her.
Unfortunately for Benrabi, she wasn’t a young girl any longer. She was a trained undercover
agent. She also had backup. Sam would never let anyone hurt her. The more primitive side of her
thrilled to the idea of her Marine fighting to protect her. So much for her vaunted need to be treated
as an equal team member.
Sam was in her suite, waiting to feed her and, she suspected, to claim her. A shivery awareness
traveled over her body and settled between her thighs where it set her clit to pulsing. Her body
wanted him—and bloody hell, so did her mind.
Because no matter what they’d said last night over cheese, wine, and conversation, neither of
them really wanted to wait to see how good they could be together.
Bottom-line, she wanted the memory of his scent… his taste… and his touch before she had to
deal with the dregs of the earth later that evening.
The elevator opened onto her floor. Dawn stepped out and scanned her surroundings by opening
her senses, all five plus the survival instinct every undercover operative developed after delving in the
muck. If anyone was watching her, other than the security cameras, they weren’t triggering her fight-
or-flight instincts. Satisfied she was alone, she moved swiftly to her suite, slid her key card in the lock,
and then entered.
Chapter 8
“What took you so long?” Sam pulled Dawn against his side and shut and double-locked the
suite door one-handed. “I was just about to contact Conn.”
“Had to lose Benrabi’s bully boy.” Dawn stood on tiptoe and leaned into him, then brushed her
lips over his chin. Angling her head back, she smiled at him. “Hey there, Marine. Where’s my food?”
Sam growled, “Hold on, little cat,” then he picked her up and kissed her, slipping his tongue
inside her mouth and tasting her fully. She tasted like sunshine, sea air, and some fruity flavor that had
him hungering for more.
After several seconds, he broke off the kiss and set her back on her feet. It was all he could do
not to strip the ridiculous excuse for a swimsuit off her—and take her against the door.
“Does that kiss mean I don’t get to eat?” She looked him in the eye, her cheeks flushed from
her morning by the pool or from the kiss, he couldn’t tell.
“No, food first.” He stroked a finger over a high cheek bone. “Then we can revisit the kiss.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Dawn shed her cover-up, tossing it onto a couch, and moved toward the
counter that separated the small upscale kitchen from the main living area of the suite. Her round,
tight ass, neatly divided in half with a narrow turquoise strip of fabric, flexed as she walked—an erotic
tease that had him hard and aching. And tested his resolve.
“Fuck me,” Sam swore under his breath. His cock went from semi-erect to full-on erect in a
split-second. “Is that suit even legal?”
“In the Caribbean—it seems to be.” She looked over her shoulder and grinned. “This is far
more coverage than I’ve had on some Interpol undercover assignments. One time my team assisted
the Marseilles police to shut down a Moroccan drug ring operating out of Southern France beaches
and the Marseilles docks. Oh, by the way, those were nude beaches. I had no gun. No knife. No wire.
Unlike SSI, Interpol had no cool communication devices like these—” She flicked a finger at her earring
containing a powerful receiver.
“That was the true meaning of being naked.” Dawn twisted open a bottle of water and took a
healthy drink and then sighed. “That’s so good. It’s hot as hell outside.”
As she’d relayed a bit of her past, full-blown fear consumed Sam, turning his insides icy hot like
a ring in Dante’s hell. North African drug traffickers were some of the most vicious and Marseilles was
a cess pool of violence. Dawn could’ve died—and she talked about the experience as if it were just
another day in law enforcement… a walk in the fucking park.
Yeah,