ONE

Brisbane,

Australia

LIGHT CRASHED AND THUNDER boomed. Rain poured down in sheets as Brisbane

experienced one of its hardest thunderstorms in years. Inches of water fell, saturated

the ground, and ran in streams along sidewalks and roads. The wind howled and

raged, and inside the tiny bungalow just outside town, the woman who had always

hated the thunder, detested the lightning, and scowled at the rain paid little heed to

the storm.

Through slitted lids she watched as Trent Daylen, the tough, sun-darkened,

laughing Australian Secret Intelligence agent she had been paired with on the

mission they’d just finished, kissed the arch of her foot with greedy arousal.

Bailey wanted to moan at the sight. She’d never, at any time, had her foot kissed

by anyone. It was almost like being a virgin all over again, because the sensations

this man inspired inside her assured her that she had much more to learn.

“Like silk,” he whispered, the low, slow drawl of his accent sending shivers up

her spine as his lips slid to her ankle.

Bailey fought to simply breathe. She hadn’t expected this. She’d wanted it,

ached for him, dreamed of him, but she had never expected to actually find herself

in his arms when the mission was over.

“Come on, love, let’s get those jeans off. Let me see those gorgeous legs.”

Legs he’d watched through the months, making her so wet she’d nearly had to

change her panties several times. She’d worn short skirts and skimpy tops to play a

waitress in a low-end dive in Brisbane as they searched for an Australian naval

officer selling secrets of a top-secret military base both their countries were

conducting operations out of.

They’d caught the officer. They’d celebrated with drinks. And now they were

celebrating with each other.

Bailey watched as his fingers, long and strong, moved to the clasp and zipper of

her jeans. They came loose easily, the rasp of the closure audible even over the

storm that raged outside.

Her stomach clenched, her sex heated as the material parted and he gripped the

hem, drawing the pants over her thighs and down her legs.

He was still dressed. She wanted him naked. But his lips at her hip bone stilled

her hands as they moved for the buttons of his bush shirt. Her nails raked against

the hard muscles of his shoulders, and the involuntary arching of her hips surprised

her.

She could feel the dampness building between her thighs, soaking the sensitive

folds there, sheening moisture along her thighs. She had never been so wet in her

life, so ready for a man’s touch, his kiss.

“Trent.” She moaned his name. She couldn’t help it. She needed more, so much

more that she wondered if her need would ever be sated.

“Patience, love,” he soothed her gently as he moved back up her body, one hand

easing the fabric of her shirt up her stomach, to her breasts. “Let’s get these clothes

off that gorgeous body of yours. I swear I’ve dreamed of kissing every inch of that

perfect, silky flesh.”

There was nothing perfect about her body and she knew it. But he sounded as

though he believed it. As though he saw perfection somewhere in her.

Heat sizzled under her skin when his palm raked over a tight, hard nipple as he

drew her shirt farther up. Then he was gripping the hem, pulling it over her head.

Before it cleared her head, his lips were back on hers and she was sinking into a

morass of rich, sensual sensations, into a pleasure that rocked her, drew her tight

against him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as his lips took hers. His tongue pushed past,

brushed against her own, then retreated. He sipped at her lips, caressed them, then

came back with a hungry demand that had her crying out into the kiss.

Desperate fingers fisted into the material of his shirt as she tried to drag it up his

body, fighting to touch his flesh. Hard, hot flesh that invited her hands, muscles

that flexed above her.

Bailey writhed beneath him, her hands reaching beneath the shirt to clench on

his back, her nails scraping against his flesh as she gripped her thighs tightly

closed and fought for enough sensation against her clit to ease the ache building in

it.

“Don’t stop,” she cried out as he drew back.

“Stop? Not on your life, sweetheart.” He tore his shirt over his head, his

normally serene gray eyes stormy now as he revealed the dark blond scattering of

hair that covered his hard chest and arrowed down the darkly tanned stomach and

tight abs.

His own jeans hung low on his hips, teasing her with the bulge beneath them. It

looked huge.

Shaking, Bailey reached out her palm, flattening it against the center of his

chest and smoothing down the silky hairs that covered it. She felt him flexing

beneath her touch, the hard muscle and tough skin reacting to the caress as his

expression tightened with hunger. His gaze was murky, swirling with shades of

gray and sexual power as her fingers caressed to the snap of his jeans.

Bailey couldn’t resist. She ached. She needed. She’d been working with him for

months and all she’d been able to think about was the lean, muscular body and

sensual swagger. How he would kiss, taste, touch. What it would be like to kiss,

taste, and touch in turn. So far, it was like fireworks erupting through her system.

She fought to breathe. She fought to hold back, to enjoy every sensation, every

heated touch.

She pulled at the snap as he rose on his knees above her, his gaze narrowed as he

stared down at her. The zipper loosened easily, and Bailey felt her mouth go dry a

second before it began to water in hunger.

Long, thick, the heavily aroused shaft throbbed, the darkened crest flared out

and sheened with moisture.

“You make a man lose his mind.” His voice was rough, thick with arousal.

The sound of it sent a clench of desperate sensation straight to her womb. He

sounded hungry, desperate for her. The thought that this man, so incredibly bold,

so hard and rugged, ached for her sent the blood crashing through her veins and

arcs of heated desire striking through the erogenous zones of her body.

“I’ve already lost mine,” she panted as his fingers curled around the mound of

one breast.

Her nipple peaked hard, desperately tight and hot. When his thumb raked over

it, Bailey felt her heart trying to come out of her chest.

Lifting herself until she was sitting in front of him, she gripped the edges of his

jeans and dragged them down his thighs as her lips pressed to those tight abs.

Parting them, she licked the tough flesh, nipped at it, and was rewarded by the

harsh, male groan that tore from his chest.

That was what she wanted to hear. Those rough sexy male sounds that assured

her it was good, that she was giving him pleasure. That he wanted her. That maybe

he ached for her as desperately as she ached for him.

She curled her fingers around the silk-and-iron length of his erection, pumped it

slow and easy, and watched as more moisture beaded the tip.

The flared head was just beneath her lips, enticing her, drawing her hunger.

“Little tease,” he moaned above her as his fingers threaded through her hair,

tugging at the long strands, causing the ends to caress her bare back and send

another sensual sensation arcing through her system.

“Tease?” she whispered. “I’m not teasing, Trent. I’m very damned serious.”

Her tongue licked over the moisture beading the tip of his cock, causing a husky

grumble to leave his chest.

He liked that. His hips arched closer to her, his muscled thighs clenched

violently, and the throb of his flesh beneath her fingers intensified.

He drew her as no other man ever had. He made her wish things, want things she

had never wanted before. Need for him drowned out the loneliness and the sound of

the storm beyond the windows.

Bailey parted her lips, needing more of him, aching for it as she had never ached

for anything else. She covered the hot crest of his cock with her mouth, sucked him

inside, and, through the strangled groan he gave, laved the sensitive head with her

tongue.

He tasted hot and completely male. Like the storm outside, wild and untamed.

Trent Daylen was like a surfer boy mixed with a killer. A delicate balance of

rakish charm and irresistible danger. And for tonight he was all hers.

“God, Bailey, your mouth.” His voice wrapped around her, urged her on.

With the fingers of her free hand she reached between his thighs, let the tips of

her nails scour against the tight sac drawn close to the base of his cock.

His hands tightened in her hair. Bailey sucked him deeper, let her tongue lick

over the engorged flesh, and felt her own pleasure rising.

Each suck of her mouth, each touch of her fingers brought a reaction for her. His

hands tightening in her hair, his rough voice groaning her name, a sigh of pleasure

passing his lips.

“Damn, you’re enough to make a man crazed,” he accused her, though he didn’t

sound in the least resentful. He sounded sexy and dark, dangerous and playful.

“Suck it, sweetheart. Steal my mind.”

What was left of it anyway. He was rakish, playful, an adrenaline junkie with a

cause and she loved every facet of his personality.

She loved him.

Bailey almost paused. She almost hesitated in the pleasure she was giving him

at the revelation that she could possibly love him.

She loved him. Over the months of working with him she had somehow

managed to lose her heart to him.

“Damn, Bailey. Baby.” His hips pumping, he fucked her mouth with the hard,

straining length of his cock as his fingers moved to her nipples, plucking at the

tight points and sending pleasure rocking straight between her thighs.

She moaned around his cock as she sucked and licked the throbbing head. She

tasted him and grew hungry for more as her hands stroked over his thighs now.

“Hell yes.” She could feel his gaze on her, watching her. Lifting her eyes, Bailey

was caught by the storm swirling in the depths of his gaze.

“Let me watch you lick it, Bailey,” he commanded, his voice harder now, more

dominant. “Use your tongue on me, baby.”

She drew back, her tongue extending, licking, stroking. God he felt so good,

tasted so male. She’d been desperate to touch him, and now that she had him she

was shaking with the wonder of it.

“Fuck me, yes,” he muttered. “That’s what I’m going to do to you, sweetheart.

Lick your sweet pussy till you scream. Till you’re begging for more.”

She was ready to beg now. The very thought of his tongue stroking between her

thighs sent her juices spilling from her sex to dampen the folds further.

“Suck me now.” The hands in her hair pressed her closer until her lips were

parting, taking him inside the wet warmth of her mouth as his cock flexed and

throbbed and spilled a precious drop of pre-cum.

Bailey licked at it eagerly, hungrily. She was lost in the moment, the pleasure,

and the man. Nothing mattered outside the walls of the bungalow, nothing

mattered except this. Touching him. Feeling his touch.

She filled her mouth with the engorged flesh of his cock, taking a small amount

of it, suckling at the head, licking at it, and finding her reward in the hard, guttural

groans coming from his chest.

She glanced up at him, saw the hard savage pleasure that twisted his expression,

and the blood thundered through her veins in excitement. She was an admitted

adrenaline junkie herself, but no high she had experienced could compare to this.

Taking Trent into her mouth, caressing him, seeing his pleasure in her. It made

her feel beautiful. She felt desired.

“Hell. No more.” He was dragging her head back.

Bailey moaned in protest. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him exploding

in her mouth, taking her, marking her.

“Enough,” he ordered, the rich velvet of his voice roughening as she found

herself on her back once again.

He held her wrists in one hand, stretching them above her head as he stared

down at her, the thick sandy blond lashes shielding his dark gray eyes as he

watched her.

His lips were fuller now. A dark flush mantled his cheeks as the long strands of

dark blond hair fell over his brow.

“I’m going to eat you up like candy,” he promised, licking his lips as Bailey

fought back a sensual cry.

“I think you’re just going to talk me to death,” she accused him roughly.

His chuckle was dark and deep. It was filled with purpose and washed over her

senses like a soft summer rain as his head lowered, his lips going to one plump

nipple.

Bailey arched beneath him as the heat of his mouth surrounded the sensitive tip.

Her fingers curled until her nails bit into her palms and she strained against his

head.

“Oh God, Trent.” She wanted to scream his name but didn’t have the breath to

do more than push out a whispered cry.

Her fingers fisted into his hair as he sucked at the hard point of her nipple. His

tongue lashed at it, his teeth raked it. He tormented it, tortured it until she arched

against him, strangled cries leaving her throat as she fought to hold him to her.

Perspiration sheened her flesh, desire dampened her thighs. She could feel the

pulse and throb of blood inside her sex and the aching tightness of her clit.

She was on fire. Flames were racing across her flesh, tingling between her thighs.

When he slid his leg between hers, the heavy muscle of his upper leg pressing into

the aching folds between her thighs, she nearly came from the contact.

Arching into the pressure, her hips writhed as she rubbed the swollen knot of her

clit into his hot flesh. She could feel sensation winding tighter in her womb, the

need for orgasm becoming painful as his lips moved from one peaked nipple to the

next.

When he moved back, his lips roaming down her body, Bailey was helpless

against the desire tearing through her. Her legs parted for his shoulders, and when

his tongue licked through the heavy juices built along the folds of her sex, she

nearly came off the bed, the pleasure was so great.

It was like having a flame, sensual, wicked, laid to her flesh. His tongue licked

slow and easy through the narrow slit; then his lips caught at the flesh, gave it a

suckling kiss before moving to the sensitive folds on the other side.

His teeth rasped against the swollen mound, his tongue licking around her clit.

And all the while his fingers played a rapturous, torturous little game as they

circled and probed at the entrance.

“You’re the tease,” she cried out as her fingers clenched in his hair and she

fought to hold him in place while he gave an exquisite little suckling kiss to her

clit. “You’re killing me, Trent.”

“Loving you,” he muttered against her sex. “God, Bailey, you taste like peaches

and cream.”

“Soap,” she moaned.

His chuckle sent pleasure tearing through her.

“That’s not soap.” He kissed her again, a deep tongue-licking kiss right into the

center of her pussy. “That’s my baby. So sweet and hot I could melt right into her.”

Oh God. She almost dissolved herself then and there. When his tongue thrust

inside her again she swore she was going to do more than melt. She was going to

explode. She was going disintegrate right there in his arms.

“You’re killing me.” He rose between her thighs. He reach out to the bed table,

retrieved a condom he had opened earlier, and rolled it quickly over his cock.

“Come here, Bailey. Come on, love. Have me now.”

Have him now? She wanted to have him always.

Lifting her hips, she watched as the swollen head of his cock eased between the

lips of her sex and nudged against the entrance of her vagina. She watched, wideeyed, the breath stilling in her lungs as he began to ease inside her.

If she had felt on fire before, she felt more so now. With each shift of his hips,

she could feel the burning stretch as her muscles fought to accommodate the width

of his flesh. The folds of her pussy gleamed with her juices as the dark, heavy shaft

parted them.

It was arousing, the sight of him taking her intensifying the pleasure until

Bailey didn’t think she could take much more. She was burning in the center of a

storm; lightning erupted inside her, thunder crashed through her veins. She was lost

in a turmoil of sensation and had no idea how to hold on.

“Hold on to me, baby.” As though he knew what the pleasure was doing to her.

He took her hands and led them to his wrists, first one then the other. Her fingers

wrapped around the strong breadth of them as her hips arched, a cry tearing from

her as she took more of him.

“So sweet,” he murmured. “There you go, love. Watch me take you. I’ve never

seen anything so damned hot in my life as the sight of you taking my dick.”

His hips bunched and moved, his cock stroked deeper inside her, sending her

nerve endings into a maelstrom of sensation that whipped through her mind.

Nothing existed but the feel of him moving inside her, taking her, stretching her

until she was crying out his name, begging for more. Deeper. Harder. The short

delving strokes weren’t enough. She wanted all of him. She wanted to feel him

taking her, stretching her, burning her alive with his possession.

“Damn, Bailey. Wait a minute.” His hands gripped her hips as he tried to hold

her still.

Bailey’s head thrashed against the pillows. “No. Please, Trent. Don’t wait. Please

don’t wait.” Her muscles clenched around him, spasming with the need she

couldn’t control as he threw his head back and thrust his hips forward.

Time dissolved. Bailey felt it sliding away, receding with reality as the deep

pleasure-pain of his possession wiped everything else from her mind.

In one hard stroke he buried himself inside her. His cock throbbed inside the

clasp of her clenching pussy. Flexing and pounding in rhythm to their shattered

breaths, she nearly came at the feel of it. Nearly. Not quite. She was desperate to

come. She could feel her orgasm hovering just out of reach as her nails bit into his

wrists and her hips writhed beneath him.

“Hell, we’ve had it now,” he panted. “Son of a bitch, Bailey.”

Her lashes lifted until she could stare into his eyes. The deep gray was nearly

black. His face was flushed, his lips swollen and damp. He looked like a sex god

rising between her thighs, determined to possess her soul.