before he made his getaway.
Jason didn’t think Mosel was involved directly with Avery’s murder. But whoever was behind the bombing and the chip sale was endangering the world, and Mosel was a freelance weapons dealer without conscience. If he didn’t broker it, someone else would. That’s just the way the rotten underworld worked. Mosel always worked for the highest bidder. From what they’d been able to uncover, he didn’t concern himself with consequences, or what he was doing when he put the information out there. He was detached, emotionally uninvolved. It was his contact, the insider, Jason blamed. Jason wanted that man. The man in the agency.
And he thought he knew who it might be, but he’d need irrefutable evidence, unquestionable proof, and that would take setting one more trap. Mosel’s attachment to Emily was unusual for the man. He’d need her to play Mosel for a little bit longer, but very carefully. When Mosel showed up in DC, it would take more self-control than Jason thought he had to set up and follow through with this plan. Mosel’s very presence in all this was a wild card and they couldn’t afford any surprises. Although he expected Mosel to be attracted to Emily, he’d never expected him to be this obsessed. Jason smiled. She sizzled. In hindsight, why shouldn’t the man be just as infatuated as Jason was? Mosel’s feelings worked to their advantage, but personally, it worried him. It made the plan easier in one way, but more difficult in another. He didn’t want to take any chances with Emily, but the painful rehashing of her father’s assassination had gone on long enough for both of them. He had to expose the traitor.
Because he couldn’t be seen with Emily, she’d be on her own after tomorrow. He’d called in Cade and the boys to watch over her when he wasn’t around. She’d be safe with them until he could get home.
Jason turned off the lights, went into the cabin, and undressed. Emily was curled up with her back to him under the throw. Touching her was becoming an elemental need for him. He slid in behind her and held her against him, pressing his erection between her thighs.
Her body responded, turning into his. Her warm breath flicked over his lips, her hands glided down his chest and abs until she stroked him in one hand and cupped him with her other. Her lips brushed his chest as she rolled him to his back and traced the path her hands had taken moments earlier with her tongue. When her lips surrounded the crown of his cock, Jason did everything he could to keep from thrusting the way he wanted. Instead, he forced himself to lie back and allow her to torture him in the most delicious ways imaginable. He didn’t want to know where she’d learned her techniques, but she was one of the best, damn her. So innocent, so curious, so ravenous, so fucking determined.
He gripped her head in his hands and lifted her face. “Come up here and kiss me.”
“If you insist.” She glided up his body one slow inch at a time, kissing along the way, and dragging her breasts against his skin as she went, until at last, she straddled his waist. He could feel her hot, wet core pressed against his lower abdomen. The tension building inside him was pure agony. She was a natural at this type of seduction, too good for his own good. He needed to be inside her, and he needed it now.
“Mount me. Ride me. Take control, Em.”
She rose up, scraping her nails lightly over his nipples and then down his sides as she did. He shivered as the sensation sent ripples to the base of his spine.
She scooted behind his cock and played with him, ringing the tip and stroking him lightly. He gripped his self-control tight as she rose up on her knees, and then sank down over his erect shaft, slowly encompassing him in agonizingly exquisite heat. When he was entirely seated inside her, he arched up, thrusting his full length deep, his balls pressed against her bottom, and his cockhead touching her womb.
Carol Wallace, Bill Wallance