Blood in the Water(86)

The agent left, but Jane doubted they’d seen the last of him.





Chapter Twenty-Two



“You’re an idiot.”

For a second, Byron thought he was dreaming. A seething Jane stood in front of his desk, hands on her hips. Her cheeks were red, her eyes sparkled, and her breasts heaved in the most distracting way.

The pretty picture made his cock twitch in response. Walking away from her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Now here she was, pursuing him for once.

It was the first time Jane had come to him of her own free will, and it must mean something. She wasn’t here for work or because of some flimsy excuse he’d used to be near her. Jane was here because she wanted to see him.

What was the old quote? If you let something go and it comes back to you, it’s yours. He wondered if the same could be said for people.

A winded Rebel jogged into the room. “Sorry, boss. I was outside bullshittin’ with the guards when she blew right past me.”

“It’s okay.” It really wasn’t, but this was neither the time nor the place. “Get out. I’ll handle this.”

“Sure.” With a doubtful look at Jane, Rebel retreated, pulling the door closed behind him.

If he were a better man, Byron would push her out the door, tell her to save herself, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. Damn, she was a sweet sight for sore eyes. Jane wore a pinstriped suit—as always, put together and polished.

Byron wondered what she wore beneath it.

“Why haven’t you contacted me?”

“You know why.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enough of this. No one pushes me into doing something I don’t want to.”

“Maybe I’ve skewed your judgment.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know my own mind.” Before he could find something coherent to say in response, Jane rounded the desk and slapped his face.

Byron was slack-jawed.

It was a bold move right out of his fantasies, and damn if it didn’t turn him on.

He grasped her wrist, holding it, before she could slap him upside the head again. “I’m tryin’ to do the right thing by you.”

“Who asked you to?”

They scowled at one another, and the tension strained between them. Byron tried like hell to ignore the blaze of desire burning in his belly.

Then Jane licked her lips.

Oh, fuck it all.

Byron wrapped his arms around her waist, and Jane draped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down, but their lips didn’t meet. Instead, he spun her around and pressed her against the steel vault door behind his desk.

He placed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“Are you okay—with this, I mean? Valentine violated you.” As he spoke, Byron ran his hands up and down her arms—he still couldn’t quite believe she was here, and he had to touch her.

Her grin was wry. “Putting a bullet in your rapist is very therapeutic.”

It was the last thing he’d expected her to say, but she always had a way of surprising him.

And then she kissed him.

With a growl, he tasted her again, savoring the slide of her tongue against him, the way she gasped into his open mouth.

He flicked the buttons open on her blouse and unsnapped her bra. He smiled at the innocent white cotton fabric. There was something alluring about the air of purity she still projected—even though she’d killed a man.

Byron shoved the thought away. Right now, he couldn’t think. He just wanted to feel.

Jane had large, full breasts which filled his palms. The nipples were pale pink and already peaked for him. He bent down to lavish attention on them, kissing and sucking. He took them both in hand, licking one first and then the other. Then Byron smooched his way down her stomach.

She gasped, her thighs rocking against him, already wanting more.

Byron flipped open the buttons on her trousers and peeled them down, leaving her in a pair of white panties. The crotch was already soaked with moisture. She squealed when he cupped her pussy; the dark curls were scratchy, and the skin beneath them was whisper-soft and sweet.

He got down on his knees and gave her the wickedest of grins before turning her around and shoving the cotton down her thighs, revealing her delicious ass.

He kneaded the smooth flesh and gave it a little smack.

Jane gasped and splayed her hands against the vault.

Byron wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, kissing the small of her back, nipping it, licking it.

“I was right about your ass.” And then he buried his face in her plush bottom.

Jane squealed.

Byron wished he could hold off, take her upstairs to his room and lay her down on his big bed, make love to her properly, but he couldn’t hold off any longer—they’d both been waiting too long.