Free Cold Day in Hell by Monette Michaels Page A

two fingers with her vaginal muscles and sobbed. “Please?” Please take the decision out of my hands.
    “Fuck, baby, I’m a millisecond away from shoving you up against the tile wall and taking you hard and fast. Yes or no?”
    Her heart pounded. Her breathing was rapid and choppy. She was so close to coming. But his question had her rational brain taking over, examining all the options.
    Did she want this? Hell, yes. But did she want her first time with Risto to be in a shower?
    With cameras taping every shadowy move, recording every moan, every cry? Fuck, no.
    But what if she never got the chance to have him? God, no, I can’t let that happen. She might have gone around in circles forever, if her growling stomach and another wave of light-headedness hadn’t made the decision for her.
    “Red light. Sorry. Red. I’m so sor—” She allowed her leg to slip down his calf until it finally touched the shower’s tile floor.
    Risto’s eyes glittered, the muscles in his jaw tightened. He removed his fingers from her pussy—slowly, their rough tips abrading every inflamed nerve over which they passed. She sagged as shallow spasms swept through her, a tantalizing taste of the climax she’d just missed.
    Risto swore and grabbed her waist to hold her up. He held her body slightly away from his. She braced her forehead on his glistening pecs and glanced down and spied the purple head of his massive erection leaking precum. He had promised to allow her to make the choice—and abiding by his vow was costing him a lot of pain. His chivalry, his control of his desire made her want him all the more.
    She looked up to apologize once more.
    “Hush.” Risto shook his head, his lips twisted into a smile full of self-recrimination.
    “I’m such a dog.”

    No! She shook her head and opened her mouth to deny that any of this was his fault, when he stopped her again. “Shh.” He placed his fingers over her lips. “You’re hungry.
    Stressed out. Tired.”
    He moved closer, hugging her to him until she was plastered against every throbbing inch of him. “Later.” He rubbed his bristly cheek over her hair. “Conn’s house will be safe. You’ll be able to relax. You can make the decision without so much pressure.” He was protecting her yet again. She stroked his neck, soothing the tension she found there. He wanted her, but would deny himself. But it was unnecessary. “What if I give you the green light … later?”
    Risto inhaled sharply and his hands tightened briefly on her waist. His mouth moved over her cheek to her ear. “I’ll fuck you, Callie … I’m not like your other men. I’m not nice or sweet when I fuck a woman. I’ll demand—and you’ll give me everything.”
    “Good.” She rubbed her cheek across his chest from one male nipple to the next. She turned her face slightly to place a butterfly-soft kiss on the bud lying under her lips. He groaned and she felt the rumbling in his chest. “I’m a woman, not a girl. And tonight, I want to be your woman,” she angled her head and stared him in the eyes, “in every way possible. Yours.”
    “My woman.” He nodded, his eyes filled with hints of dark fire. “All night. Mine.” Chapter Five
    The Jalapeño Rojo was a little hole-in-the-wall dive bar near the edge of the old city.
    While on assignments for SSI, Risto had eaten there before. Trey Maddox, Ren’s brother and co-owner of SSI, had introduced him to the place. It was clean, the food was excellent, and the owner, Tom Yates, was a former marine with dual US and Colombian citizenship who’d assisted SSI in the past. Semper Fi. Semper Fraternis.
    The hostess, Tom’s Colombian-born wife Rosa, recognized Risto from his previous visits and sat them at the gun-slinger’s table, a booth surrounded on three sides by thick walls with the front facing the main door to the bar.
    Risto guided Callie with a hand on the small of her back as they passed through the room to their table. No one stood out as