Don't you dare to move 🔞

It was past midnight when Miguel parked the truck in front of the cabin. He’d considered spending the night at the Four Winds; Edison had even offered rooms for both him and Bella.

But Miguel had wanted to spend his last night sweet in the mountains. His next assignment would be a grueling three months, living in a one-bedroom apartment with two other men.

It was going to be a long time before he’d see a pine tree or lake again, and he wanted to savor the last few hours he had left up here.

He glanced over at Bella, saw her staring wistfully out the truck window at the lake. A full moon shone down from a clear, star-filled sky and cast silver sparkles over the water.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

You’re beautiful, he thought. Moonlight washed over her face, emphasized the delicate curve of her cheek and jaw. Several golden curls tumbled loose from their pins and spilled onto her long neck. He ached to bury his hands into those silken strands, to taste her one last time.

Clenching his jaw, he got out of the truck and came around to open her door. She stepped out, and his gaze followed the slender curve of one leg, from her ankle all the way up to the hem of her dress, which had risen dangerously high on her smooth thighs as she slid from the seat.

She didn't change her body, just as sexy as it was but just
He nearly moaned at the sight, and knew it was going to be a long night.

A chivalrous man would have offered his hand and helped her across the gravel walkway, but he was feeling anything but chivalrous at the moment. What he felt bordered on something closer to savage.

He heard the crunch of gravel as she trailed behind him, unsteady in her heels as she picked her way to the porch. The scent of pine filled the warm night air, and a chorus of frogs and crickets echoed off the lake.

Miguel opened the door and held it for Bella, but she shook her head as she leaned against the porch rail and pulled off her shoes. “You go on. I think I’ll stay out here a little while.”

“I’ll just say good-night, then.”

“Good-night.”

Turning, he stepped into the darkness of the cabin, barely able to control the urge to kick something.

“Miguel?”

“What?” He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but he had. When he glanced back over his shoulder at her, she stood facing him, a silhouette in the moonlight.

“Thank you for forgiving me and accepting me. I had a nice time.” She hesitated, and he saw her shoulders rise and fall with her sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bother to you, but I’m not sorry, I'll always spy on you, even in your grave"

He couldn’t help but smile. “That was my favorite part. I love it when you spy on me"

“Is that so?” She pointed one high heel at him, and he was glad it wasn’t loaded. “Mine was the day we shared our first kiss as a couple. Remember at Emerald Villa. The marriage certificate is still gonna be at our family house at Liverpool"

“We don't need a marriage certificate anymore. I'm no longer the boss of Agatha, no need of a marriage certificate to keep us tied,” he added.

She laughed softly and shook her head, but remembering that night, and what had happened, took their light banter into another direction entirely, turned the mood into something completely different.

It felt as if the night air were suddenly pressing in on him, cutting off his breath, as if a steel band were closing around his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.

He knew he had to leave. Now.

“Good-night, My Spy.”

“Good-night, Grandpa's son.”

He made it to the doorway, then stopped. And turned back around to face her.

Her arms were at her sides, each hand holding a shoe. Her green silk dress shimmered in the moonlight, hugged her slender body like a second skin. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was watching him. Waiting.

He moved slowly toward her, stopped inches away and stared down at her.

Somewhere, in the distance, a lone coyote howled.

“Bella,” he whispered her name, heard the anguish in his own voice.

She sighed, lifted her face to his. “I know, Miguel.”

He reached out, touched her cheek with his fingertips. Her skin was so soft, so smooth. How he wanted this woman. Like he’d never wanted another woman before. The desperation he felt frightened as much as it angered.

“This won’t change anything,” he said tightly. “You're still my wife, even if you look like a monkey"

The shoes she held dropped to the porch. Her eyes closed as she pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand. “Just kiss me, Miguel,” she whispered. “Please.”

Her quiet plea snapped the last of his control. He felt the low, strangled moan deep in his throat as he caught her mouth with his. She opened to him, met the forceful thrust of his tongue with her own velvet heat. Her arms wound around his shoulders and she clung to him, kissed him back with a passion that he’d known was there all along.

She tasted like chocolate and mint, a heady combination that had him deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him, frantic to have her closer. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest, made his blood race and his heart pound.

Lifting her off her feet, he carried her inside. His mouth never left hers as he kicked the door closed, then pressed her back against the smooth, hard wood.

The hunger for her gripped him painfully. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, and she answered, sliding her body sensually, erotically against his in a rhythm that matched the thrust of his tongue.

“Touch me,” she demanded on a ragged breath. “I need your hands on me. Everywhere.”

Her words inflamed him, seared his blood and pounded through his body. “Don’t worry about that, darlin’,” he said roughly, wanting nothing more than to do exactly as she asked, frustrated that he couldn’t touch her everywhere at once.

He slid her dress upward, and she gasped when he slipped his hands underneath. Her stockings ended at the tops of her thighs, held there by a band of lace and satin. The separation between cool silk and warm skin fascinated as much as it excited.

He pressed her firmly against the wall, slid his hands around her buttocks as he lifted her off the floor. He felt the soft texture of her lace panties under his rough fingers. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did as he asked, tightening her arms around his neck as she wound her long, sleek legs around his waist. Their bodies pressed intimately together, his arousal nestled firmly between her legs. On a moan, her head fell back against the door, and he nuzzled her ear while he slipped the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders.

Moonlight spilled in from the windows, casting a silver glow over the room. He could hear the distant hum of the refrigerator and the sound of their own heavy breathing.

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.” He felt her shudder when he nipped at her neck. “I thought I’d go crazy if I didn’t have you.”

“You have me.” She sucked in a breath when his mouth moved downward to the soft swell of her breast. Her fingers raked through his hair. “You have me,” she repeated, her voice hoarse and uneven.

Her surrender pleasured him on a masculine level as much as it did the physical. He wanted to possess this woman completely. Her mind, her body, even her soul. If only for this night, he wanted—needed—her to be his alone.

Because it was difficult to t
hink, Bella simply let herself feel. The sensations hammered her: his callused hands on her skin, his hot mouth on her breast, the hard ridge of his arousal rocking between her legs.

The tension coiled inside her, tighter, then tighter still, and she wondered if it were truly possible to die from the need burning inside her.

When he nuzzled the silk neckline of her dress lower and clamped onto her nipple through the thin white lace of her strapless bra, she cried out and was certain that a person could in fact die from this much pleasure.

“Miguel.” She buried her fingers in his hair. “Please.”

His mouth swooped back to hers, and he folded her in his arms, carried her into the bedroom. They made the long, dangerous fall to the bed together, rolled in each other’s arms until he lay under her.

“Now I’ve got you where I want you, Rodriguez,” she said in a breathless tease. “Don’t you dare move.”

The bedroom was bright with moonlight, and she could see him clearly.

She straddled him, reached for the zipper at the back of her dress while keeping her gaze steady with his. His expression was fierce, his eyes narrowed and dark as he watched her.

She pulled the dress slowly over her head, let the silk slide soundlessly from her hand into a pool at the foot of the bed.

“Your hair,” he murmured. “I want it down.”

Lifting her arms, she tugged the pins loose and let her hair fall in a tumbled mass around her shoulders. With her eyes still locked to his, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. It fell to the floor with her dress.

His chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at her. His face was like granite, his eyes smoldered. He started to reach for her, but she smiled softly and shook her head.

“Didn’t I tell you not to move?” she reprimanded and pushed his hands back to his sides. “Now be still.”

She started with the top button of his shirt, slowly worked her way down to the waistband of his trousers before sliding her hands back up again over his flat, hard stomach and broad, muscled chest

His body was like liquid steel, a warrior’s body. Strong and powerful. Rugged. The realization that he was hers, completely hers, ga
ve her a sense of power she’d never known before, made her brave and daring.

A Mafia's woman, she thought with a smile.