Risk the Night by Stuart Anne

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Suspense, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Anne Stuart
Published: 2013-01-30T08:00:00+00:00

He could have had her. Constantine knew if he’d pushed it he could have had her a dozen times, including on the back seat of the limo while Tessa slept on. He’d considered shoving her up against her door, pulling up her vintage Balenciaga and fucking her senseless. He’d seen the digital recorder in her purse, and she would have dropped it as she was caught up in the fury he knew he could inspire in her. Knew, because he was feeling that same rage, a maelstrom of need that threatened to burn him up.

He was semi-erect and he didn’t give a damn if it showed, though the chauffeur, who was gay, was much too polite to gaze at his employer’s boyfriend’s crotch. And Tessa was too spaced to be aware of anything.

The smart thing to do was take her home, close his eyes and screw the hell out of her while she dreamed, only half awake, picturing Madison Banks’s ripe, creamy flesh instead of the bony mass beneath him. The loose dress had exposed Madison’s shoulders and the tops of her breasts, and he’d been enchanted, mesmerized, in love in the best possible way. A fantasy he could dismiss with a snap of his fingers, but a lush one while it lasted.

That was, if he were smart.

Right then he wasn’t feeling smart. He’d killed two men today. He’d told an inquisitive reporter too much of the truth and too many lies as well, and allowed her to record it. There were people skilled enough to hack their way through the voice distortion, leaving him exposed.

No, he needed to retrieve that recorder. And smart or not, he needed to get inside Madison Banks and see if he could make her come as hard as he was planning to.

Simmons drove them home through the rain-damp streets, the lamplights reflecting off the water and sending strange shadows into the car. The chauffeur was driving fast, but there were no paparazzi following them. They were a bunch of pussies—give them a heavy rain and they’d rather spend their time in some bar, drinking, than chasing their meal tickets.

Just as well. He didn’t want cameras anywhere around him tonight. Not when he considered what he was planning to do.

He carried Tessa’s frail body into the back elevator used for the hotel’s more famous guests, up to her suite of rooms. He laid her down on the bed, stripping off her clothes. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and she didn’t own any nightclothes. He pulled the covers up to her chin, then brushed her hair out of her exquisite face. Her handlers would yell at her tomorrow for sleeping in her makeup, and she’d pout at him, and he’d enact the enraged lover and then there would be the tender rapprochement. He could play the part perfectly.

He brushed a kiss against her forehead, then stripped off his jacket, tie and vest and tossed them across a chair. For a brief moment he considered his work clothes

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