back.”
The heat of the day had lingered long past sunset. He paced on the concrete sidewalk in front of their room, debating on sharing his misery and stupidity with his partners.
But he’d never been the type of guy who spilled his guts. Mostly he’d sucked up his problems. When that didn’t work he sucked down large amounts of tequila. Not an option when he was on duty.
Something sharp pierced his heel. He glanced at his bare feet. Shit. He’d been so hell bent on escaping from the dismayed look on Kenna’s face he’d forgotten his damn shoes. Cursing, he dug in his pocket for the room key and unlocked the door.
She sat on the end of the bed, to-go carton on her lap. The sandwich untouched. She didn’t bother looking up.
Her complete posture of dejection cracked that hard part of his soul he’d toughened years ago. Survival in his day-to-day dealings with criminals demanded that no part of him remained soft.
But Kenna was soft. He didn’t have to be hard, crude and arrogant with her.
Drake knelt on the carpet at her feet. “I’m sorry.”
Surprised, she gazed into his eyes. Nodded.
“You need to eat. Here,” he picked up the box and set it on the table. “Sit down. I’ll get you a soda.”
She slid into the wobbly chair. “No caffeine.”
“Anything else?”
“A bag of M&Ms would go a long way in redeeming yourself.”
He smiled. “Done.”
After she’d wolfed the sandwich, a bag of SunChips, a package of chocolate chip cookies and the M&Ms, she climbed in the shower.
The floral scent of her shampoo wafted into the room. Drake closed his eyes, steeping himself in her fragrance. Filling his mind with images of her damp skin gliding across his.
He wanted her. Wanted to taste her, warm and soft from the shower. Wanted to run his hands over every hidden hollow as she rode him hard. His cock jerked when the water shut off.
Better to avoid temptation and finish his paperwork. He spread out his notes, plugged in his laptop and didn’t acknowledge her when the bathroom door opened.
It was gonna be a long-ass night.
* * *
A few hours later Kenna had switched off the TV and announced she was tired.
By the way her eyes darted toward the door every few seconds, Drake knew she was lying. What did she have up her sleeve?
He played along, turned off the lamps and cracked the curtains a couple of inches, allowing the glow from the stadium lights in the parking lot to cut through the darkness. He slid the chain in place and depressed the lock on the doorknob.
Drake bid her goodnight. Smiling to himself, he crawled beneath the thin cotton sheets.
No way could Kenna get out of this room without him hearing. No doubt she’d try.
Kenna was going crazy. She had to get out of this room, just for five minutes to keep her promise to call Marissa.
Especially in light of the concerns Marissa had raised this afternoon about Agent March, his agenda and his associates. Marissa might even go to the cops if she suspected Kenna was in trouble. Kenna doubted that scenario would please Mr. DEA.
Motorcycles rumbled, doors opened and shut, bottles chinked on the sidewalk. Male shouts sounded, followed by uproarious female laughter. Squealing tires. The roar of an ignition. Horns beeping. Police sirens wailing. Southern rock blaring.
She heard it all, but the only noises she cared about were the ones inside the motel room.
Finally soft snores echoed from his bed.
Thank God he’d fallen asleep fast. She’d sneak out, use the pay phone in the parking lot and sneak back in. He’d never know the difference.
The air conditioner kicked on. Time to make her move.
Kenna eased aside the polyester bedcovers. Waited a minute and sat up slowly, careful not to squeak the mattress. Dropped her feet to the carpet. Her toes connected with her Birkenstocks and her feet glided across the familiar cork soles. Her heart thumped so loudly she was afraid Drake might hear it.
A deep snort almost rattled the windows,
The heat of the day had lingered long past sunset. He paced on the concrete sidewalk in front of their room, debating on sharing his misery and stupidity with his partners.
But he’d never been the type of guy who spilled his guts. Mostly he’d sucked up his problems. When that didn’t work he sucked down large amounts of tequila. Not an option when he was on duty.
Something sharp pierced his heel. He glanced at his bare feet. Shit. He’d been so hell bent on escaping from the dismayed look on Kenna’s face he’d forgotten his damn shoes. Cursing, he dug in his pocket for the room key and unlocked the door.
She sat on the end of the bed, to-go carton on her lap. The sandwich untouched. She didn’t bother looking up.
Her complete posture of dejection cracked that hard part of his soul he’d toughened years ago. Survival in his day-to-day dealings with criminals demanded that no part of him remained soft.
But Kenna was soft. He didn’t have to be hard, crude and arrogant with her.
Drake knelt on the carpet at her feet. “I’m sorry.”
Surprised, she gazed into his eyes. Nodded.
“You need to eat. Here,” he picked up the box and set it on the table. “Sit down. I’ll get you a soda.”
She slid into the wobbly chair. “No caffeine.”
“Anything else?”
“A bag of M&Ms would go a long way in redeeming yourself.”
He smiled. “Done.”
After she’d wolfed the sandwich, a bag of SunChips, a package of chocolate chip cookies and the M&Ms, she climbed in the shower.
The floral scent of her shampoo wafted into the room. Drake closed his eyes, steeping himself in her fragrance. Filling his mind with images of her damp skin gliding across his.
He wanted her. Wanted to taste her, warm and soft from the shower. Wanted to run his hands over every hidden hollow as she rode him hard. His cock jerked when the water shut off.
Better to avoid temptation and finish his paperwork. He spread out his notes, plugged in his laptop and didn’t acknowledge her when the bathroom door opened.
It was gonna be a long-ass night.
* * *
A few hours later Kenna had switched off the TV and announced she was tired.
By the way her eyes darted toward the door every few seconds, Drake knew she was lying. What did she have up her sleeve?
He played along, turned off the lamps and cracked the curtains a couple of inches, allowing the glow from the stadium lights in the parking lot to cut through the darkness. He slid the chain in place and depressed the lock on the doorknob.
Drake bid her goodnight. Smiling to himself, he crawled beneath the thin cotton sheets.
No way could Kenna get out of this room without him hearing. No doubt she’d try.
Kenna was going crazy. She had to get out of this room, just for five minutes to keep her promise to call Marissa.
Especially in light of the concerns Marissa had raised this afternoon about Agent March, his agenda and his associates. Marissa might even go to the cops if she suspected Kenna was in trouble. Kenna doubted that scenario would please Mr. DEA.
Motorcycles rumbled, doors opened and shut, bottles chinked on the sidewalk. Male shouts sounded, followed by uproarious female laughter. Squealing tires. The roar of an ignition. Horns beeping. Police sirens wailing. Southern rock blaring.
She heard it all, but the only noises she cared about were the ones inside the motel room.
Finally soft snores echoed from his bed.
Thank God he’d fallen asleep fast. She’d sneak out, use the pay phone in the parking lot and sneak back in. He’d never know the difference.
The air conditioner kicked on. Time to make her move.
Kenna eased aside the polyester bedcovers. Waited a minute and sat up slowly, careful not to squeak the mattress. Dropped her feet to the carpet. Her toes connected with her Birkenstocks and her feet glided across the familiar cork soles. Her heart thumped so loudly she was afraid Drake might hear it.
A deep snort almost rattled the windows,
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