STORY EXCERPT

“Were you hurt?” She started to slow for a stale yellow then gauged the distance too close to stop. She punched the gas, gliding the car beneath the traffic light just as it turned red. She glanced at him. The fleeting red glow illuminated the muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Not physically,” he answered dryly, not looking at her. “My ego took a hell of a blow, though.”

Mallory knew what it cost him to admit that. Tough as nails, stuffy, and often a pompous ass, Jackson Graham didn’t let much penetrate his steely shell, especially on the job. He was a robot, or at least that’s what he preferred people to believe. He kept his emotions hidden, on and off assignment.

Except for that one time.

Yeah, and that one time had scared her to the tips of her toes.

“I apologize for pulling you away from Cinderella’s.”

He made the conversational shift before she could prod for more answers. She let it go, finding a string of patience within herself to latch onto until they reached HQ.

“It’s no big deal. I was considering leaving when you called anyway.” That was a half-truth, but she went with it. She’d really been debating on another drink, a dance with Jim, possibly more.

“Considering?” Jackson finally looked at her, his expression blank, guarded. “Was there something that might have kept you there if I hadn’t called?”

Should she tell him? Would it help her mission or hinder it? Making Jackson jealous had never worked for her before. That was if she’d ever managed to make him jealous in the past. If she had, he damn sure never let it show.

“I thought about staying for another drink, maybe a dance or two.” As she said it, she felt herself slip into you-want-to-fuck-me mode. She’d been playing the game with Jackson for years, laying it on thick, not attempting to hide an ounce of her attraction to him. That, too, hadn’t worked yet, but hope sprung eternal. “What’s the matter, handsome? Does the thought of me on a dance floor make that conservative brain of yours think provocative thoughts?”

“I’ve seen you on a dance floor. Your idea of dancing makes Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey’s interpretation fit for a Disney special.”

Mallory threw her head back and laughed. “You should try it sometime. A couple of hot, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding to the beat of the music, a little alcohol to numb the senses…” She trailed off as her words created an image in her head that made her panties wet. She saw Jackson on a dance floor, his tie gone and shirt half unbuttoned to reveal a rock-solid chest speckled with dark springy hair. She saw his stormy gaze lock with hers as he crooked a finger, beckoning her closer. She could almost feel one corded, muscular arm as it slid around her waist and yanked her close. Then he started to move, grinding his thickening cock against her belly and sending slivers of erotic heat straight to her pussy.

“I should try it with you, I suppose.”

His words ripped her from the quickly accelerating porn flick taking form in her mind. She shifted in her seat and felt more juices escape her slick folds as she pulled the car into the parking lot of FBI HQ. She looked at him as she put the car in park and shut off the engine.

“It would be a place to start.” She slid her gaze from his face to his chest, her hands burning to touch. She wanted to push off his jacket, rip open his shirt and flatten her palms on his tanned flesh. She wanted to feel his dense muscles flex under her hands. She dared to lean closer to him, to reach for his tie, and let the silk glide through her fingers. “You’re still wearing this tie far too tight, Agent Graham.”

His hand closed around her wrist and she suddenly felt dizzy, intoxicated. It was as if his fingers came equipped with tiny needles that penetrated her flesh and injected her with a heavy dose of erotic desire. His stormy gaze locked with hers, and the intensity in his stare took her breath away. Challenge, promise, and hope twisted in an expression that was starkly sexual and dangerous as hell.

“Take it off, Mallory. You know what you’ll get.”

Sanity teetered as need urged her to do things her mind screamed she shouldn’t. Yeah, she knew what she would get, exactly what she’d wanted for more years than she could count. Knowledge of what it would cost her in return had her slowly dropping her hand and easing back into her own seat.

A flash of disappointment moved through his handsome face. “You still aren’t ready to play.”

The passenger door closed with a finality that sent a shudder down her spine. Anger and a fear she could no longer ignore kept her planted in her seat as she watched him walk into the building, saw him stop just inside the door to wait for her. He’d taken over the game, changed the rules.

“Not by a long shot,” she muttered as she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She was Mallory Stone, and she didn’t stand placidly by while anyone attempted to take control of anything she possessed. Jackson wanted to play. Well, then, she’d just have to stage a game he’d never forget.

ADULT EXCERPT

“Jackson, I—”

“Am going to give me dessert now.” He cut off her argument as he had done when she walked in the door, dipped his head, and brushed his lips to the tip of her nose. Confessing he loved her had apparently been a good thing. Her being this close to speechlessness would make it easier to continue his game.

“At Chef Jackson’s dessert is served by the guests to the cook.” He let his hand fall from her face, found the buttons of her shirt, and freed them slowly, one by one. She averted her gaze, bowing her head. He hooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. “Look at me. Last night was yours. Tonight is mine. My game. My rules.”

He continued to unbutton the shirt until it fell open, knowing how difficult it had to be for her to look at him right now. She couldn’t hide from what he had said to her, couldn’t hide from the turmoil it made her feel, not with him being this close to her, with him touching her. It was exactly what he wanted.

“Don’t think, Mal.” He pushed the shirt from her shoulders and let it fall in a pool of material at her feet. “Listen, react, feel.”

He stepped back a fraction, putting just enough room between them so he could see her. The flickering candlelight danced over her flesh, providing him just enough light to see every delectable inch of her body. She hadn’t put on panties. His cock pulsed at the realization. They had sat through dinner making idle conversation, and the whole time she had been across from him wearing absolutely nothing but his shirt.

“I can’t do this, Jackson.”

Her whispered words, the conflict and pain in them, sliced at his heart. He pulled his gaze back up, praying he wouldn’t find tears in her eyes. The single tear last night had been bad enough. Watching her cry now would destroy him.

He didn’t see any tears, though. Thank God. But he had a feeling they weren’t too far away. Tough-as-nails Mallory could only be strong for so long before she would break, and what he was doing to her tonight had to be hitting her at the weakest possible level.

“Yes, you can,” he said soothingly. “It’s sex. It’s you. It’s me. It’s what we’ve been dancing around for years, what we took the first steps in exploring last night.”

“It’s not just sex anymore.” Her voice broke, and she took a ragged breath, reining herself in.

No, it wasn’t, and the fact that she realized that, that she put voice to it, told him he was one step closer to his ultimate goal.

“Let yourself go, Mal. Touch yourself for me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about watching you pleasure yourself.”

She angled her head and drew her eyebrows together. “Really?”

His lips twitched. “Really.”

She took another ragged breath, let it out slowly, and lifted her hands. She started at her chest, flattening her hands above her breasts, and dragging them down. She cupped her ample breasts in her palms, ran her thumbs over her hardened nipples, and—Oh holy Jesus—the sight sent whips of lust slashing at his tortured cock and balls.

“Is that what you’ve fantasized about?” She caught her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, rolled the beaded points then pinched, her head falling back as she moaned from the pleasure she gave herself.

“Christ, yes.” It was better because this was reality.

“How about this?” One hand moved from her breast to glide down her abdomen, her stomach, then disappeared between her legs.

Entranced, Jackson’s gaze, along with every ounce of lust inside him, followed her hand. She parted her legs slowly and turned her hips slightly toward the cabinets on her right. Balancing her weight on her left foot, she raised her right to rest on the handle of the nearby cabinet, opening her pussy to his view and her questing fingers.

“Damn, that’s amazing.” He tore his gaze away long enough to glance up. Her other hand had stayed on her breast where she continued to massage and toy with her nipple. Her gaze was fixated on him. Shadows of her conflicting emotions remained in her heavy-lidded eyes, but they sparked with the vixen challenge he had seen in them all too often.

How far would he take this? How far did he want her to go? He saw those questions in her gaze even as her lips formed an O of pleasure that had his attention plummeting to her hand once more. She used her index and ring finger to part her pussy lips, massaging her clit with her middle finger until the bud became engorged and utterly torturous to his throbbing cock.

Jackson nearly came right then and there, without so much as a touch to his own body from her, his dick still safely enclosed in his jeans. Watching her drove him that close to the edge. He found himself fighting to think about details at the bureau, about cooking, about anything that would divert his mind and body from blowing his wad in his jeans.

“Mmm, so that’s what you’ve really fantasized about.” A teasing lilt added a wicked tone to her voice, telling him she was truly enjoying herself now. Getting off on driving him to the brink of insanity was more like it.

“Yes.” The word came out rough, breathless, and just short of sounding like a growl. He wanted to close the distance between them, replace her hands with his own, but first he wanted to taste her. “Stop.”

Her hands stilled and he glanced up again to find a wicked smile tilting her succulent lips. “What’s the matter, handsome, too much?”

Jackson shook his head as he reached for her right hand. “It’s not enough.”