Читать книгу Sweet Spot - Kimberly Kaye Terry - Страница 12

The cool breeze wafting over her body from the open balcony doors and light filtering into the room wasn’t what woke Gaby up. The unfamiliar weight of what could only be a man’s—a very large man’s—arm was draped loosely across her waist.

That, as well as the big hand attached to the arm clamped between her thighs, cupping her mound, the other lightly resting on her exposed breasts, and a warm, hard chest blanketing her back, was what woke her.

Slowly she opened swollen, gritty eyes, glanced down at her nakedness, and stifled a groan.

She’d hoped—prayed—that last night had all been a dream. A wild, out-of-this-world, don’t-wake-me-’til-I-come kind of dream…but a dream nonetheless.

She eased a hand down and touched her thigh, feeling the stickiness of her own cum.

“Damn,” she whispered when she realized it was, had been, all too real. When he mumbled, she clamped her lips shut, not wanting to wake the slumbering man.

Sweet.

The memory of what he’d done to her last night caused a rash of heated memories to flood her mind.

Slowly, carefully, Gaby removed his hand from where it nestled quite comfortably between her thighs and plucked the other from her breast, keeping a wary glance on him to make sure he didn’t awake.

Despite their nocturnal excess, his cock was still slightly thickened as it nestled in the crease of her ass.

“Who are you, super damn man?” she whispered and promptly clamped her lips shut when his shaft twitched against her.

She then eased away from him, snaking her body from beneath his arm, and scooted over to the edge of the large, canopied bed. Frantic eyes darted in his direction when he stirred, mumbling; she feared she’d awaken him before she could get the hell out of Dodge.

Her breath caught and held until he wrapped one of his big arms around a pillow, and laid facedown, on the bed, uttering a grunt. With a sigh, Gaby rose from the bed.

She looked back over the man in question, and despite last night’s excess, despite the fact that she knew good and well it was only for one night, one part of her played “what if.”

What if she stayed lying next to him? What if he woke up and wanted a part two…or, considering the number of times they’d had sex, part five or six?

What if…

She shook her head at the thought.

No, she’d be best off escaping while she could. The ramifications of what she’d fully participated in weren’t something she was ready to deal with. No point in thinking of an encore.

She winced when her legs hit the floor. Her thighs, her backside, dear God, even her breasts—all had the same delicious ache that gave testimony that he’d earned his nickname in spades.

Sweet.

Although what he’d done to her, had her doing to him, had been anything but sweet. It had been the kind of raw, nasty sex she’d never experienced in her life.

And it had fulfilled every one of her fantasies, to the nth power. Exceedingly so.

She winced again when she caught sight of the many used condoms lying spent on the floor.

On tiptoes she walked around the room gathering her clothes, casting furtive glances in his direction every few seconds, making sure he wasn’t awake.

Donning her clothes quickly, haphazardly, she dressed. After slipping her heels back on to her feet, she scooped up her purse and slung it over her shoulder as she walked toward the door.

“Damn!” she hissed, as she eased back the cage of the outer elevator.

She glanced over her shoulder to see if the creaking noise had awakened Sweet and breathed a sigh of relief when he slept on, like a baby. A big, sexy, contented baby.

He flipped his large body farther down on the bed and threw the pillow he’d been clutching over his head.

Gaby closed her eyes briefly, sent a thankful prayer to God, and blew out a breath of air before hurrying into the elevator.

She just wanted to get away before he could wake up. If she didn’t…hell, she didn’t know what would happen.

Scurrying into the elevator, she closed the outer door and stabbed the down arrow button repeatedly, trying to hasten the lazy elevator into efficiency. She leaned back against the wall of the elevator with a heartfelt groan of relief when it lumbered to wakefulness and she began to descend.

When Demetri was sure Gabrielle was gone, he opened his eyes and sat up in the bed, pushing the tangled silk sheets away from his body and throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

Glancing over at the clock, he noted the time. Just barely dawn.

As soon as she’d woken, he’d been aware of it, snapping out of sleep as soon as her even breaths of sleep changed.

Both his former military special ops training, and his…unique…FBI training had been such that his sleep had become light. However, he’d been surprised that after their marathon sex session, he’d actually fallen into a deep enough sleep that she’d woken before him.

He’d also been surprised when he’d wakened to find their limbs twined, with one of his hands cupping her mound and the other palming one of her breasts.

He stared down at himself in disgust. His dick was still partially erect.

He ran a hand over it, from stem to root, his thumb wiping away a gem of his pre-cum with absentminded attention.

He needed to revise his plan.

After last night, he realized that mere sex wasn’t going to cut it to get information from her.

He hadn’t known anything about her, her bio was sketchy, and he’d only gone on instinct on how to approach the mission. His gut was telling him she was different. That she wasn’t just some low-down scam artist. That she was unlike the crooks he used to deal with on a regular basis, that she and her partner—Adam Quick—weren’t cut from the same cloth.

Something wasn’t right with the picture.

He bounded from the bed, and walked, naked, through the loft until he reached the room he’d designated as his office.

He sat down in the large leather chair, touched the keypad on his computer, and watched it flare to life. He clicked on an icon on his control panel and keyed in a series of numbers and symbols until he gained access to what he needed.

He shook his head. Hacking into government systems that were supposed to be hackproof was too damn easy.

His natural cynicism returned as he typed in her name and seconds later his eyes scanned the information on his screen looking for something, anything that might have been missed, something that would clue him in to the woman she really was.

She may not be the same as Adam, her motivation may be different…but she was nobody’s innocent.

He’d find out what her motivation was, and after that he’d get the information he needed.

He rose and grabbed a pair of shorts and stepped into them before settling down at his desk. He touched the screen and quickly typed in his password and logged on.

His former superior had briefed him on what the department knew about Gabrielle and her partner. What he was searching for now was information on her family members, something about which the intel he’d been given had been sketchy at best. What he did know was that she’d been taken from her mother, due to her mother being an addict and unfit to care for Gabrielle. As a young girl, she’d gone into the system.

And once in the system, a person’s information was always there. He just had to pick apart what was available to ferret out anything useful.

He’d already learned more about Gabrielle’s personal life than what his superior had briefed him on. The department didn’t know about her mother, or Nick hadn’t let on what he knew, afraid Demetri would allow it to interfere with his investigation of the woman, afraid he’d feel sympathy for her.

Demetri shook his head as his fingers flew over the keyboard, going in and out of various search engines, private ones as well as government- and military-operated, searching for more information on Gabrielle Marlowe.

“Damn, that doesn’t make any sense. Nick knows I’m a professional. Wouldn’t allow my own feelings to interfere with my investigation,” he murmured. “Something’s missing. Something with her mother? Shit…” he continued his search, talking out loud as he typed in her mother’s name.

After searching for over an hour, he came up with several references to Gabrielle Marlowe, but it was for the woman he was investigating, and not her mother. It seemed Gabrielle was quite the community activist, volunteering for various organizations helping the homeless and advocating for Medicare and Medicaid reform.

None of her extracurricular activities had been added to the bio he’d been given. Again, he wondered why.

None of it made any damn sense, Demetri thought in frustration. It didn’t add up. Nothing he’d learned from her so far. She volunteered and advocated for disenfranchised folks.

And ripped off the government at the same time.

And after one night with her, his knew she wasn’t a heartless criminal out to make a quick buck, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

“Shit,” Demetri rubbed the back of his stiff neck, rotating it to massage out the kinks. With a tired sigh, he stood and pushed back from his chair.

He knew where she worked, where she lived. But he couldn’t go to her.

All he could do now was chill, sit back, and wait for her to come back to him. And hope that she wouldn’t wait long.

Waiting wasn’t a concept Demetri mastered very well when on the hunt, he thought, a wicked smile stretching his mouth wide in anticipation.