She said his name in a plea for satisfaction, and it seemingly worked. His rhythm increased, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the small space of the shower.
“Come for me, love. I want to feel it.”
Somehow, he slipped his hand between them to stroke her clit. Just two strokes and all the tension inside of her exploded.
“Ian!”
His name echoed through the bathroom as the fire he’d built consumed her.
“God, yes,” he groaned thrusting harder and harder. Even as her first orgasm ebbed, another one seemed to be building right behind it.
She couldn’t speak. All she could do was surrender to the erotic assault. Her second release seemed even more profound than the first. This time, Ian was with her, pouring himself into her.
She felt his mouth move over her neck before he pulled back. They were both soaking wet from the shower.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of you, Lila.”
She wanted to have some kind of snappy comeback, but she couldn’t find one. Instead, she just stared at him like she was an idiot. Because she was. There was no doubt in her mind that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.
She had fallen headfirst in love with Ian Charles Smith.
Sixteen
He was done with this god-forsaken island. From the moment he’d ended up here chasing Delilah, he had realized that he didn’t want to keep the property he owned there. It was an estate with more land than any one person should own surrounding it. Once he took care of his problem—meaning the very elusive Delilah—he would jet off.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and he knew that it was Mason. The man had proven barely able to handle his job, but he had been desperate. Normally, he would do things from a distance, mainly blowing shit up. But things had changed. He wanted to look in Delilah’s eyes when she died.
“You have news,” he said the moment Mason stepped into the room. He didn’t turn around to look at his employee, but he sensed his pause. Mason had to have known he could hear him stomping down the hallway.
“Yes. I found her at a safe house owned by Dillon Security.”
He looked over his shoulder at Mason. The man looked the part of enforcer. Not overly tall but built like a brick house. Half-Hawaiian, he sported tats up and down both arms and a buzz cut keeping his thick, dark hair out of his way. There was a scar that slashed down his right cheek. A dark shirt stretched across his massive chest and tucked into dark cargo pants. The boots completed the outfit. And yes, he understood that it was part of the job to dress like that, but he hated it. It was so…uncouth.
“How did you find her?”
“I figured they would call in a big part of their team to help. We put a tracker on the FBI agent’s car.”
He turned to face Mason. “Are you trying to tell me that the owner of Dillon Security didn’t know you put a tracker on his car?”
Mason blinked. He had dead eyes, the kind a killer wore.
“No. I mean Miko Andersen. She’s a new hire.”
“The profiler?”
He nodded. “I didn’t follow her to the house. Once she hit the property line of an estate in the rainforest, her signal disappeared. The only reason for that to happen was some damned good security.”
It was, but he had expected nothing else from Conner Dillon. The man was a legend in the business. He knew if the guy could be turned, so many countries would love to employ him. But he was one of those assholes with morals. He’d never needed those himself.
“Show me,” he said, waving to the laptop on his desk. Mason hurried over and pulled up a map. The interesting thing was that it wasn’t that far from where his own estate was located.
“She drove to here,” he said pointing to the map. “The signal disappeared after she turned down this street. Called in a favor to get a picture of what was there and found out that the gate to the estate is here. They must have some kind of blocker on the property. But still, it wasn’t hard to find the house. It was up for sale not too long ago.”
Mason pulled up a listing along with a video. “This is the walk through.”
This seemed sloppy for Dillon. Was it a trap?
“Sir?”
