Pulling into the parking lot, she parked the car and removed the key. Tucking the key ring into his hand, she closed her warm fingers over his fist.
“Ange pollison? What exactly does that mean?”
“Naughty angel.”
“Well, this naughty angel thanks you for making one of her fantasies come true.” She smiled. “She owes you one.”
Over the past few days he’d been gathering a number of adjectives to describe his mystery lady, but they all fell in line behind his newest revelation. Spirited. Beth Langdon just might be the one to help him out of his bind with Duncan. He watched as she unhooked her seat belt, then turned to face him. Planting a hand on the edge of his seat, she leaned closer. Her lips shimmered in the parking-lot light.
“Didn’t scare you, did I?”
As much as he was tempted to lean over and kiss that smug little smile from her face, he wasn’t going to. Not until the plan forming in his mind was clear to him. Shaking his head, he touched one of her diamond ear clips, then traced the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know a damned thing about you. Why you followed me, where you’re from, anything about your background—”
“Is background important to you?”
He held her gaze steady with his, but didn’t say anything for several seconds. “About that game you were playing with me last night at the casino—”
“The game I won?” she asked, cutting in again.
He shook his head once. “I’m not talking about roulette.”
“You’re not?”
“No, mon ange polisson,” he said, moving his fingertip over her lips. “When you play roulette, you play against the house. I want to know about the game you were playing with me.” Curving his hands around her rib cage, he urged her closer. “The one you’re still playing.”
“Why?” she asked, running her fingers through his curly hair, then spilling it over his forehead. “Because you don’t want to play with me?”
“I do. I just want to know the rules.”
Her hand suddenly stilled. “There aren’t any. But if you insist, we’ll make them up as we go along.”
“And then…?” He prompted her with a nod.
She didn’t respond.
Beneath his curved hands her heart began beating faster. He was definitely getting under her skin. “Then, Beth,” he said, “we’ll break them. Every one of them.” She opened her mouth, but before she could protest he added, “Starting now.” Pulling her close, he kissed her until she groaned. He was certain the sound had its origins in heaven. Shifting in his arms, she plowed her fingers into his hair and began to kiss him back.
National security be damned; she wasn’t sharing this discovery with anyone. Reese Marchand was a brilliant kisser.
Catching her by surprise with a series of masterful tongue strokes, Reese had taken her from a gasp to a groan in seconds. Tingling sensations streamed straight from his mouth to every erogenous zone on her body. Without warning he gentled his advance to nibbling her lips, then just as quickly went back to lavishing his expert attention in the moist warmth beyond them. Shivering against the delicious intrusion, she fleetingly wondered how any woman could not respond to such thoroughness.
Of course, self-control was possible, but with the soft pressure of his hands around her rib cage, highly questionable. His light hold had somehow turned into a teasing challenge to come closer. But that wasn’t going to happen. For the sake of her goal, she had to find a way out of this deepening maze of desire…just as soon as Reese stopped that nibbling he’d started again. Lord, help her. He was turning her into little more than a traitorous mass of dewy flesh.
His thorough and relentless technique had her toes and fingers curling, and she realized the only way she could straighten them was to return the pleasure. Generously. That still didn’t account for her ending up on the other side of the console and in his lap when they finally broke for air.
His deadpan look toward the empty driver’s seat and then to her in his lap ended in a slow, shared smile. Her hands drifted out of his hair and down to his chest. Beneath the fine pleats of his shirtfront she felt the pleasant definition of muscle, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the heat she’d help to generate. Without a doubt, he was the most handsome, most masculine, most desirable man she’d ever laid eyes or hands on.
As their connected gazes intensified, she knew she couldn’t help herself; she had to touch his lips again. As she traced her own moisture on them, he captured her finger in a quick, soft bite. The moment lingered between them, rich and heavy with promise. Before releasing her finger, he flicked his tongue over the tip of it, and it seemed over other parts of her, as well. If he only knew what he was doing to her…she pressed her thighs together.
“I believe we broke two rules that time, Miss Langdon.”
“I believe we did, Mr. Marchand,” she said, as her body absorbed the vibration of his rumbling whisper. Was she supposed to fit so snugly, so comfortably against his solid flesh? Was the seduction of Reese Marchand supposed to feel this good?
Reaching up, he looped a lock of her hair around his finger, then stroked it across his cheek. “Shall we try for three?”
Was it necessary to indulge him this one more kiss? Was it wise to indulge herself? More questions were tumbling in, but she put them all out of her mind. As she brought her face close to his, the words rolled off her tongue. “I was just going to suggest that.”
Her brushing kisses melted into one long and sumptuous move that left her mind spinning. Lifting her lips from his, she began to pull back. She was becoming entirely too pleased with herself and that had to stop. Now. Because there was such a thing as too much—
“Four?” he whispered.
“Four,” she whispered, dipping her head again to swirl her tongue over his lips and into his mouth. Feeling the ridge of arousal pressing against her bottom, she twisted in his embrace and boldly deepened the kiss. As he began to squirm beneath her, any doubts about the wiseness of her act scattered in a hot haze of wanting and needing.
Without warning, a masculine voice sounded beside the car.
“If you two would quit making a spectacle of yourselves…”
Their eyes slowly opened to each other’s. In a mirrored move, their foreheads touched before they turned their gazes toward the speaker. Beth recognized the tall, good-looking man as Reese’s friend from the casino.
“This is Duncan Vanos, Beth,” Reese said. “A good friend with bad timing.”
“Hello, Duncan.” She tried for an inconspicuous tug at her hem, but only succeeded in bringing both men’s attention to her bare thigh. Playing the femme fatale in private was one thing, but cavorting like a human pretzel in a public parking lot was insane. Her spirits sank as she looked for an easy and modest way to return to the driver’s seat. Putting toothpaste back into a tube would be easier. She was stuck in Reese’s lap for the duration.
“No need to get up,” Duncan said, as a goodhumored smile spread across