He tossed aside the helmet. “What do you want? A medal?” Cass surged back toward her.
She sucked in her lower lip. A sexy lip. Dammit.
“You flash warm and cold, don’t you?” Agnes suddenly challenged. “Promising to fuck me one moment and then offering me a medal the next. I think—” Her words abruptly ended.
He’d just leaned in close to her as Agnes carefully perched on the motorcycle. Cass knew his expression had to be helluva hard. His hands went to either side of her body, pushing down onto the seat, and maybe his thumbs brushed against the outside of her thighs. That stupid, short skirt might be the death of him. “What is it that you think? Don’t leave me in suspense.”
Her hand rose and pressed to his chest. “I think…” She tilted her head back a bit. “I think you want to kiss me right now.” Surprise tinged her words.
She was right. He did want to kiss her. But… “I want to know what the hell kind of con you think you’re running.”
“I want to kiss you, too. That’s not a con. It’s the truth.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Fine, you want some deep, dark confession from me? I did come after you tonight because I was hoping to team up.”
This could not be happening. The woman was just spinning and spinning him with her words and confusing the hell out of him.
“I kinda threw out the line about fucking you because I knew other people were listening at the bar, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate me just loudly saying something like, ‘Hi, Cass. Do you remember me? I’m FBI Agent Agnes Quinn. We met when you were working a secret deal with the Feds not too long ago.’”
He could feel another growl building in his throat. Cass choked it down.
“You do remember our first, exciting meeting, don’t you?”
It had not been exciting. But, yes, he remembered it. She was pretty hard to forget.
“I introduced myself back then, tried to shake your hand but you…” She tut-tut-tutted. “You left me hanging. Hardly the appropriate thing to do with a lady.”
He made a mental note to never leave this woman hanging. “How did you know I was in that bar tonight?”
“Because The Bottomless Pit is a known hangout for the Strikers?” Her hand kept pressing to his chest.
“If I hadn’t been there, you would have walked into a world of trouble.”
“This may shock you to the heels of those bad-ass, black boots that you are wearing, but I know how to handle trouble.”
“Do you?” A dare.
“Try me and find out.”
He should not but…
“Kiss me,” she breathed. “You know that you want to do it.”
He did want to do it. He should not. He should send her on her merry way, but… “I am not partnering with you. I’m done working with the Feds.”
“Really?”
“I kiss you, and it will mean nothing.”
“Wow. Rip my heart out, why don’t you? You haven’t even put your lips against mine. Could be that when you do that, it will mean everything.” A pause. “Why don’t we find out?” Her hand suddenly fisted around his shirt as she yanked him closer.
And his mouth locked onto hers. Her mouth locked onto his.
It should have been just a kiss. He’d had plenty of good kisses in his life. Plenty of hot, passionate kisses. He knew kissing was great foreplay. Kissing was great for pleasure. Kissing was great for?—
A fucking eruption of need and wild lust. A torrent that drove through his whole body.
Because her taste was insane. Sweet and heady and it hit him harder than four shots of tequila. Yeah, four. It blew through his entire body, electrifying his bloodstream and sending lust surging in every pore of his body. His dick went rock hard. His hands grabbed for her waist and curled possessively around her, and he yanked her up and off that motorcycle. Off the motorcycle and into his arms even as her tongue met his.
She moaned into his mouth. Kissed him even harder, more passionately. Agnes wrapped her legs around his hips. Her body rocked against his, and he had a flash of how easy it would be to rip away her panties. To yank open his jeans and drive his dick into her right then and there. He could take her. Take and take and take and if kissing her was this phenomenal, then fucking her had to be absolutely mind-blowing.
