Crash Into Me

Matching the pace he set, she rode him desperately, raking her nails down his torso and squeezing his pectoral muscles, slipping her fingers into his mouth for him to suck.

When he licked the pad of his own thumb and placed it against her clitoris, she was so wet and sensitive that one touch sent her skyrocketing.

Gripping her hips tightly, he came, too, a hoarse cry wrenching from his throat in the moment of release.

For a long time, she lay sprawled across his chest, replete.

“I love you,” she murmured against his neck. His body tensed under hers as those words penetrated the sensual fog surrounding them. She lifted her head, wide-eyed and suddenly alert. “I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly.

He brought her head down to his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking her back. His words were almost swallowed by the sound of the surf pounding on the shore below, and the heavy thudding of his heartbeat, a frantic rhythm that matched her own.

CHAPTER 15

“Somebody’s here,” she said, placing a hand on his hip.

“Just Carly and James,” he murmured against the back of her neck, smoothing his palm over her stomach.

“No,” she whispered, sidling away from him. “Two men. Coming upstairs.” She cocked her head, listening. “Do you have a gun?”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “What?”

“Go in the bathroom,” she ordered, jumping up from the bed. Not waiting to see if he complied, she searched the room for a ready weapon. Knowing she had only seconds to spare, she jerked one of the upper drawers from his dresser, shook its contents onto the floor, and stood beside the door, stark naked, ready to brain someone with it.

Ben gaped at her incredulously.

“Get out of the line of fire,” she whispered, motioning him with her free hand. “You don’t have a gun, but these guys do. I can tell by the way they’re moving.”

Instead of leaving her to her own devices, he planted his back against the wall beside her, and when Special Agent Colby Mitchell kicked in the door, Ben jumped.

Sonny didn’t.

She swung the mahogany drawer up, hitting Mitchell under the forearms and causing him to discharge his weapon into the ceiling. A cloud of plaster rained down on them. Although she’d banked her strength as soon as she recognized him, the impact must have been excruciating, for Mitchell fell to his knees.

She was on his back, with control of his gun, in the blink of an eye.

“Drop it,” a voice said from behind her.

A bead of cold sweat ran down her spine. She trained the weapon on the back of Mitchell’s head and cast a glance over her shoulder.

Grant was pointing his service revolver at Ben.

Underneath her, Mitchell began to shift. She never should have looked back. In that moment of distraction, he gained the upper hand. He rolled over her, crushing her underneath him, knocking the air from her lungs and smashing the back of her head against the hardwood floor. Disconcerted, she tried to put the gun between them, but Mitchell plucked it from her hands like he was taking candy from a baby.

Damn. He’d been practicing.

She was down, but not out, so she managed to get enough leverage to aim a hard right at his left eye. He moved at the last second, and her fist glanced off his cheek, opening up the skin. Facial wounds were gushers, and she was pleased to have drawn first blood, although a blow to the eye socket would have been more effective.

In retaliation, Mitchell backhanded her across the face so hard she saw dark flashes.

“Are you done?” he asked.

She bared her teeth. “Get off me, you ape.”

At the open doorway, Grant lowered his weapon. “Are you Benjamin Lyndon Fortune?”

Ben placed a hand over his heart, as if to make sure it was still beating. “Yeah. Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Special Agent in Charge Leland Grant and this is Special Agent Colby Mitchell. We need to take you in for questioning.”

Sonny’s eyes flicked over Grant. The sound of her voice last night must have tipped him off to her wanton behavior, but she’d never have guessed he would fly in on the next plane, or try to take Ben into custody by force.

“Call off your dog, Grant,” she said wearily.

“Let her up,” he said, gesturing to Ben. “Get him instead.”

As Mitchell released her, Ben’s eyes narrowed. “You know these guys?”

Her stomach churning with dread, she stared down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “Just do what they say, Ben.”

“Can I put my pants on first?” His tone was surly and bewildered, an understandable reaction from a super-rich judge’s son who had never expected to be manhandled by the police. Or betrayed by a woman.

Grant motioned his assent. “Please do. Let’s all holster our weapons, so to speak, and proceed in a rational manner.”

Ben took it all in and came to the natural conclusion. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?” He jerked his pants up, shooting her an angry glare. “You lying fucking bitch. You’re a cop.”

Mitchell forced a laugh. “Look how bent out of shape he is. You must be dynamite in the sack, Vasquez.”

“Fuck you, Mitchell,” she bit out, mad at herself for letting him get the best of her, although her pride was stinging more than her face.

“Anytime, baby.”

Sonny dragged on her own clothes, aware that Mitchell was ogling her nude form and furious with Grant for allowing it.

She’d just been demoted, and this was part of her punishment.

“By the way, I like what you’ve got going on downstairs,” Mitchell added, elbowing Ben in the ribs. “Don’t see that every day, do you? Usually it’s the other way around. Light on top, dark down below.”

Ben wasn’t much of a fighter, but there was only so much insult a man could take in his own home. With a low growl, he drew back his arm and sent his fist into Mitchell’s stomach. Mitchell didn’t even flinch. Ben shook out his hand, wincing, and Mitchell had him facedown on the carpet, hands cuffed behind his back, before he could say Ouch.

“You want to resist some more, motherfucker?” Mitchell panted.

Ben’s response was muffled, but it sounded affirmative. Not amused by his attitude, Mitchell jerked Ben to his feet, handling him with deliberate roughness.

Grant turned his dispassionate gaze to Sonny. “Speaking of body hair, thanks for the sample, Special Agent Vasquez. We’ve got a positive match on Lisette Bruebaker, from above and below stairs.” He gave her a pitying look. “I regret that you had to take such extreme measures to collect it from this bed.”

Sonny began to pull on her socks and shoes in silence, clenching her jaw until her teeth ached. By implying that sleeping with Ben had been part of her official duty, Grant was protecting her, but she was too devastated to feel relieved.

Grant inclined his head at Ben. “You’re a popular man, Mr. Fortune. Getting your money’s worth out of that Egyptian cotton.”

Sonny glanced at Ben, gauging his reaction. The expression on his face, when he realized she’d been deceiving him from the beginning, tore her apart. She watched every tender emotion he’d felt for her wither up and die.

“I want my lawyer,” he said, eyes cold.

“Take him downstairs,” Grant ordered, dismissing Mitchell and Ben with a wave of his hand. When they were out of earshot, he turned to Sonny, his steely gray eyes speculative. Her boss was a hard-ass, but he’d never been deliberately cruel. He was aware of her history with men and had always treated her with respect. The look he gave