Free Reckless by Samantha Love Page A

me rolling my eyes. But I know Diego possesses the means to back it up, and as I lose myself in the depth of his eyes and their all-consuming intensity, my legs weaken.  
    His hands slide behind me, holding me steady and close.  
    Any reservations I have are quelled by a simple excuse: this is for the job, this is for the job, this is for the job. So when his lips press against mine, I let myself go, slipping my tongue into his mouth for the sake of national security.  
    Diego’s hand squeezes my ass, pulling me against the bulge in his pants.  
    He’s huge.
    I become wet at the thought of him laying me down in the grass, spreading my legs, and claiming me. Or maybe he intends for me to drop to my knees, open his fly, and suck his cock until he explodes.  
    My whole body trembles at the possibilities and the realization that I don’t have to hold back. Nick and José can’t hear. This isn’t being recorded. How I earn Diego’s trust never has to become official record.
    His hand sliding up my legs gives me pause. I’m so wet and enthralled that I almost forget the obvious. The stupid CIA hardware is still taped to my inner thigh.  
    I’m so hot with desire that my body tells me to lose myself in the act and let Diego rip it off my flesh and take me.  
    His hand pulls the zipper of my dress.  
    This wakes me up. Diego isn’t going to spank me or give it to me hard if he discovers the device. He’s going to break my neck and throw me off the edge of this cliff.
    I pull away.  
    “Not so fast. I’m a properly raised girl from Georgia.”
    I pry his hands away.  
    “Georgia? I thought you said you were from LA?”
    “I am from LA, but I originally grew up in Georgia. I’m still a southern girl at heart. And we southern gals aren’t that easy. We’re proper ladies.”
    Diego doesn’t get mad. A smirk forms across his face. I think he enjoys the challenge—that or he’s amused by my assertion of being a proper girl with half my dress undone.
    “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to do anything you didn’t want to. I can take it slow. If you can .”
    He says it like a challenge put forth. Part of me wants to excuse myself to the nearest restroom so I can remove this device and chuck it over the mountainside. I could then tell Diego that the LA whore inside me is too strong to deny.  
    Where do I get such thoughts?  
    This man has me thinking in ways so uncanny for me. Maybe it’s the wine and the altitude giving me these decadent ideas.
    “I appreciate your understanding,” I say in a voice that is almost a moan.  
    I doubt the pale light of the moon can hide my florid cheeks.
    “Of course. Slow is better.”
    Diego takes my hand and leads me back down the path.  
    I’m so hot between the legs that every stride sends quick shudders through my body. I keep reminding myself that I’ve done the right thing. Diego is used to getting his way with women. If I submitted so easily, he’d look at me as just another cocktail waitress he had some fun with while out of town.  
    He needs a challenge, someone who makes him work for the prize.
    Diego doesn’t make a move the entire way back to the Dragonfly. Even though I’ve resisted him, it doesn’t feel that way when the vehicle stops in front of the hostel.  
    He kisses me one last time.
    “Be a proper girl this evening. I don’t want you doing anything naughty.”
    The implication is clear. He doesn’t want me to touch myself or get myself off. The audacity of his words is striking.  
    Who says that to someone else?  
    Hot air rushes between my lips as I tell him I won’t.  
    I gather my spare clothes and step out.
    “When will I hear from you again?” I ask.
    “Soon.”
    Diego pulls the door shut and the SUV drives away.  
    The college-aged kids are still hanging around.  
    I feel like a total whore walking through the courtyard. My dress is scrunched up and my hair is disheveled. I probably look like I just got bent over in an