Skin slapped. Their bodies moved together in an erotic dance. Electricity raced down his spine with every stroke and driving thrust. Each time he slid out, she tightened around him, creating the most delicious friction when he pushed back in. He pumped into her, wanting to take it slow, wanting to draw out her second orgasm, but electrical charges were already snapping in his balls, and every time she moaned, every time her fingernails dug into his back, he couldn’t stop himself from moving faster, from pressing deeper, from driving them both harder toward a shattering climax he knew would feel so damn good.
“Oh, Landon . . .” She pulled her mouth from his, and as her sex clenched around him and her orgasm rocketed through her, that electricity sizzled and fired and rushed down his spine, exploding through his cock, blinding him with pure, mind-numbing pleasure, making every muscle in his body contract with the force of his release.
Long seconds passed, and slowly he realized she was limp beneath him and that he had to be crushing her. Pushing up on one hand, he looked down, worried that he’d hurt her, worried that he’d pushed things too far considering the stress her body was already under. “Olivia?”
Her face was tipped to the side, her hand and one leg hanging over the edge of the sofa. Her eyes were closed, but when he tried to ease back, she hooked a leg around his hip, stopping him from leaving all her silky, sexy heat. “Don’t you dare go anywhere. Not yet.”
Relief rippled through him. He relaxed against her, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against the soft skin of her neck. “I was worried I hurt you.”
“You seriously have to stop worrying about that.” She sighed. Lifted one hand and dropped it on his shoulder. “I liked that. Liked it so much, I think makeup sex now tops angry sex on my all-time-favorites list.”
He chuckled, amazed that she could be so lighthearted considering everything she was going through. Loved her even more because even though she had no reason to make this easier for him, she was. She made everything easy.
He pressed his lips against her neck and rolled them both to their sides. Her fingers slid into his hair, gently raking his scalp in a move that felt so damn good. Holding her tight, he breathed in the sweet lilac scent of her and closed his eyes.
“I’m gonna make this right,” he whispered.
She sighed and snuggled into him. “I know you will.”
He pushed up on his elbow and looked down at her, needing to see her eyes to know that she believed it. He wasn’t sure why, but he needed that confirmation more than he needed anything else right now. “I’m serious. I will. I need you to trust me.”
Her eyes slowly opened, and she blinked up at him. “I do.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Of course I do.” Her lips brushed his again, her fingers sliding along the scruff on his jaw. “But right now, I don’t want to think about it. Right now”—she kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, the edge of the scar near his eye—“we have seven plus hours until we get where we’re going. I don’t want to spend those hours arguing. All I want to do is spend them close to you.”
She clenched around his length, still inside her. “Make love with me again, Landon. I’m not ready to be done with you.”
He opened to her kiss. Couldn’t seem to do anything else. He wasn’t done with her either. Not by a long shot.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
“A friendly message from your captain, folks. We should be wheels down in ten minutes. Buckle up.”
A renewed host of nerves tingled in Olivia’s stomach as she smoothed her T-shirt over her hips and moved for her seat. Her body was loose and relaxed from three—no, four—mind-blowing orgasms and hours lying around the plane with Landon doing nothing but dozing and snuggling on that couch, but now that they were nearing the Caribbean island where Danica Crossler lived, all those worries and fears she’d had before lurched right back to the forefront of her mind.
Landon captured her arm before she could sit, slid his hands around her lower spine, and pulled her in close. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see. Trust me, okay?”
She drew in a quick breath before he kissed her, sinking into the softness of his mouth. She did trust him. But she couldn’t shake this feeling that he still wasn’t telling her everything. And that bothered her more than anything else.
She nodded when he drew back, worked up a smile she didn’t feel, and then gently eased out of his arms and sat near the window. “There’s a cluster of islands down there.”
“Yeah.” Landon sat next to her, latched his seat belt, and then reached over to hers, yanking it tight just as he’d done when they’d taken off. “We’re in the British Virgin Islands.”
Olivia’s brow lifted, and she glanced toward him. “Seriously? I’ve always wanted to vacation there.” She looked back out the window at the green landmass below and the ripples of water. “How did she end up here?”
The jet started its descent to the small airstrip, and Landon leaned back against his seat. “Her parents had a nice chunk of cash tucked away, which she took after they died. Said she wanted to live someplace warm. Mostly I think she just wanted out of Europe.”
“Where was she before?”
“An island in Greece.”
Olivia glanced his way again. His eyes were closed, his hands folded over his abdomen, much as they’d been when they’d taken off from Italy. She knew he had to be thinking about the day he’d killed Danica’s parents—who wouldn’t this close to seeing the girl again?—and that her prodding couldn’t be helping, but she had so many questions about this girl he obviously felt something for. Who she was, what she meant to him, why he was still such a big part of her life.
But something in the back of her mind warned that now wasn’t the time to ask. He was clearly stressing again, and after the last few hours, after the distance they’d seemed to bridge between them, she didn’t want to do anything to mess that up.
She reached across the armrest, closed her hand over his—as she’d done before too—and squeezed. But she didn’t look at him or push him or ask all those questions she so desperately wanted answers for. She simply looked back out the window. “It’s pretty. When you said the Caribbean, I was expecting some remote third world island off the coast of South America. This is way more fun. Maybe I’ll even get a tan.”
From the corner of her vision, she watched his eyes open, watched him turn his head and look at her with a bewildered expression, watched a sweet, mesmerizing smile slide over his scruffy face. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
He’d said that to her before. She turned and smiled back at him, not feeling particularly amazing at the moment. Feeling nervous and scared and ready to be done with this adventure for good. Now more than anything, all she wanted was to curl up with Landon in some remote Caribbean beach hut and forget about the rest of the world, but she knew that couldn’t happen. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever if he was going back to the DIA next week.
Dread slithered into her stomach to mix with the nerves and fear, but she looked back out the window at the steadily growing land so he couldn’t see her reaction and told herself that no matter what happened with him, she could get through it. She just needed to live in the moment and enjoy what she had right now. Not worry about a future that may or may not even be out there.
“Amazing is such a general term.” She worked hard for nonchalant when she felt anything but. “You need to come up with something more descriptive.”
His hand closed around hers against his belly, and he tugged on her arm, drawing her closer to him. Leaning in, he brushed his mouth over hers with a kiss that sent tingles all along her spine. “How about breathtaking. Stunning. Extraordinary. Heart-stopping. Electrifying. Arousing. Sexy as hell—”
A smile curled her lips against his mouth, and warmth bloomed all through her belly as the plane’s wheels touched down. “Now you’re just being overly dramati
c.”
“—fucking hot.”
She giggled against his lips, and he dipped into her mouth and kissed her with that incredibly wicked, extremely talented tongue of his until the blood rushed from her head and went straight into her sex, making her ache for his touch again, making her moan and reach for him so she could have more.
He drew back long before she was ready to let him go, smiled, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Okay, how about simply perfect?”
The plane slowed and made a gentle turn along the tarmac, but Olivia barely noticed, because her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest and all she could see was his soft brown eyes looking at her as if she was the only thing that mattered. As if he really did think she was perfect for him.
God, she wanted to be. Craved it the way she needed air to breathe. But she wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t even close. She was barely holding it together, worried about whatever was inside her and what it would eventually do, and what would happen if this girl Landon thought so highly of couldn’t neutralize it. And she was scared. Scared not just of all that, but of what was going to happen with him when it was all over.
He glanced past her out the window, and the soft smile in his eyes faded. He reached for her seat belt, sliding it free. “We’re here. It’s a twenty-minute drive from the airstrip. We’ll be there soon. Get your stuff. I’m gonna go say thanks to the pilots.”
He squeezed her hand, then pushed from his seat. And alone, Olivia blew out a slow breath and reminded herself to live in the moment.
Bright sunlight blinded her as she stepped from the plane minutes later. She held up a hand to block the blistering rays and drew in a deep breath of warm, salty Caribbean air, then moved down the steps. Two black Jeep Wranglers were parked only yards away from the plane, with two men lounging beside them. One man was dark, the other light, both were dressed in jeans, loose-fitting T-shirts, and sunglasses that made them blend in, but Olivia recognized the rigid stance and the tense shoulders. And without even asking she knew exactly who they were.
“Let me guess,” she said to Landon at her back. “Aegis?”
“Yeah.” He hefted the black duffel bag full of weapons that made her more than a little nervous over his shoulder and waved toward them both. As they drew close to the vehicles, Landon held out his hand and shook each of the men’s hands in turn. “Pierce Bentley, Raleigh Stone, this is Olivia Wolfe.”
Pierce Bentley, the fairer of the two, slid off his glasses and reached for her hand. Sharp blue eyes smiled down at her when he winked. “Welcome to paradise. I’m sure it doesn’t feel that way to you right now, but we’re here to make it as peaceful for you as we can.”
Olivia returned his handshake. “Thanks.”
Raleigh Stone, slightly taller than Bentley, bigger and rougher around the edges, gently slid the backpack Eve had packed for Olivia off her shoulder. “Y’all are probably tired. Your host has rooms and food set up for you both back at the plantation.”
Olivia glanced toward Landon, wondering just what that meant, but he didn’t meet her eyes.
He tossed his bag in the back of the second Jeep and took the keys Stone handed him. “Any problems since you’ve been here?”
“No,” Bentley answered. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But Crossler’s a pain in the ass to work with. She’s got people coming and going through that place right and left. I don’t know why the fuck she thinks security’s not important.”
Landon frowned. “Because she’s stubborn. I’ve been telling her that for years. We’ll follow you both up the coast.”
Olivia’s mind was once again spinning as Landon held the Jeep’s door open for her, helped her in, and then went around to the driver’s side. As the ignition turned over and they pulled away from the plane, a thought occurred. “We didn’t go through customs.”
“No.” He slid on a pair of sunglasses the guys had left for him on the console, handed her the second set, and then made the turn out of the small airfield. “Private island. The pilot has our passports. He’ll work it all out with the customs officials.”
“I don’t have my passport. I lost it in Sardinia.”
He pulled onto a small two-lane road. Towering palms lined the street, and white and pink buildings sat scattered between the trees. “Marley had a new one made for you when Eve and Zane picked us up in Tortoli.”
“Huh.” She looked out at the passing scenery as the wind whipped her hair across her face.
“Huh, what?”
“Nothing. I just find it a little ironic that you and the guys are complaining about Danica’s lack of security measures when any person can just get off a plane here and wander onto the island with hardly a second look.”
He chuckled next to her. “You’re right. We’re not in the US, and we didn’t fly into a major airport. But don’t worry, it’s safe. We’re just getting special treatment.”
They followed the first Jeep along a winding road that pulled away from a small village—the name of which Olivia never caught—and headed up the coast through a series of hills. Landon flipped on the radio, and steel drums mixed with a festive beat filled the late afternoon air. The sky above was clear and dotted with only a handful of clouds as the sun moved toward the horizon. Colorful bougainvillea lined the road. Coconut trees, tamarind, papaya, and white cedar rose on the left while the crystal-blue Caribbean Sea dropped off to Olivia’s right. She drew in a deep breath of the fruity tropical scents, loving the music, the warm breeze, and the smell of the water. Pierce Bentley had been right. It was like paradise—but every mile they drove toward some unknown plantation and the mystery woman who lived there lessened her enjoyment and set her back on edge.
The Jeep in front turned off the main road, and Landon followed. A large iron gate sat open, and as Stone shifted in the passenger seat of the Jeep ahead and waved his hand, Landon cursed under his breath.
They headed down a long drive lined on both sides by towering coconut trees. Oleander and hibiscus dotted the lawns. Beyond were banana trees and pineapple fields. Ahead, a colonial-style building sat at the end of the circular drive fronted by a fountain spraying water up into the air.
“Wow,” Olivia muttered. “That’s impressive.”
People milled around in front of the house. Local women in sundresses stood near the end of the porch chatting. A variety of children—all ages and nationalities—played in the yard. A small black boy, who looked to be no more than two, tromped through the fountain in nothing but a diaper.
“No fucking way this is secure,” Landon mumbled. He killed the ignition and climbed out of the rig, waving his hand at Bentley as he and Stone stepped out of the Jeep in front of them, clearly pissed there were so many people around.
Olivia unbuckled her seat belt and eased out of the car. Exhaustion plagued her. She hadn’t really slept on the plane, hadn’t slept much at all since she’d flown to Barcelona to see Landon, for that matter, but another kernel of worry niggled at the back of her mind. Was it just lack of sleep making her feel off, or something more?
A little girl in pigtails and a sundress ran up to her. She had to be about seven, Olivia guessed, her dark eyes sparkling, a wide smile splitting her coffee-colored skin to show off two missing front teeth. She handed Olivia a flower, said something in her native dialect Olivia didn’t catch, then a woman on the porch yelled something at her and she ran off before Olivia even had a chance to say thank you.
Landon stepped up next to Olivia, his shoulders tight, his mouth set in a grim line. He glanced at the flower and then quickly away. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
He ushered her up the steps. Columns flanked both sides of the covered porch. Double doors were already open, leading into the house.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He walked into the main living area, which was large and open and decorated with a traditional Caribbean flare—wood furnitur
e, bright cushions and throw pillows, a large fan twirling slowly above—but bypassed the people looking their way with curiosity and turned to his right.
Not knowing what else to do, Olivia smiled, waved, and hurried to catch up with him. He obviously knew where he was going, and the way she was feeling, she was pretty sure she’d be too tired to find him if she got lost.
“You don’t seem happy,” she said when she reached him.
“I’m not.” He moved down a curved staircase. “She knew we were coming. She knows what’s at stake here. She’s had plenty of time to get these freakin’ people off the property.”
He was pissed. She’d seen him ticked several times, but there was something about this that was different. Something she couldn’t pinpoint.
They dropped down one level. The walls down here weren’t as ornately decorated with moldings and fancy trim as they’d been upstairs, and as Olivia followed Landon along a narrow hallway, her nerves inched up little by little.
Alternative metal music echoed through an open doorway ahead. Landon didn’t bother to knock, just moved into the room, which Olivia quickly realized was a lab, set up with counters and test tubes and a huge island in the middle filled with all kinds of books and bottles and things she’d never be able to name. A door opened on the far side to another room, and above the back wall, high rectangular windows looked out at a view of the sky, letting natural light spill over the lab.
Landon perched his hands on his hips. “How the hell can you hear anything with that shit blaring?”
The dark-haired woman wearing low-rise denim shorts and a coral tank looked up from where she stood at the counter across the room jotting notes on a piece of paper. Her eyes focused on Landon, then a wide grin spread across her face. One that made her look as if she’d just hit the lottery.
“Landon.” She dropped her pencil, flipped off the stereo beside her, darted around the counter, and threw herself into his arms. “I’m so glad to see you.”