“Among other things,” she said vaguely before turning to her boss. “What did I miss?”
Noelle quickly filled her in, finishing with, “Don’t bother unpacking. You’ll be accompanying Callaghan.”
Isabel frowned deeply, but she didn’t question her boss’s latest decision.
“Isabel, I want you to contact the Reilly brothers,” Noelle continued. “Tell them to look into Lassiter’s movements for the past couple of months. I want to know where he went, what he did, who he met with.”
As the blonde barked out a few more details to Isabel, Juliet sidled up to Trevor and flashed him a smile. “So you and I are going for a little airplane ride.”
“Ethan too.” Trevor gestured to the rookie, who was eyeing Juliet with visible mistrust.
She waved a hand. Her fingernails were short and rounded, painted a dark blue that added to the bad-girl vibe she was throwing off. “We’ll just pretend he’s not there,” she whispered with a conspiratorial wink.
Trevor couldn’t help but laugh. The woman had balls—that was for sure.
But his response earned him a dark look from Isabel, who he knew was listening to the entire exchange even as she nodded at Noelle’s instructions.
She was jealous. There was no mistaking the red hue to her cheeks, the tight jaw, the flash of irritation in her blue eyes.
Everything she’d confessed out in the grove returned to his head now, reminding him of the insight he’d reached right before they’d been interrupted. He’d realized there was a reason for Isabel’s emotional detachment, for her fears and insecurities. There was a reason she’d run away from him all those months ago.
As frustrating as her excuses were and as annoyed as he was by her determination to keep him at arm’s length, backing off was the last thing he ought to be doing.
In fact, he suspected it might be time to push her. It wasn’t a strategy he usually employed—he believed in letting people deal with their issues in their own time, in their own way. But Isabel’s problem was that she refused to deal with a damn thing. Instead of letting herself be vulnerable, she hid behind her various disguises.
He wasn’t sure he even blamed her. If he’d grown up with a mobster for a father, a man who solved problems not with words but in a back room, he’d probably have some issues of his own.
A push, he decided. Just a little tiny push.
“You can sit in the cockpit with me if you want,” he told Juliet, keeping his tone casual but loading a touch of heat into his expression.
She let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, I would love to sit on—I mean, in your cockpit, baby.”
He shot her a crooked grin. “You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?”
Noelle’s razor-sharp voice put an end to the flirty exchange. “For fuck’s sake, Callaghan, put your dick back in your pants and gather your gear.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Ethan. “Come on, let’s do this shit.”
The two men went inside and ducked into their respective guest rooms. Trevor was just about to shut the door when he heard her footsteps.
Hiding a smile, he poked his head out and said, “Hey, come to say good-bye?”
Isabel’s blue eyes burned with anger. “What the fuck was that, Trevor?”
“What was what?” Nonchalant, he beckoned her to enter.
She practically stomped into the room. He’d never seen her so pissed off, so rattled. Normally she hid her emotions behind those easygoing smiles of hers, but not now. Now her face displayed everything she was feeling.
She looked fucking gorgeous.
“You were flirting with Juliet,” she said in accusation.
“So?”
With a shrug, he crossed the room and unzipped one of the large duffels he’d liberated from the compound. As he began putting together a go bag, he felt Isabel’s incensed gaze boring a hole into his head.
“So?” Incredulity dripped from her voice. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What else do you want me to say?” He checked the clip of his SIG, then tossed her a quick look. “Should I apologize for flirting with another woman? We’re friends, remember? There’s no reason why I can’t flirt with your colleague, Iz.”
“Since when do you play games?”
He stood up and stripped off his T-shirt.
Isabel sucked in her breath.
The desire that heated her eyes did wonders for his ego, but he forced himself to stay the course he’d set, no matter how turbulent it might get.
“I’m not playing games,” he lied. “I happen to find Juliet very attractive.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
He strapped a Kevlar vest to his torso before reaching for his discarded shirt. Shoulder holsters went on next, guns slid inside, and then he cocked his head and glanced at Isabel. “I’m about to drop trou. If that’s something you don’t wanna see, I’d leave now.”
“I’ll stay,” she said tightly.
He fought a grin and unzipped his pants. They hit the floor with a soft thud.
This time, when her breath hitched, he knew it had everything to do with the unmistakable erection straining against his boxer briefs. Yep, he was harder than a concrete block, and it had everything to do with the beautiful blonde glaring daggers at him.
But it wouldn’t hurt to imply otherwise.
“Like I said, Juliet’s attractive. Sexy, in fact.” He plopped down on the edge of the bed, strapping a holster on one ankle and a knife sheath on the other.
Isabel moved closer. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are. And it’s damn childish of you.”
His gaze dropped to the hard ridge of his crotch. “There’s nothing childish about me, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks turned the sexiest shade of pink. He could see her pulse hammering in her throat, and when he met her eyes, the need he glimpsed in them took his breath away.
“Don’t.” Her voice was softer than a whisper.
He puckered his brow. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t sleep with her.” She paused. “With Juliet, I mean.”
At first he thought she was kidding. He nearly laughed out loud, but then he saw the sheer misery on her face and realized she was genuinely worried that he might screw Juliet. A woman he’d known for all of five minutes.
Aw, hell, perhaps there was a reason he didn’t play games.
The direct approach was so much more effective.
“I’m not going to sleep with Juliet,” he said gruffly. “Fuck, Isabel, do you really think I’d sleep with someone who . . .” He trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Someone who what?”
Trevor let out a ragged breath. “Who isn’t you.”
Her mouth formed a cute little O.
“You are the one I want,” he reiterated.
He still hadn’t put on his pants, and his erection was at full salute as he stalked toward her.
“Trevor,” she started.
“Kiss me good-bye.”
Those blue eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me. Kiss me good-bye.” When she just stood there like a mute, he quirked his lips. “Who knows what’ll be waiting for us at Lassiter’s place? I might never see you again—do you really want to deprive me of one last kiss?”
“Don’t say things like that. This isn’t good-bye, and you know it.”
“All I know is that it’s been five months since I had a taste of you.”
He moved closer, bringing one hand to her cheek. Lord, her skin was softer than silk. His gaze fastened on her mouth, and damned if she didn’t lick her lips.
But her expression continued to flicker with reluctance.
“I won’t take it from you,” he said softly. “You’ve gotta give it to me, sweetheart.”
“I . . . can’t.”
His hand dropped from her face. “And I refuse to make it easy for you. If you’r
e determined to cling to the idea that we’re just friends, then go ahead and—”
She kissed him before he could finish, stunning him speechless.
A groan slipped out of his mouth when their lips touched. Christ, he’d forgotten how warm and pliable her lips were, how sweet she tasted. How real she was.
Most of the time, she could hide the real Isabel, fool him with that confident, professional disposition of hers, but right here and right now, with her mouth pressed against his, she was beautiful and genuine and incredibly vulnerable.
Trevor felt her hands trembling as she braced them on his chest, and when his tongue delved into her mouth in one smooth motion, hers responded tentatively, innocently.
His entire body burned with need. Unable to resist, he backed her into the dresser near the door and ground his aching erection into the cradle of her thighs. Isabel’s answering moan stoked the fire in his groin, bringing a husky groan to his lips.
She twined her arms around his neck, then lifted one leg and hooked it around his hip, deepening the connection between their bodies. He groaned again, his tongue exploring her mouth with hungry strokes, his hands gliding up her waist to cup her breasts over her tank top.
What was supposed to be a harmless good-bye kiss had spiraled into something hot and uncontrollable, and it took all of Trevor’s willpower to pull away.
They were both breathing heavily as he took several steps backward.
“I can’t be your friend,” he said roughly. “You get that, right?”
Isabel was wide-eyed again, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Just because you want to sleep with me? What, so if we don’t have sex, we can’t be friends?”
“You want to sleep with me, too.”
She began to look agitated. “Yeah, but if I had to pick one, I’d choose our friendship over sex any day.”
“Then it’s a good thing nobody is making us choose. We can be both, Iz. Friends and lovers. That’s what I want from you.” When she didn’t respond, he let out a breath. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?” she said warily.
“Think about it. Think about what you want from me. What you want from this. If it really is just friendship, then I’m sorry, but I can’t give that to you.” His voice sounded so raspy he paused to clear his throat. “You’re the first woman I’ve wanted since I lost Gina. The only woman I’ve wanted.”
He could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. “I know.”
“I can’t be satisfied with friendship. It would be too damn hard being around you, when we both know I want more.”
“I know,” she said again.
He put on his pants, then reached for his bag. “All or nothing, Iz. Think about it, okay?”
Her voice stopped him just as he reached the door.
“Trev?”
He glanced over his shoulder, a tiny balloon of hope inflating in his chest when he glimpsed the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “Yeah?”
The longer she stayed quiet, the more hopeful he became, especially when she took a tentative step forward and raised her hand slightly, as if she wanted to reach out to him.
Except then that hand dropped to her side, and the only words that came out of her mouth were, “Be careful.”
Pop. The hope burst, replaced with a pang of disappointment.
“I always am,” he muttered.
And then he left the room.
Chapter 8
D waited until Isabel was busy in the den before making his way to the master bedroom. The others had left for the airfield an hour ago—without him, much to his displeasure. But he was a man who knew how to pick his battles, and a routine visit to Lassiter was hardly worth expending his energy on. Might as well let the boys handle it. In the meantime, he’d regain his strength and play nice with Noelle.
For Morgan’s sake, anyway.
When he entered her bedroom without knocking, she didn’t seem at all surprised to see him.
Their eyes met from across the room.
“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he said roughly.
“Oh, am I?” She plucked a bottle of bourbon off the dresser. “Drink?”
“No.” He locked the door and walked toward her, not giving a shit if his scuffed boots dirtied up her rug.
Glancing around, D didn’t bother hiding his distaste. A canopy bed with a peach duvet, antique furniture, a shitload of flowers. Dudes like him didn’t belong in rooms like this.
Neither did the lethal bombshell standing before him. She might be wearing a dress, but Noelle was no lady, and these girlie surroundings didn’t suit her.
“So tell me, how am I playing with fire?” She tipped her head back and wrapped her lips around the bottle’s rim. Her long, elegant throat worked as she swallowed. She made a contented purr of a sound, then put away the bourbon and reached for the bottom of her skimpy blue dress.
“We both know you’re purposely toying with Trevor. The question is, why?” His eyes never left hers, but he heard the rustle of fabric as her manicured fingers lifted her dress.
“Maybe I’m just bored.”
Yeah, Noelle was definitely the kind of woman who’d get a kick out of tormenting men in her free time, but D knew boredom was not the reason she’d targeted Trevor. He also knew he would never get a straight answer out of her, so he didn’t push.
“What did you think of Juliet, by the way?”
D raised his brows. “What does it matter what I think of her? Did you bring her here for me? Would you like me to fuck her too?”
Noelle laughed. “If you want.”
The blonde pulled her dress over her head and let it drop to the carpet.
His gaze dropped south. Her full breasts, tipped by small pink nipples, gleamed in the dim lighting of the room.
Noelle’s thong came off next. Her blue eyes sparkled as she strode toward him.
Naked.
“You’re angry that I didn’t let you go with them, aren’t you?”
“Let me? I chose to stay behind. Make no mistake, if I wanted to be on that plane, I would’ve been on it.”
“Why did you stay then?”
The curvy blonde sat at the foot of the bed and watched him with interest. Propped one knee up a little, revealing her glistening slit. She always did shit like that, trying to unnerve the other person, remind them of her power.
D wasn’t unnerved. He was perfectly capable of standing his ground even while his gaze ate up what she was attempting to distract him with. “To keep an eye on you.”
She traced her kneecap with one red fingernail. “Because you don’t trust me? You don’t believe I’m sincere in my offer to help find your missing Morgan?”
He shrugged. “Of course I don’t trust you. I’d be a fool if I did.”
“Oh, honey, who are we kidding? You don’t trust women, period.”
She sounded far too amused by that, and it raised his hackles. But rather than utter a denial or an argument, he kept his mouth shut. The bitch was right anyway. He’d never encountered a female he’d been able to trust. He’d learned at a young age that women were duplicitous creatures, far more dangerous than their male counterparts. Particularly the ones he’d found himself surrounded by in recent years.
Noelle.
Abby Sinclair, who, he had to admit, had slowly begun to win his respect. Not his trust, though.
Olivia Taylor . . .
The thought of Luke’s girl had D’s chest knotting with discomfort. He and Olivia had shared an unsettling moment in Manhattan, and the woman’s perceptiveness had disturbed him on a whole other level. Her sympathy had infuriated him, her kindness had annoyed him. And her gentle embrace . . . Jesus.
He forcibly shoved the memory from his brain.
“Let’s not talk about trust,” D finally said. “Just know that I’m watching you.”
She gracefully rose from the bed. “Watch all you want.” Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “Now
shut up and take off your pants.”
He didn’t appreciate the commanding note in her voice, but again, he was quite skilled at picking his battles. Fact of the matter was, he could use a quick, uncomplicated lay, and Noelle, with her no-bullshit policy and smoking-hot body, was uncomplicated.
She was also the most complicated person he’d ever met. Figure that shit out.
Rather than take her on the bed, he led her to the small sitting area near the set of doors that also opened onto the courtyard. But the drapes were shut, giving them privacy.
He yanked on his zipper. Didn’t bother removing his black muscle shirt or even taking off his pants. He simply shoved them down so his erection sprang free, and rolled on the condom Noelle handed him. A few seconds later, he spun her around and bent her over the glass table. Without hesitation or warning, he slid into her with one deep stroke, but she was more than ready for him. Wet and tight, the heat of her surrounding his hard length.
This thing between them, it contained no tenderness. Neither of them was capable of that. They’d never even kissed, for Christ’s sake. Nope. What they had was straight-up, hard-core fucking. Hard thrusts and heavy breathing and low groans.
And always from behind.
His balls slapped against her ass as he screwed her, and when she squeezed her inner muscles against his dick, he growled and slid his hand between her legs to fondle her clit. She responded with a deep growl of her own and wiggled her bottom, meeting him thrust for thrust.
It lasted all of five minutes, and then they were both coming. Digging his fingers into her hips, D closed his eyes and let the release take over, pounding into Noelle until he was totally and utterly spent.
Damn. He’d needed that. He’d been too wound up lately, angry as hell and with no outlet for it.
Catching his breath, he withdrew, peeled the condom off and flicked it on the rug. Any other woman would’ve reamed him out, bitched that the floor was not a garbage can, but Noelle didn’t seem to care.
Without getting dressed, she plucked a pack of smokes from the table he’d just drilled her on and brought a thin cigarette up to her pouty lips. It was some European brand, and when she held out the pack, he extracted a smoke and leaned in so she could light it for him.