decent thing to do. Unless he’s considered guilty until proven innocent.”
Moe fought the smile threatening to break out across his face.
When riled, Breely was kickass. A petite force to be reckoned with. She stared at the police officers with her narrow-eyed glare. “I mean it. Don’t even think of leaving with that man until I’m back.” She entered the bathroom and closed the door.
The officer holding Moe’s jeans patted down the denim. When he was satisfied no weapons were hiding in the pockets, he slapped the garment into Moe’s hand.
The officers released his arms.
Moe dropped the towel, jammed his feet into the legs of the jeans and pulled them up over his hips, tucking in his still-rigid cock. The weight of Robert Brantt’s glare bore down on him.