Fatal Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dean walked Sonia into her small, tidy bungalow. There was a small light on in every room and Sonia felt the need to explain, though she sounded a bit sheepish. “I don’t like walking into a dark house. I have night-lights on a timer.”

Though Dean knew what Sonia meant, he let her save face and said, “I don’t blame you. Smart, from a security perspective.” Her bungalow wasn’t homey and well lived in like the Knight family house two blocks away. Dean suspected Sonia didn’t do much but sleep here, but it had a certain charm in the details: a collection of stuffed teddy bears dominated the love seat in the corner of the living room, lacy curtains covered generic venetian blinds, and perhaps the most revealing, an entire wall in the dining room was decorated with photographs of Sonia with her family.

But he was surprised that she didn’t have a security system.

“Why don’t you have an alarm?”

“I never felt the need for one,” she admitted. “Until now. But I’m okay.”

“You won’t mind if I stay here tonight, will you? There are two agents outside, but-”

“Wait.” She stared at him pointedly. “You have two agents watching my house?”

“I was going to tell you,” Dean fibbed. “It’s been a busy day.” Sonia was obviously irritated but too tired to argue. “Get some sleep,” he told her. “I’ll kick back on the couch.”

“I have a guest room,” she said.

“I’d rather be out here.”

“I’ll keep you company for a while.” She went into the kitchen and called, “Thirsty?”

“I’m fine.” He looked at the pictures on the wall. Sonia seemed to have been born a teenager. There were no childhood photos of her.

She came back with a half-glass of white wine and sipped, standing next to him. “That’s Max,” she said, pointing to a tall dark-haired young Marine in full dress. “He’s in Afghanistan right now. Career military.”

“Good for him, and for our country. I was in the Marines for three years.”

“Semper Fi,” Sonia said with pride. She gestured to another picture. “That’s Riley and me at graduation. I’m a year older, but because-you know, my past-I had to play catch-up.”

“You’re close to your brother.”

“He calls me his twin.”

She sounded so forlorn.

“Your family is in good hands,” he told her, clearing his throat.

“I know Duke and his brother will keep them safe.”

“The Knights are good people. I can see why you’re close to them.”

“Owen and Marianne have unlimited love and compassion. I couldn’t have picked better parents.”

She didn’t say anything for a long minute as she stared at her photographs. “You know I’m adopted, right? You know about my history.”

“Some,” Dean said. “You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Good.”

She didn’t sound like it was good.

“Sonia?” he asked quietly. “You okay?”

“What exactly do you know?” she whispered.

She sounded scared and defensive. Dean refused to be anything but honest with Sonia. “When you were thirteen you escaped from traffickers who planned to sell you into prostitution. You bravely testified against them, foreshadowing the strong, smart, determined woman you are today.”

Her voice cracked when she said, “You make it sound heroic.”

“It was heroic,” he said. He took the wineglass from her hand and put it on the table, staring at her in silence until she looked him in the eye. “I have never met a woman I’ve admired half as much as you.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, sheepish. The tip of her tongue ran across her lips. The physical response hit Dean all at once.

Sonia turned and walked into the adjoining living room, her back to him. He followed.

He wanted to hold her, run his tongue over those soft, red lips, taste the wine on her tongue, taste Sonia. Dean wasn’t impulsive in anything he did, especially with relationships. Each one had been carefully planned. All the women picked for their calm reasoning, their self-sufficiency, their intelligence. Dean’s love life was always separate from his job, and his job always came first. He did nothing spontaneously, he’d never wanted to. Until now.

It was all he could do to control the unfamiliar primal urge to grab Sonia and kiss her. Sonia was anything but calm and cool. She was smart and self-sufficient, but hotheaded, impulsive, and passionate. He couldn’t get her out from under his skin. She’d infected him with a desire he could barely keep under wraps. He was pretty damn sure he didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“Sonia-” he began and stopped.

She turned to face him, their eyes locking. Tears had dampened her lashes and a powerful urge to hold and protect her almost brought Dean to his knees.

“Sonia?” he said quietly, reaching for her, touching her cheek, moving his fingers to her neck, her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Her voice cracked. “I feel like my past is coming back to hurt the only people I truly care about.”

He picked her up and carried her to the couch, sitting with her in his lap, their closeness intoxicating. This wasn’t planned or logical, it probably wasn’t even the right thing to do. But Dean couldn’t imagine this was wrong, not the way he felt or how Sonia felt in his arms.

Her arms went around his neck and she leaned in with a sigh that sent a jolt of carnal heat through his body. She was pressed so closely against him she had to know that he wanted her. She felt so good, so right; the aroma of flowers and sweat, femininity and strength. He brushed her thick, wavy hair away from her face, an intimate gesture, then cupped his hand under her chin. He ran his thumb the length of a faint scar across her cheek.

Over her lips. Her mouth parted, her breath warm as she drew his index finger in with her tongue. She watched his face, and Dean absently wondered what she saw. Did she see that he found her amazing, wondrous, and beautiful? She sucked on his finger, then released it. A quiet groan rumbled in his chest.

He couldn’t imagine being anywhere in the world but right here, right now.

Sonia held Dean’s gaze, her face inches from his. She was practically shaking from restraining herself. She’d wanted him since the moment he’d walked into her house. At first, she thought it was her need to unwind, release the tension of the day, but when he looked at her-when he reached out and touched her-something had shifted inside. She didn’t want this to end. She wanted to know Dean. Intimately. Not only tonight, but tomorrow. As long as it took to rid her mind and body of this wanton desire for this man. Outside of her family, she’d never felt like she knew anyone well enough to make them part of her life. But in just a few short days, Sonia could anticipate Dean’s thoughts and ideas, she craved his deep voice in her ear; she admired his logical approach to his job; the way he listened to everyone but always stood by his decision. He was a man of deep thought and decisive action, and there was nothing sexier than a man who knew what he wanted and went after it.

The way Dean was looking at her right now told her he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Their lips touched.

Her breath hitched as soon as his mouth met hers. This was no sweet kiss; her hands were in his hair, holding his head to hers, her mouth opening to draw in his tongue. Urgent. Needful. The kiss wasn’t enough, she wanted more, she needed all of him now. And by the way his lap danced beneath her, only her jeans and his slacks kept the heat between them from combusting. That he wanted all of her just as much spurred her forward.

Her hands couldn’t touch anything but his head from this position, which was no good at all. Not when this incredible man had a long, lean, rock-hard body that begged to be caressed. She sat up, not taking her mouth from his, her hands never stopping. Touching his hair, his ears, his face rough with a day’s growth of beard.

Sonia straddled him and impatiently unbuttoned his tailored shirt. Dean dressed his ripped body well, and she loved the smooth, rich feel of the Egyptian cotton. But she wanted what was underneath far more than she wanted to play with the fine material. She pulled the shirttails from his slacks, then shoved the sleeves down his arms. He was trapped beneath her and she savored the playful restraint. His scent was intoxicating, and she buried her face in his neck and breathed deeply.

She kissed his throat, ran her tongue up his neck until she reached his lips. He claimed her lips. His arms fought with the sleeves of his shirt, but she held him down, returning the kiss with as much intensity as he gave her, then pulled away, licking his strong, square jawline, all the way to his ear. She drew in his lobe and Dean couldn’t restrain the guttural groan she felt deep in his chest, felt it in his lap as he pressed hard against her. He fought again to pull his arms from his sleeves, the friction of his struggle sending shivers up and down her spine. There was no turning back now; nor did she want to. From the moment she had set eyes on him, she’d felt this deep and startling connection; maybe at that moment her subconscious knew this was their fate.

His right hand pulled free and he wrapped it around her waist, holding her tightly against him as his mouth did the same thing to her as she’d done to him. His breath was warm against her flushed neck, but he didn’t stop there. He pulled his left arm free and with one fluid movement had her T-shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind her. She pulled his face to her breasts and he licked everywhere her flesh was exposed. Licking and suckling and kissing until her mouth was dry and her body wet. With one hand he unhooked her bra and she shook herself free. She pushed her hands beneath his undershirt and massaged his deltoids, relishing his hard, fit body. Damn, but she loved a man who took care of himself, who kept his muscles finely tuned.

“Oh, God, Sonia.” Dean’s fingers skimmed over her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until her chest heaved and perspiration clung to every inch of her flesh. Then his mouth claimed one breast and suddenly she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think, as Dean focused all his attention on that one part of her body. An involuntary gasp escaped her throat, and the sound urged him on. He switched his mouth to the other breast, while his hands grabbed her ass and squeezed. The dual attention had Sonia on the edge, ready to go over. She fought with his buckle. There was a time to go slow and savor every new sensation, but she didn’t want slow and easy; she wanted fast and hard. And she wanted it now.

Dean could have spent an hour on Sonia’s incredible, responsive breasts, but as soon as her hands unzipped his pants and reached inside, grasping him firmly, he groaned and pulled back, willing himself to stay in control and not let loose like a frat boy. Staying in control with a woman like Sonia in his lap was not easy. Hell, it was damned impossible.

She pulled his wallet from the back of his pants and handed it to him. “Tell me you’re prepared.”

He would have laughed if she didn’t look so damn serious, her skin flushed, her rapid breathing making her chest heave erotically. “I was a Boy Scout.” His voice was rougher, deeper than usual. “Go ahead.”

She opened his billfold and frowned as she checked the few slots. Then she smiled like a siren when behind his driver’s license she found one foil package.

She stood up and he thought she wanted to go to the bedroom, but when he tried to stand she pushed him back down. “Stay right where you are.”

She pulled his pants off him, her hands never stopping. Her body practically vibrated with electricity. She stepped out of her jeans and lacy panties and sheathed him herself, her fingers playing while at work. He grunted, then pulled her mouth to his and kissed her long and hard. Over and over, bringing in her tongue, and giving her his. She responded in kind, straddled him, and with one deep thrust pushed herself onto his cock with a high-pitched gasp from her lips as she sat on him.

Dean watched Sonia’s flushed face, her hair damp, one side tucked behind an ear, the rest loose and wild, making her look both sexy and wholesome at the same time.

In this position, he couldn’t control their lovemaking; he wanted to show her how much he cared, how much he craved spending hours getting to know every inch of her. But Sonia wanted him now, impatient and passionate, and after only a moment of stillness that seemed foreign for her, she started moving her hips up and down, her breasts rubbing against his bare chest, and Dean lost all conscious thought as he grabbed her hips and held on.

Sonia was a passionate woman in everything she did, but Dean took her beyond passion into deep lust, a need so great that she didn’t want to let him go. She moved fast and deep, feeling him inside and outside of her, his hands firmly holding her hips, pushing her down on him, as they developed a rhythm that promised a quick, powerful release. The heat inside her boiled over, and she clenched her muscles to prolong it, in contrast to her hips, which moved faster, pushed harder.

“Sonia,” Dean whispered roughly.

She opened her eyes and he kissed her hard, then held her on his lap and thrust his hips upward, his body pressed hard against her most sensitive spot as he adjusted their position just slightly. His whole body stiffened beneath her; her back arched as she lost control, her orgasm developing a mind of its own and shocking her with its intensity. She cried out, and Dean pulled her to him as they rode out the waves until they completely subsided.

She collapsed, panting, parched, and completely satiated. Dean kissed her neck, her hair, her face, her lips. He entwined her hands in his and squeezed them.

“God, Sonia,” he murmured. “I wanted you since I first saw you.”

She saw he spoke the truth, in his unwavering gaze, heard the truth in his firm voice. Warmth spread through her body and soul, a sense of peace, of belonging. Could she have found her soul mate when she wasn’t even looking? In her entire adult life, she’d had half a dozen relationships lasting months, but had never felt this close, this intimate, this loved.

She touched Dean’s face, kissed him lightly on the lips, put her forehead to his and sighed.

Dean sensed a change inside Sonia, and he was at a loss for words. He was embarking on something new, something incredible, and didn’t want to blow it. Not with Sonia. This wasn’t a woman to be put aside for all but the few hours of the month he was willing to put his job on the back burner. She would be part of everything he did, work and play. He didn’t realize until then that he’d wanted someone he could share everything with. He’d always been reserved and demanded his privacy, but with Sonia he could bare everything.

A moment later, Sonia eased herself off his lap and held out her hand with a sly grin. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, Agent Hooper.”

He grabbed her hand. “I’m not?”

She yanked him up off the couch. He wasn’t expecting it, but Sonia was stronger than she looked. He stood easily, enjoying how her hard, defined muscles bulged just enough to give her the strength to lift him. She looked absolutely glorious standing in front of him completely naked.

“I have a very comfortable bed.” She glanced at her watch. “Not even midnight. My alarm goes off at six-thirty, I think maybe we can sacrifice thirty or forty minutes of shut-eye. You’re already pretty hot-looking, you don’t need much beauty sleep.”

Dean enjoyed this rare playful side of Sonia Knight.

He kissed her, then picked her up like a bride. “Direct me to your chambers.”

Her eyes brightened, and a curve of a smile had him wanting to take her away from everything and into a private world where he could discover her deepest thoughts and dreams, and fulfill her most intimate fantasies.

She pointed down the short hall, her finger waving lazily to the right, then lifted her head to kiss him.

He followed her direction and pushed open the door on the right, carrying her across the threshold. Her bedside lamp was on low, casting long shadows across her lacy white bedspread. The lazy movement of her ceiling fan overhead cut swatches in the dim light, but something was interfering with the perfectly symmetrical blades.

They both looked up at the same time. Sonia stifled a scream and Dean put her down as he reached for his gun that wasn’t there.

But a gun wouldn’t have done any good.

Hanging by a thin string from the edge of a fan blade was Greg Vega’s missing tongue.