He twisted his hips, hitting her clit with every stroke, building the tension until she was a live wire waiting to go off. One more deep stroke and the orgasm crashed through her.
He halted her cry, drinking it down. “That’s what I want from you.”
Then he gave her what she wanted. He pressed deep, holding himself inside her as he gave up his come, his gorgeous face tightening as he came.
His body relaxed, lowering to her, his muscles losing their tension and sweet peace showing on his face. She’d given him that, and he’d given her a future.
“I would have done it, too, Charlie.” His cock was still inside her, and he made no move to roll off. He kissed her again, but this was a lazy, satiated seduction. “I would have chosen Sean.”
She squeezed him so tight. “You forgive me?”
“For choosing Chelsea? No. There’s nothing to forgive there. For not trusting me? Yes. There wasn’t enough time. But there is now. We have to choose each other. We have to pick each other. I trust you, Charlie. I’m sorry for even thinking about what that fucker said about you. You’re my wife. I believe you.”
That meant something to Ian Taggart. “I’ll put you above everyone, Ian. I’m yours now. Yours and no one else’s. I love my sister and I hope I can help her, but at the end of this life, I want to be beside you.”
A little smile curled up his lips. He thrust his hips again, proving he was already recovering. “And I want to be inside you. Three times a day, baby.”
His mouth took hers and he proceeded to prove his point.
Chapter Seventeen
The perpetual buzzing in his ear was starting to get to him.
“All right, that’s Kamdar’s boat pulling up on the beach,” Damon said through the communications device they were using.
“Thanks, I couldn’t tell that was a boat,” Ian shot back.
Damon seemed to think he needed a running commentary. The MI6 boys, Ten, and Simon had taken a perch high above the beach at the Cabo de Rama Fort. The fort was nothing but an interesting set of ruins surrounded by fruit trees and monkeys. It did, however, give them a good view of the beach and the exchange about to take place.
Jesse had been relegated to babysitting the brat and making sure she didn’t find a handy Internet connection. Chelsea seemed to have gone quiet, turning in on herself. He’d expected her to argue with him, but she’d simply nodded and gone back to watching the palm trees outside the hut. Hopefully she wouldn’t give Jesse too much trouble. Of course, he was also supposed to be watching Charlie, but Ian had other plans for his gorgeous wife.
He wasn’t leaving her behind with anyone. But the boys up at the fort didn’t need to know that until the time came.
Sean huffed a little as he sat back, his feet in the sand and the rest of him on a low-slung lounger. He was dressed formally for the beach in khakis and a polo, a camera bag by his side. “Do they think we can’t read?”
His brother’s voice dripped sarcasm. There was only one lightweight speedboat plowing up the sand, and it had an elaborately painted name on the side that read Little Kash.
Ian assumed that the massive yacht in the distance was Big Kash. The king obviously didn’t have self-esteem problems.
“Stop with the whining and listen up.” Baz’s voice came through this time. “According to everything we’ve been able to dig up in a short period of time, you should be safe. Kamdar’s security has always been tight with the exception of the women he sleeps with. However, they apparently don’t wear a lot of clothing so if you see a bird coming at you with an Uzi, you should duck.”
Yes, he needed humor right now. He was already in a bad position because he was running out of time. This was a calculated play on his part. Kamdar’s men were said to be terrifically loyal, and according to MI6 they had all been with the king for a long period of time.
This was his shot. The boat was larger, but contained. As long as the king’s guard was loyal, Charlie would likely be safer on that boat than she was out in the open.
A large man with a poorly concealed pistol in his pocket parked the boat and motioned toward the road. Immediately a group of men started hauling crates of what looked like liquor and food from a truck parked up on the road that ran along the beach.
King Kash didn’t have to pull into port. Port came to him. Men immediately went to work, loading down the speedboat with crates.
Ian waited. His timing had to be perfect. Too soon and there would be too many men around. Too late and he would miss the boat. Literally.
Sean yawned a little, watching the workers scurrying around the tourists. “You seem happier today. Is that because we’re going to get to kill Nelson or do you have other reasons? You seemed determined to sleep in this morning.”
Yep, this was his life now. This was why real Agency men didn’t bring their brothers out into the field. So they didn’t have to have relationship talks in the middle of an op. “I took your advice. Let’s leave it at that.”
But Sean didn’t. A grin spread across his brother’s face. “Are you kidding me? You finally listened? Shit. I owe Adam some cash. I said you would stay stubborn to the end. Hey, big brother, you want to spot me a couple hundred?”
He was so not paying for his brother’s bad habit of betting on his love life. He had a love life. The thought of putting the words love and life together didn’t make him want to vomit. Though he would never say that out loud. Yeah, he bet Sean would have lost a bundle if he’d bet on that.
He was saved from having to reply by Damon’s voice coming over the transmitter in his ear. “All right, mates. So it’s almost time. From what I can tell, he only has a small dedicated security team with him, but you can bet the crew on board that yacht is likely trained as well. We’ve vetted them as much as we can. They all look like loyal Loa Mali citizens. We think he’s got roughly three women with him right now. We have no names on them. Remember your cover. You have to convince this man that you’re reporters who have a meeting to interview the king about his upcoming appearance at the United Nations next month.”
Baz’s voice came through next. “Your man Adam says he’s managed to break into the king’s secretary’s system so when he looks at the calendar, it will tell him he’s scheduled to pick you up here.”
With the liquor. Nice.
“Do you boys have your credentials? Now don’t tell me you got all lazy and left them in the car. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the nice folks who stayed up all night making sure your cover looks good.” The question came out on a lazy drawl, but Ian was pretty sure Ten thought this was his op.
He was about to find out otherwise.
“I have them,” Ian replied. They had gone to a whole lot of trouble to dummy up very respectable-looking credentials. He was supposed to be some reporter named Brian Klein from Newsweek. Sean was his photographer. It was an elaborate plan, the kind agencies like the CIA and MI6 loved to come up with. Ian would swear that most operatives really needed to be writing fiction. They could be so damn overdramatic. He and Sean were supposed to infiltrate the king of Loa Mali’s yacht under the guise of reporters getting a scoop and figure out if Kash knew anything without telling him what they were up to.
It was a stupid plan and it very likely wouldn’t work. Simplicity was really the way to go here. He needed to get the king’s attention. The king wasn’t known for liking reporters. But Ian knew what the man did like.
“So where’s our stowaway?” Sean asked. He’d wholeheartedly agreed to the change of plans, and Simon was up at the fort to make sure no one decided to run down in time to mess things up.