Oh, he was well past freaked out and onto wondering which circle of hell he would land in for screwing a captive before she even realized she’d been caught. Probably just one level higher than fucking her after she knew she’d been caught.
“It’s okay,” he managed.
He pulled off the spent condom and headed for the adjacent kitchen to find a paper towel. Lydia kept up her nervous babble.
“I understand if you want to go,” she said, looking around the floor and finally heading over to snatch up the rest of her swimsuit. “You certainly performed above and beyond the call of duty.”
He swallowed. Wasn’t that the ironic truth?
When he returned from tossing the condom, he found her tying the rest of her bikini on and adjusting her breasts until they sat in the cups to her apparent satisfaction.
She sighed loudly. “But I wish you’d stay a little while. God, I can’t believe I cried after the best fuck I’ve had in ages.” She shook her head. “I’m so embarrassed. Please let me make it up to you with a drink. My way of saying sorry I made a complete ass of myself.”
That made two of them. One drink wouldn’t be nearly enough. At this point, he was ready to guzzle the whole damn bottle.
“Don’t worry it about it,” he managed.
“Does that mean you’ll stay?” she asked.
He nodded numbly. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not without her.
Her smile set something loose in his chest. “Good. Help yourself to that drink if you want. I have to run to the bathroom.”
Nate considered coming out with the truth right then, but he stopped himself. She might as well pee now. They had a long drive ahead of them.
In his career, it was pretty much a given that the people he encountered weren’t exactly grateful to him for hauling them back to jail, but a whole new level of fuck-you dynamics was about to play out. He swallowed while he watched her flounce toward the hallway. She stopped there and turned. “By the way, I’d love to see the actual job you came here to do, if you want to show me when I get back.”
He pasted on a smile and took a moment to study her face as it looked right then. She wore the glow of a woman who had just been fucked hard and happily. It was an expression he wouldn’t see from her again. And considering he’d broken Rule One in a whole new and perverted sense, he wouldn’t be seeing it from anyone else. Not for a while. He deserved punishment.
She pointed to his torn shirt and skewed tie. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but while you’re twelve kinds of fucking hot as hell, a guy in a business suit wouldn’t have been my first choice for a fantasy striptease. Not anymore. So if you have a different routine in your bag of tricks, bring it on.” She snorted and disappeared through a door at the edge of the hallway.
Nate dragged a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. The ironic turn in conversation would have been damn funny if he hadn’t just stuffed his tool in the wrong box. Even while he was busy berating himself, however, part of his brain was busy registering the fact that she’d called him “twelve kinds of fucking hot as hell”.
“Right back at you,” he muttered.
Once the door closed behind her, the bounty hunter set to work. He slipped over to the bathroom door to listen and make sure the bathroom story wasn’t some ruse so she could grab a gun or escape a third-story bathroom window. He heard the toilet lid lift and the sound of peeing.
The single bedroom was visible from here, as was the double bed. The bedding was short enough to see clearly underneath, and he bent down to make sure no one was hiding there. Probably something he should have done before fucking the hell out of a woman with his back turned to the hallway, but should-have-dones were piling up in a long list.
He slipped inside a room that was sparsely furnished in a psychedelic orange-and-green color scheme.
“Groovy,” he whispered.
There was a small closet with a closed door, which didn’t make him happy. How many times had he dragged jumpers or their housemates out of a closet?
Grabbing a letter opener from the top of a bright-green dresser, he moved in utter silence across the room and then yanked open the closet door. It was almost empty and devoid of any hidden suspects.
He heard the toilet flush just as he was tiptoeing back up the hall. He shucked his jacket, shirt and tie on the way and traded them for a black t-shirt he pulled from the duffel bag. He took out his badge, which was hanging from a beaded chain, and put it around his neck. Then he managed to extract the handcuffs that should have come out instead of his cock. He was twirling them around his finger when she finally emerged from the bathroom.