Stealing Taffy

  “Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Okay. Right. Then what do you do for a living?”

  He removed his teeth from her nipple. “I can’t tell you, Taffy.”

  “Well, that’s just silly. Why on earth not?”

  “I can’t even tell you why it is I can’t tell you.”

  “Hey, that’s not—”

  “Fair?” Dan’s lips covered hers and she decided she didn’t give a damn what this man did for a living. Fairness was overrated. In fact, she forgot what had annoyed her about the conversation to begin with. She didn’t care about conversation. She only cared that this incredibly sexy, rough-around-the-edges man from Brooklyn, New York City, had her hands pinned to the wall in a hotel room in Washington and was kissing her better than any man had ever kissed her in her whole entire life. She groaned into his kiss. She pushed her hips into the front of his body, suddenly impatient for the big bulge poking into her belly to be poking into her a little farther south.

  She felt Dan let her hands loose. The instant they were free she grabbed at the back of his neck, raised a leg as high as she could, and hooked it around his ass.

  Dan lifted his lips long enough to continue his teasing. “Greedy little Southern girl, aren’t you?”

  “I need it. I want it.”

  “What do you want, sweet thing?”

  “You.”

  “Come on, Taffy baby. Now isn’t the time to be all shy and retiring. Tell me what you really want.”

  “Oh, shut up and fuck me!”

  He growled.

  What happened next was a blur. Tanyalee watched Dan rip open a condom with his teeth, felt herself being lifted off the floor, and sensed her legs being spread wide by the pressure of his large body.

  “Push my pants down,” Dan said. He held her up with his hands beneath her thighs, then stepped away so she could reach. Tanyalee tugged at the opened trousers and the pair of boxer briefs beneath, and the biggest cock she’d ever seen sprang free.

  “There’s no way I’m ever—” Tanyalee had to stop in mid-sentence, because Dan somehow managed to hold her up with one hand, put on the condom with the other, and kicked away his pants and boxers without a hitch. It was the most impressive thing she’d ever seen a man do, and, frankly, she couldn’t wait to find out what else he was good at.

  Just then, he reached up and tore the crotch of her panties to shreds. Both his hands gripped her thighs again. Tanyalee felt light-headed. She didn’t know how she was going to handle all this man, but she was sure going to try.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  Dan kissed her again as he began to push into her, spreading her, opening her, slowly filling her inch by inch until she thought maybe she was having an out-of-body experience. Within seconds, Tanyalee heard her own muffled cry as a shocking orgasm ripped through her. Dan kissed her harder and gained further ground inside her body, and then he began really giving it to her.

  “Oh, my God!” she sobbed.

  “Damn, you feel so good. Que chocha, baby.”

  She had no idea what that meant but it made her come again. She screamed, then heard a banging on the wall that had nothing to do with Dan giving it to her but good.

  A man’s muffled voice said, “Keep it down in there!”

  “Ignore him and fuck me!” Tanyalee called out. “Harder! Faster! Give it to me! Oh, God, yes!”

  * * *

  This woman was going to kill him. Seriously. Dante was in top physical condition and this little piece of North Carolina ass was going to fucking kill him.

  He rolled off her and reached for the bottled water he’d ordered from room service about three sex sessions ago, along with sandwiches, a ham and cheese omelet, fruit salad, coffee, and ice cream. He took a big swig from the bottle and passed it to Taffy.

  “Thankyousoverymuch,” she managed, gasping for breath. He watched her prop herself on an elbow and gulp, her ladylike manners forgotten as the water trickled down her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat. He couldn’t stop himself—he leaned in and licked it off, which made her giggle.

  “You’re so naughty, Dan Carnes.”

  He flopped onto his back with a laugh. “Look who’s talking.”

  “Oh, so the big, bad boy from Brooklyn in New York City can’t handle little ole me?”

  Dan reached for the towel he’d brought to the bed two sex sessions ago and covered his face with it, wiping away the sweat and what he knew was a goofy smile. “I’m not entirely sure I can, sweetheart,” he answered, handing the towel to Taffy and watching out of the corner of his eye as she daintily patted at her forehead, throat, and chest. It made him smile, because with the first bit of morning light hitting her strawberry-blond hair and peach skin, she was almost the same soft color as the top she’d worn in the airport. He decided that when this was over—which would be real soon—he’d always think of her as Pink Taffy, pure sex poured into a prim and proper pink sweater.

  “Sweet baby Jesus!” Taffy collapsed on her back too, her perfect-handful set of breasts rising and falling as she focused on getting air in her lungs. The sheets were way beyond damp at this point, and Dante figured the maids wouldn’t be happy with how they’d managed to trash the place in just a few hours.

  She looked over at him and smiled. “What time is it?”

  “Probably about six. We’ve got some time yet.” He couldn’t help but smile back.

  They lay there like that for a long moment, eyes locked, smiles softening. Dante found himself reaching out for her small hand and felt a sense of relief when it was cradled in his own. They stayed that way for a few more seconds—a few seconds too many, obviously, because Taffy looked away, uncomfortable with what had just passed between them. What had just passed between them?

  Deep, deep shit.

  “Be right back.” Dante dropped her hand, delivered a peck to her cheek, and escaped to the bathroom, where he flipped on the light and shut the door. He needed to get a grip.

  Dante braced his hands on the granite countertop and stared into the wall-wide mirror. This wasn’t good. She’d been hot as hell and a lot of fun, but this hadn’t been the quickie he’d envisioned. They’d been at it all night, and Taffy had obviously grown attached to him. He sure as hell didn’t want to hurt her, but at this point he wasn’t sure how he’d make a bloodless exit.

  Dante tiptoed back to the bed, hoping Taffy would be asleep so he could slink out. He knew from experience that quick and cruel was sometimes the kindest approach of all.

  But Taffy was wide awake, smiling at him and sprawled out on her stomach now, her knees bent and feet crossed in the air above her. She was a slim woman but had some flesh on her in the exact places a man liked to see it, and right then, he had to admit that Taffy’s booty was a beautiful thing. Dante’s brain might have been ready to make an exit but his dick wasn’t, and he found himself crawling on the bed until he was on top of her again, this time with his front against her back.

  “Mmmm,” she purred, wiggling under him.

  “More?” Dante lifted her heavy, wavy hair from the back of her damp neck and kissed her there.

  “Yes, please,” she breathed.

  He figured there was nothing wrong with one last time for the road, and Dante reached for the single remaining condom on the bedside stand. As he put it on, he decided his plan would be to make this last time so hot and heavy that she couldn’t stay awake another minute, and when she was sound asleep, he’d grab the world’s quickest shower and get out of there while he could.

  Dante pulled Taffy up so that she was balanced on her hands and knees and left one arm looped around her slender waist. He pulled her tight. She did it again—wiggled her ass against him.

  “Put that thing away or I’ll take it from you,” he teased.

  She whispered, “I surely do hope so.” That hushed Southern accent was more than he could take.

  As Dante leaned across her body and bit down softly on her shoulder, he lined up his cock and slid it home, taking her
slow and deep, listening with great satisfaction to her moans and gasps, changing the tempo and pressure when he felt her close to coming. He wanted to make her crazy until she was begging for her release.

  “Right there, just like that,” she said. “Oh, God, don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”

  Dante stopped.

  “What are you—”

  He began to thrust harder, with quicker strokes, until she was panting. “Oh, God. Please. Yes!”

  Dante stopped again. He ran his hands all over her body, down her arms to her hands and back up again, along her sides, all over the length of her satiny back. Then he left a string of kisses from one end of her spine to the other as he cradled her perfect breasts in his palms. “You taste delicious, Taffy. So sweet. Just a little salty.” With that, he reached around underneath her and sought out her small but hard clit.

  She let out a helpless whimper of pleasure.

  “What are you doing to me?” she asked him, dropping her forehead to the mattress.

  He decided to answer with actions instead of words, and within minutes, he got what he was after. Taffy let go with a long, passionate cry, and exploded around his cock with such intensity that he couldn’t help but join her. He was stunned by how his body and soul burst open, yet again. Together, they crashed over the edge.

  * * *

  He was asleep. Not only was he asleep, he was snoring like Granddaddy’s old chain saw. As carefully as possible, Tanyalee picked up Dan’s heavy arm enough for her to slide away, roll to the far side of the bed, and get her feet on the floor. In a single motion she grabbed her shoes, shredded panties, clothes, and carry-on, then slipped into the bathroom. She took the fastest shower she’d ever taken in her life, threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, gathered her hair in a ponytail, and applied a sweep of lip gloss. Then she held her breath and said a silent prayer. Oh, please, Lord, let me get my luggage and get out of here before he wakes up. Amen.

  She made a mental calculation that it would take her about ten steps to grab her large suitcase near the door and escape into the hallway. From there it would take just seconds to reach the elevator. With any luck, one of those shuttle vans they’d taken from the airport would be waiting out front.

  Of course she’d like to stay, chat, and say a proper good-bye. Tanyalee had been raised better than to be rude, under any circumstance. But this was an emergency.

  She turned off the bathroom light before she opened the door. Luckily, the latch didn’t make a sound. She tiptoed toward her suitcase and put a hand on the doorknob.

  And stopped.

  Oh, shoot! She just couldn’t do it.

  As silently as possible, Tanyalee rooted around inside her bag for the charm bracelet Aunt Viv had given her for Christmas last year. She liked it just fine, but it was a cheap imitation of a Pandora and, besides, her much-hated childhood nickname was all over it—Taffy. Why that goofy old woman insisted on calling her that was a mystery.

  She grabbed a pen and the small notepad she kept in her bag. “Something to remember me by,” she wrote, signing it with a big T, which she knew was for Tanyalee, but Dan would be none the wiser. Then she walked on her toes to the bed, placed the bracelet and note on the rumpled sheet, and turned to go.

  Yet again, Tanyalee stopped. She turned back. Dan was gloriously naked, lying on his side with his face angled away from the rising sun, still snoring, everything about him relaxed. She had to stare, because she couldn’t remember ever seeing a man so outrageously masculine and so beautiful at the same time. There was really no other word for it—this dark-haired, olive-skinned man from Brooklyn was as beautiful as a painting.

  She heard herself sigh and began a leisurely visual tour of his big body. His legs were long and strong, muscles defined all the way from his ankles to hip, with his thighs and behind being the highlight. Goodness! And then there were his strong and flat midsection, outrageously buff chest, and long, rock-hard arms. His big hands were slightly cupped in the peace of sleep.

  Tanyalee felt herself smile. She’d worn the Big Cheese out. “Good-bye, Dan,” she mouthed in silence, then blew him a kiss. “Thankyousoverymuch.”

  * * *

  Dante opened one eye and snapped to attention. He scanned the strange hotel room and tried his best to put the pieces together—rerouted flight, Taffy, sex, Washington, sex, it was already mid-morning if he was lucky, sex, sex, sex.

  “Fuck!”

  He sat upright and grabbed his cell phone. Eleven-thirty? His flight left at nine! The room was silent and empty. Taffy had left without saying good-bye? After the night they’d had together? Seriously?

  Dante sighed and scanned the seven unanswered calls and four text messages on his phone. One call was from Daya, concerned because she hadn’t heard that he’d arrived home safely. And the balance of calls and texts were from his boss, Kelly O’Connor. He tossed the phone to the sheet, fully aware that his being AWOL probably pissed her off.

  “Great,” he mumbled, running his hands over his face and through his hair. He glanced around the room again, and that’s when he saw it—something shiny near his right shin. He stared at the bracelet. What the hell? Then he noticed a small piece of paper underneath. Dante snapped everything up and read Taffy’s words—“something to remember me by.”

  He laughed. Damn, that girl was good. He sat quietly like that for many seconds, staring at the bracelet and the note. He should just toss everything in the trash. He’d never see that chick again and the last thing he needed was to go around collecting memorabilia from anonymous encounters with women from airports. It wasn’t like he did this sort of thing every day, but he did live in a one-bedroom with limited storage, after all.

  Dante called O’Connor to tell her he was alive, that his flight was rerouted, and he would be on the next thing smokin’ out of Washington. She wasn’t happy, but at least he’d done due diligence. Next, he called the travel office to book a flight. Then he staggered to the shower, pretty much every single body part complaining at maximum decibel levels when he moved. As the hot water cascaded over him, images of Taffy flashed through his brain like heat lightning, and he decided that was that. He was done with her. He wouldn’t give the chick any more of his focus. It had been fun. It had been incredibly hot. But it was done.

  Dante dressed quickly, packed up, and tossed a twenty on the bed for the unlucky maid. Before he could overthink things, he grabbed the bracelet and note and shoved them in his bag, well aware that he wouldn’t need a piece of cheap jewelry to remember her by.

  Chapter 3

  Kelly O’Connor was positively pleasant. It scared the hell out of him.

  “So how’s your mother and sister, Cabrera?”

  Dante nodded. “Good.”

  “I already got an answer from Division.”

  “I figured you had.”

  “They denied your out-of-state transfer request.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “They want you to stay put for at least another six months and help transition in two undercover agents coming up from Atlanta this fall.”

  “My pleasure.”

  O’Connor tipped her head and studied him. “Look, I know you don’t particularly like the South. I have to admit it wasn’t my first choice, either, but you’re doing an incredible job and obviously our presence here is needed.”

  Dante sighed, letting his gaze wander around the antique exposed brick of his boss’s office. He had to admit that Asheville was a charming little city nestled in the Appalachian Mountains—if a person happened to like charming little cities nestled in mountains. Which he did not. He preferred flat stretches of concrete and subway stations and hot dog carts and foul-smelling exhaust fumes and people who didn’t need five minutes just to say hello.

  “Give it some time. It might grow on you.”

  “Like a fungus.”

  With that, O’Connor did something he’d never, ever, heard his boss do. She giggled. Giggled like a girl. This new bubbly-per
sonality thing was disturbing, because he was far more comfortable with the old O’Connor, the one who cussed like a longshoreman and could hold her liquor like one, too. What had happened in the two weeks he’d taken off to interview at Division, visit his mother in Brooklyn, and see his sister in Chicago? If he didn’t know better he’d think O’Connor had been getting some.

  “You been gettin’ some?”

  Her face went scarlet and her eyes became huge. “None of your business, Cabrera.”

  Dante shrugged. “Please accept my apology.” O’Connor was a complicated female, the kind who was apt to change the rules on a whim. She’d been open about her personal life with Dante in the past. She’d told him all about the mess she’d gotten herself into as a rookie and how she had a strict policy about dating other agents—it was never going to happen again. Dante figured the disclosure had been a warning for him, though she needn’t have bothered. O’Connor was attractive enough, with those pale eyes and dark hair, but she was nothing but sharp edges and hard surfaces. It was the job, no doubt. She’d been a DEA special agent for a dozen years and company women often toned down their femininity to avoid appearing “weak.”

  O’Connor was so not his type.

  Pink Taffy was his type.

  He jolted in alarm. Oh, no. No, no, no. He wasn’t going there. He was done thinking about sweet and salty Taffy. Finished. It pissed him off that he hadn’t been able to shake her in the last couple days. It made him doubt himself, in fact, and he had no room in his life for doubt. So he forced his mind back to the issue at hand, which was that O’Connor was getting it from a local. But who?

  The sheriff they’d worked with on the Spivey meth case was a distinct possibility, but Dante knew O’Connor had struck out with him in the past. Besides, Turner Halliday was crazy for the gorgeous blonde who’d nearly gotten herself killed during that bust. Dante had witnessed firsthand how Halliday was blinded by love for that woman—Candy Carmichael was her name, and she was about as different from O’Connor as a woman could get. So the sheriff was out.

  Another possibility would have been the editor of the local newspaper, J.J. DeCourcy, but he’d recently married his publisher, the very pretty Cheri Newberry. So the editor was out, too.