Hot as Sin (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #2)(52)
Author: Bella Andre

Her beautiful skin was flushed and rosy as she took his hand and placed it in the center of her chest. “Nothing is going to change what’s in my heart.”

Slowly stroking the pulse point in her neck with the tips of his fingers, he knew he’d never tire of looking at her, kissing her, laughing with her.

“What if I’m the one who’s in a rush?” he asked in a husky voice.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and when her long limbs shifted against his, the sensual friction of their bodies amped up yet another level.

“I love you, too,” he said. “I never stopped loving you, Dianna. I just tried to convince myself that I had.”

“You were pretty convincing,” she teased, but he hated to hear the lingering doubts behind her words.

“No, I was an idiot. And I only hope I can be the man you need me to be the second time around.”

Her lips pressed gently to his. “You’ll never run out of chances with me, Sam. I’m yours from here on out, whether you want me or not.”

He grasped her perfectly shaped rear end and pulled her against him so that his growing hard-on was nestled between her soft thighs.

“You have no idea how much I want you. I’ve wanted you every single second, even when you were in that hospital bed telling me to get the hell out.”

He brushed his fingers across her flat stomach and she sucked in a breath as he slowly trailed his fingertips over her midsection, the soft swell of her br**sts, until goose bumps covered her skin. Wanting to touch every inch of her, he moved his hands to cup her br**sts with his palms, then rubbed his thumbs across her tight ni**les.

“Sam,” she gasped, “it feels so good. You feel so good.”

He brought his mouth down over one perfect, erect nipple and she arched into his mouth, trying to get even closer to him, and he marveled at how responsive she was to the slightest nip of his teeth on her sensitive flesh.

“How could I have possibly lived without you for so long?” he asked as he ran his mouth down her torso, aiming for the soft flesh on the undersides of her perfect br**sts, her smooth stomach, then farther still, down to the shadowed vee between her thighs.

His fingers found her first, wet and slick, and then she was opening her legs for him and pushing her pelvic bone against his hand. Knowing what she wanted, he slid one finger inside her heat at the exact moment that he covered her mound with his mouth.

Loving her cries of pleasure, he slowly swirled the hard nub of her arousal with his tongue as he slid his finger in, then out, of her.

How could he have thought that he’d ever get enough of her? What an idiot he’d been.

And then, she was kicking off the sheets and sliding down his torso, her ni**les branding his chest, and he was almost too deep in his fog of desire to realize that she had opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

Oh God, it felt so good when she took him inside, high and deep, again and again until he was losing control and they were driving into each other, making up for lost time with each thrust.

It was so easy to say “I love you” again, and then she was moaning his name and her inner muscles were pulling and squeezing his shaft as he roared with pleasure.

In the aftermath of their lovemaking, their stomachs full, their bodies sated, they held each other tight and slept.

———

The man’s eyes hadn’t left the girl all night long, partly to make sure she didn’t escape, partly to make sure she didn’t die on him before her sister arrived. He hadn’t known his own strength until now, hadn’t realized he could hit quite so hard.

Even though he’d barely slept in two days, he wasn’t particularly tired. Not when rage still fueled him.

The previous evening, he’d left the campgrounds utterly furious. There hadn’t been a single opening for him to grab Dianna. Not with the big fireman hovering around her like an annoying fly. But he had listened in from the sidelines when they spoke with the police, knew they were staying up at Peter Cohen’s Farm. Twenty years ago, they’d had mutual friends, but Peter had ended up being more into peace than selling pot, disappearing up into the woods soon after to live with his green-loving friends, far away from the meth-soaked kids who made for good business.

He’d realized, then, that he had to come up with an alternative plan. And then he hit on it, the perfect bait, a clue to finding her sister that she couldn’t resist following up on.

The girl had been limp, pale, and sweaty by the time he lifted her out of his trunk and dragged her back inside her closet. Perhaps he’d left her there for too long in the sun, with little oxygen, he thought dispassionately. At least she was still breathing.

He’d immediately paid Mickey off and told him not to return. The rest of his motley little drug-making staff was still on mini holiday as well, which left him alone with the girl. He could have easily made use of her unconscious body, but besides the fact that he’d never been into blondes, sex wasn’t so much as a blip on his radar now. Revenge alone drove him.

He’d been sorely tempted to put his plan into motion that evening, but he could see that the major storm blowing through might complicate things. Knowing that the limp girl in the closet clearly wasn’t going anywhere, not in her current condition anyway, and that the flash rains would die out by morning, he decided to bide his time, let his rage simmer a little longer.

At sunrise, he stepped outside and saw that it was, indeed, another beautiful day in the Rockies.

The perfect day for a murder. Two, in fact.

Five minutes after making a short phone call on an untraceable line, he grabbed his keys, laced up his hiking boots, and headed out the door.

Dianna Kelley—and her broad-shouldered boyfriend—were about to walk straight into his trap.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SAM’S EYES opened as the first rays of light were finding their way in through the sheer curtains. Waking up with Dianna warm in his arms was as good as it got.

“Good morning,” she said, rubbing against him like a frisky cat. He began kissing her, but just as his hands and mouth were getting carried away, loud knocking sounded at the front door.

Dianna yanked herself out of his arms, gasping in alarm.

“I’ll go see who it is,” he said, his instincts immediately telling him this wasn’t another tray of food.

Something had happened.

Peter was standing on the porch looking uneasy. “The police called. They just received a tip about April.”

“We’ll be right out,” he said, turning to find Dianna standing close behind him, still wrapped in the sheet.