Page 82 of One Last Chance


Font Size:

Edge just smiled. Skye went with him as he opened the safe in the bedroom and took out the disposable phone and a handheld bug finder. She knew the device was standard equipment in Edge’s gear bag. He held it up, and she nodded.

As he moved through the rooms, she watched the surface of the black plastic device to see if any of the lights lit up, but no warning colors flashed.

“Nothing,” Edge said. “But I didn’t really expect there would be. Petrov’s all about muscle and intimidation. He’s used to winning by force. I don’t think he’s a techie kind of guy.”

He set the device on the dresser, closed the bedroom door behind him, and made sure it was locked.

Skye’s anticipation returned. She glanced at the bed. “I wouldn’t want them to hear us. Are you sure your device is working?”

Edge’s gaze heated. “Sure enough.” Reaching out, he eased her into his arms. “Jesus, I’ve been hard for you all night.” Tipping up her chin, he settled his lips over hers and sank in, claiming her in a hot, wet kiss that melted her bones.

“Shouldn’t . . . shouldn’t we call Cross?”

“Later.” Damp kisses fell onto the side of her neck and over her shoulders. “That dress should be illegal.” Sliding off the narrow straps, he peeled the top away to expose her breasts. “I can’t stop wanting you.” He cupped the weight in one of his big hands, and Skye moaned.

Edge reached up and took down her hair. Skye shook her head, sending dark strands tumbling around her shoulders.

“Damn, I’m crazy about you.” Edge lowered his head to kiss her again, then paused. “I didn’t mean to say that, but I guess it’s no secret.” He kissed her before she had time to process the words.

Until that moment, she’d had no idea what Edge felt for her. Now she knew he cared about her—maybe more than cared—but the sad truth was, it didn’t matter. They had what they had for as long as it lasted. That was all.

Still, her heart had squeezed at his words.

The kiss deepened as Edge stripped her out of the dress, stopping at the sight of the little .380 semiauto strapped to the inside of her thigh.

“What is there about a woman wearing a gun?” he mused, his eyes hot as they roamed over her.

Skye leaned down and ripped off the Velcro tabs holding the holster in place, set the little pistol on the nightstand.

Edge leaned down and kissed her. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her across the room and set her down on the side of the bed.

A long, slow kiss, and he knelt in front of her, eased her back on the mattress. She was naked, Edge fully dressed. His broad shoulders wedged her legs apart, the fabric of his suit coat rubbing against her thighs. Delicious ripples of pleasure slid into her core.

“Your leg,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

She swallowed, barely able to force out the word. “No . . .”

His hands moved down her body, stroking, soothing. Damp kisses roamed over her skin, moving lower, making her burn. When he reached his destination, everything inside her went white-hot with need.

Her mind went blank. They were in the middle of a dangerous operation that could get them both killed, and all she could think of was Edge and her need to feel him inside her.

“Please . . .” she whispered, moving restlessly on the mattress.

“Soon, baby.” Edge was relentless, using his hands and his mouth to drive her to the peak. In minutes, she was on the precipice, then tumbling over, crying his name as she reached release.

His zipper buzzed, then he was sliding in, driving deep. “God, I need you. I can’t get enough of you.”

Her eyes filled. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this overpowering hunger for a man she could never have. But the agonizing truth was, she loved him. And because she loved him, she wanted every moment she could get with him.

Skye gave herself up to the powerful emotions she didn’t want to feel, let Edge drive her up all over again, then joined him in a spectacular release.

* * *

Another hour passed before Edge made the call to Cross. Skye was lying in bed, her eyes heavy-lidded and drowsy, a faint smile on her lips. Standing a few feet away in one of the hotel’s white terry robes, Edge felt a shot of male satisfaction.

Cross picked up the phone on the first ring. “Why the hell haven’t you called? Our man followed you to the Bellagio and watched you go into your suite. I figured I’d hear from you a couple of hours ago.”

Edge’s gaze went to Skye. “I was busy.”