She tasted like sun and sand and suppressed fear. She felt like hard earth, the muscles beneath his fingers taut with training and tension. But her mouth? Her mouth that had driven him to a ripe hot erection was supple and sensual. And so very giving.
She made a little sound in the back of her throat as if she hated to surrender but didn’t give a damn if she did.
Just how he wanted her. Conflicted but trusting. He kissed her again, fierce as thunder, moving over her mouth like he’d never let go.
She broke away, her head falling back, exposing her throat to him.
And he couldn’t refuse such an offer.
“We can’t do this,” she objected and pushed at him, even though her fingers tore at his polo shirt.
“We can. Must.” He nibbled his way down the strong column of her throat.
“We don’t know each other!”
“Of course, we do. I’m the man who just saved your life.” He pressed his lips to the hollow where her pulse beat, fast and hot. “You’re saying thank you,” he murmured as he let her take his shirt up over his head.
She let out a huge laugh. “That’s big payback, Mr. Molloy.”
“Adam.” He licked at her collar bone.
She sighed and sought out the button on his khakis. “An Israeli from the Mossad with an Irish name?”
He caressed the curves of her shoulders, his lips brushing her silky skin there. “Mom’s from Jersey and lives in Jerusalem. Daddy was from Boston and Londonderry.”
“Wow,” she said languidly, trying to catch her balance as he bent her backwards in his arms and tasted the center of her deep cleavage. “Bet he was with the IRA.”
“A rebel with a cause. Best bomber the Brits never caught.” He spread his legs, cupped her sweet tight ass cheeks and nuzzled the top of one full firm breast.
“Is that why you’re Mossad?”
“Runs in the blood.” He nodded and nudged her bikini top slightly with his lips. “What runs in yours?”
“Apache warriors and Italian sculptors.”
That had him smiling against her fragrant skin. “The lady is hot blooded.”
She skimmed her hands up his shoulders, one set of fingers twining in his hair. “Injustice makes me mad.”
“See?” he offered, relieved to learn that she had personal motivation for what she did. “Birds of a feather. Makes us perfect partners.”
She chuckled as he untied the string of her bra and stared at her full proud breasts. Christ, what gorgeous nipples. Dark rose and pouting. He could hardly wait to see her pussy. He walked her backward to the wall, where he seized her wrists and forced them up alongside her face.
“You know this is crazy,” she objected in a whisper.
“Crazier if I walked away without you−—or this,” he murmured as he shut her up with another kiss. “Last chance, Nicole Welles, to put me out the door.”