Something wild came alive inside him; she felt it in the sudden grab of his hands, the harsh strike of his breath as he pulled back and then went for her mouth again, deeper, more demanding.
In a frantic struggle of arms, tongues, and shuffling feet, they moved into the dark living room, trailing clothes behind them one discarded item at a time.
They didn’t make it to the couch, but wound up naked on the rug.
Aidan pushed her knees up, covered her body with his, and entered on one sure thrust. They both gasped.
“God,” Sam whispered, spine arching away from the carpet.
He flexed his hips, pressing deep inside her, pinning her to the floor, filling her so completely.
She closed her eyes and held onto him with arms and legs as he sought a rhythm. Just before she shattered, he said, “I love you.”
Thirty-Four
“Cinnamon, banana nut, and pumpkin,” the waitress announced as she set a heaping plate of muffins in the middle of their table. Steam curled up from the sugar-coated tops, dispersing the aromas into the air.
Aidan took a deep, appreciative breath. “Thanks, doll.”
The waitress grinned and departed.
“What’s with you yanks and your pumpkin-fucking-everything?” Fox asked, poking at one of said pumpkin muffins with his fork. “Forget apple pie. Nothing’s as American aspumpkin.”
Aidan lifted his brows, bit into a cinnamon muffin, and spoke around it. “So the plan.”
Fox nodded. “The plan.”
“Ellison’s own house isn’t gonna be easy to get into like all those safe houses,” Carter lamented.
“No,” Fox agreed. He’d decided to eat the pumpkin after all, transferring two to his plate and licking his fingers afterward. “Which is why we’re going to have to be smart about it, yeah? We need decoys.”
Aidan’s stomach clenched unhappily at the idea.
Greg had described Ellison’s personal residence as an impressive mansion with iron gates and tight security. Staff came and went through the main gate with a key code. Guests were viewed on camera and buzzed in at the owner’s discretion.
Carter had proposed that they dress as workmen and throw a ladder in the back of the truck. Fox had pointed out that since no workmen were scheduled, that would be suspicious.
“We’re gonna have to use women,” he said now, chewing. “It’s the only way to get inside without tipping them off too soon, and they won’t be expecting us to hit them that way.”
According to Greg, Ellison spent little time at the home, but several of his men were housed there full time and had gotten in the habit of ordering up Friday night entertainment. Every Friday, two call girls arrived at ten o' clock and left sometime after one. Greg had been there a time or two when it happened and knew the name of the agency.
“If two girls get in,” Fox said, “they can help us get in. Being there isn’t the issue, but getting in is.”
Aidan had been thinking the opposite to be true.
“So we’re gonna pay call girls to help sneak us in?” he asked, frowning and full of doubt.
Fox snorted. “You ever met a trustworthy call girl? No. We need someone we can trust. Someone smart. Someone loyal.”
“They know all the old ladies,” Carter said.
Aidan pushed his plate away; he thought he might be sick. “Not all of them. They don’t know mine.”
~*~
Sam had awakened that morning with the night before tattooed across her skin. Little spots of rug burn along her back. A bruise on her shin where they’d tripped heading up the stairs. A high school-worthy hickey just under her ear that she was forced to wear her hair down to hide. When the alarm went off, she’d opened her eyes to find herself snuggled deep in Aidan’s embrace, beneath the down comforter on her bed, the two of them cocooned in warmth, smelling of sex.
Could she regret what happened? No.
