“You think I don’t get that this is a setup? I have fucking intel that lets me know exactly what sort of man I’m up against. I don’t need your fool ass giving me advice.”
Vino’s hands had lifted. They were shaking. Curled like claws.
Kurt yanked the knife to the left. “You don’t walk away when another man steals your bride. That shit makes you look weak. Understand this, there is no world in which I don’t go after Nash Quinn and kill him.”
Vino’s hands never touched his neck.
“I will never, ever be weak.” He left the knife in Vino’s neck. Kurt pulled his hands back into the rear of the limo. Nodded. Kurt straightened his tie, and he climbed from the vehicle.
His head tilted back as he stared up at the sky. It was too bright here to see the stars clearly. Vegas was always too bright for you to see the stars when you were in the city. But you go outside the city, you travel just far enough, and it was like a whole new world.
He knew, because he’d often traveled out of the city. It was easier to hide bodies out there.
Kurt put his phone to his ear. “Gonna need a new ride.” Or, at the very least, a new driver. Then he’d be going to collect his wife.
And kill CIA operative Nash Quinn.
Not like it was the first time he’d killed a spook. Not the first, not the last. But it did take more skill to eliminate someone with Nash’s training. Skill and the right distraction.
Luckily, he had the perfect distraction.
And her name was Delaney.
Chapter Seventeen
The water thundered down on them. Delaney’s legs were still wrapped around Nash’s waist. Her hands clung to his shoulders even as her nails bit into his skin.
She should probably move.
She would move, as soon as the aftershocks of pleasure stopped careening through her body. Until then, her sex squeezed around him. Around his very much hardening cock. Because his cock was getting bigger, already. Again.
Her eyes opened. She stared up at Nash. His face appeared brutally handsome as he gazed back at her. Blazing eyes. Locked jaw. Sharp cheekbones.
“I need you again,” he told her. “Can you handle me?”
Deliberately, she squeezed him once more, holding him fiercely with her inner muscles.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Yes, wasn’t that what they were doing? Fucking in the shower? As the water poured around them and steam settled into the air?
He pulled his dick back. Not out completely. Leaving the head inside of her. The broad, thick head, and then he drove back inside.
She sucked in a breath.
He kept watching her.
He pulled his dick back. Again, just leaving that broad head inside of her. She was so sensitive, her body on edge, and when he drove deep inside of her again…
A moan tore from her. Her nails sank into the muscles of his arms.
His eyes never left her face. He watched her as if memorizing every feature.
His cock withdrew. Pushed deep.
Back. In.
Her hips arched toward him. She gripped him as fiercely as she could. He’d been fast and frantic before. She’d been the same way. As if the lust had taken over and the only thing that mattered had been feeling the maelstrom of their release. But this time…
