Free Hit: A Thriller (The Codename: Chandler) by J.A. Konrath, Jack Kilborn, Ann Voss Peterson Page A

intense than any exhibitionist thrill I’d ever had. I felt out of breath, maybe even a little dizzy.
    It had been way too long since I’d had this much fun. I wanted more. “Come back to bed.”
    “In a moment, querida . Right now I am too mesmerized by your beauty to move.”
    “You’re so full of shit.”
    “Am I?”
    I was starting to get impatient. “Yes. Now get back here and fuck me.”
    “So demanding.”
    “Afraid you can’t keep up?”
    “I’ve already given you three orgasms, my greedy chica .”
    “Afraid you can’t manage four?”
    “I can manage more than that.”
    “Prove it.”
    He took another swig from the bottle, then mouth still fresh with tequila, he climbed between my open thighs and brought his mouth to me.
    The first touch of his tongue sent ice through me, then as he slowly licked and teased, the sensation turned to flame.
    It had been a long time, all right, and I felt giddy with sex, drunk with it.
    I leaned my head back, savoring the warmth of his mouth, the grit of whiskers against sensitive skin, the fat, lazy strokes of his lips and tongue. The pressure built, only for him to pull away, and then kiss and caress and torment until it built again.
    Another orgasm claimed me, coaxing a scream from my lips before I could choke it back.
    “You are so beautiful.” Heath laughed, a warm sound, a nice sound. He moved up my body, grasped my chin with one hand, and claimed my lips.
    His mouth tasted like the two of us, mingled until we were one, and for a second, I let myself give in; to the kiss, to the man, to the longing I tried never to acknowledge.
    Then I felt the handcuff click around my wrist.
    I yanked my arm back, but he’d already fastened the bracelet to the bed.
    How did I not notice that?
    “What? You don’t like your kinky game now?”
    Of course, the handcuffs were from my purse, the ones I’d intended to use on Bratton if the need arose. I eyed Heath. If he passed out, and I was still cuffed to the bed like this…
    “Let me go, Heath.”
    “You don’t like?”
    “No. I only use those if the john likes to be tied up.”
    “Where did you get this?” He smoothed a hand over my abdomen and traced the small, white scar on the lower part of my belly button.
    It took me a second to figure out what he was asking, my thoughts sluggish, as if trying to fight through bats of cotton jamming my skull.
    Too long.
    He caught hold of my free hand, and before I could react, that wrist was secured to the other side of the headboard, this time with his tie.
    My head swam, dizzy, and my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth. All along I hadn’t been reacting to the booze or the sex or Heath’s charm.
    The bastard had drugged me.
    I wondered if it would be hypocritical of me to feel outraged.
    “What did you give me?” I asked.
    He straddled me, sitting on my thighs, making it impossible for me to move. “You should know, mamacita . Whatever it was came from the glass you poured for me.”
    Memory flashed like pictures in my mind. Heath painting my nipples with tequila. Heath taking my glass and downing his as he walked back to the dining room for more.
    Only he hadn’t actually drunk it.
    “Fuck.”
    I craned my neck to glimpse the tumbler on the nightstand. There was still a good amount of tequila left. I hadn’t had much. Maybe I could fight the effects, keep from losing consciousness.
    “Who trained you, Simone?”
    I glared at him, naked and astride me, his erection recovering quickly. “Trained? Trained in what? Giving you a hard on?”
    “Answer the question.”
    I shook my head. How had I been bested by a bodyguard? It wasn’t possible. But then… the thought escaped me. Whatever it was, my brain was too sluggish to keep up. Better not to say anything at all than something I would regret.
    “Who trained you, querida ? Did you call him The Instructor?”
    Heath
    Heath watched the slight flinch of recognition in her eyes, not that he needed the verification. They were