The Spy Who Loved Him by Merline Lovelace

Author:Merline Lovelace [Lovelace, Merline]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: suspense
ISBN: 9781426868269
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2001-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

"I'm sorry."

The husky apology dragged Margarita from her semi-stupor. Lifting heavy lids, she blinked at the whisker-roughened face mere inches from her own.

"Why?"

"I shouldn't have…I've never…" Disgust rippled over his features. "I've never lost control like that."

She didn't have the heart to tell him she would have torn out his liver with her bare hands if he'd held back another moment.

"Did I hurt you, Rita?"

"No," she whispered, her voice still raw from the cries that had ripped from her throat.

He rolled off her, his body as taut as hers was limp. "The next time will be better."

Margarita's mind boggled at the thought. She couldn't imagine anything better. She was about to ask if he was serious when the sight of his tight buns trapped the words in her throat.

They were lean and muscular and only a shade less coppery than the rest of him. She was trying to imagine how he'd managed that all-over tan when he scooped up his clothes and shook them a couple times to dislodge any relatives of the now-deceased slug rat.

"The next time we make love, it will be in a bed," he promised grimly, yanking on his pants.

That warning bell in Margarita's mind started pinging again. She hadn't even recovered from this cataclysmic encounter and already he was talking about the next. Disconcerted, she reached for the fatigue shirt and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

"We'll take it slow," he vowed as he tugged on his black T-shirt. "So slow and sweet you'll want to die of it."

"I came pretty close to rigor mortis this time."

He didn't appear to appreciate her flippancy. If anything, the tight cast to his face grew more pronounced as he pulled on his socks and boots.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," she said with what she hoped was a bright smile. She pushed to her feet, determined to defuse what was becoming a decidedly awkward moment. "We still have several miles of jungle to get through before we talk about what happens when we're out of it."

He shot her a swift look. Her stomach sinking, Margarita saw centuries of proud Madrileñan male in the rigid set of his jaw.

"I'm not some penniless cane cutter or rummed-up sailor off a foreign ship. I won't rut with you in the dirt, hitch up my pants and go contentedly on my way."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Exasperated, she raked a hand through her tangled hair. "This is the twenty-first century, you know. We don't have to set up housekeeping together just because we made love once."

"Once?" Cool, sophisticated Carlos made a distinctly rude sound. "If you think either of us will stop at once, you're even more rattled than I am at this point."

He had that right. From the moment that rat had crawled onto her shoulder, Margarita had plunged from one wild emotion to another. Fear for herself. Terror for Carlos. Joyous relief. Searing lust. And something deeper, something she couldn't define yet, even to herself. She needed time to sort through the tumult.

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