Julie Leto - Too Wild to Hold

With a squeal that announced she was back in character, she grabbed his hands and dragged him behind the silk screen in the corner. To anyone listening at the door, her giggles reverberated with giddy excitement. He barely had time to lock his brain on what was happening when she started to tear at his cravat.

“They can still see us from behind this screen,” she said, making short work of the loose knot at his neck. “Our shadows, at the very least. We’re going to have to make this look good.”

Despite the rush of blood roaring through his ears, Michael pieced together her meaning. She still assumed his kisses and innuendos were part of his cover—part of some plan to convince the gatekeepers of Nouvelle Placage that the two of them were just like everyone else in attendance—horny, costumed fetishists who’d come here not to dig into their secret world, but to revel in forbidden desires.

Okay. He could work with that. Especially if it meant stripping down with Claire and discovering the true lusciousness beneath her elaborate gown.

He spun her around and loosened the ties on her bodice.

“Just how far are you willing to take this?” he asked, trailing his tongue from the base of her skull, down her spine, to the gradually spreading laces of her gown.

“As far as we have to,” she said, breathless, her voice hitching when his tongue hit the spot directly between her shoulder blades.

She tasted like a gourmet dessert, a combination of flavors that played with the notions of salty and sweet.

“You?” she asked, tossing a sassy glance over her shoulder.

In another time, another place, another situation, he might have said that he’d only go as far as necessary to keep the mission intact. But here, now, with Claire, under the influence of his ancestor’s ring, all bets were off.

“As far as you want to go,” he replied.

She spun around. With her top sufficiently loosened, the stiff material of the bodice and sleeves floated around her corseted breasts like clouds of shimmering satin. Michael’s mouth instantly watered for a taste.

Just one taste.

“Care to be more specific?” she asked.

He smoothed his hands down her back, his fingers spanning her slim waist. Claire was not willowy or thin, but curvaceous and athletic. Her arms were tanned and muscled, but she possessed a natural softness that made him lift her up from her elbows so he could properly inhale the scent of the lotions clinging to her skin.

“How specific?”

He pressed her full against his body, so that she could not mistake the feel of his erection even through the layers of her gown.

“Oh.”

The sound of her surprise, coupled with the flush of pink across her cheeks, fired him even more. He tugged her to him, his lips so close to hers he could feel her breath as he spoke.

“I came here with no intention beyond getting you to safety as soon as possible. But I’d be lying if I denied how beautiful you are or how hot you look in that dress, especially now that it’s half off. Making love to you would not be a hardship. In fact, it would be my pleasure.”

Her mouth dropped open momentarily, but then she laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pierced him with a stare so bold, he thought he might lose his mind.

“Then I think I’m going to like working with you, Special Agent Murrieta.”

“If we do it right, it won’t be work. And please, call me Michael.”

“By all means, Michael. Let’s give those bastards behind the camera something worth watching.”

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