“You wouldn’t respect me in the morning if I didn’t check on your story, any more than I’d respect you if you hadn’t listened at the window.” His gaze lowered, lingering on her full kissable lips he wanted pressed to his, before lifting. “Find out anything interesting?”

“Whoever you called wasn’t Mendez.”

“You would have chased me out the door with the gun if you’d have thought I was calling Mendez.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeated, his lips twitching.

She shoved him. “Must you always crowd me?”

“Yes.”

She glared. “I didn’t shoot you this time, Blake, but if you try to shut me out of the cover I’ve worked long and hard to develop, I will.”

Damn, she was hot when she was pissed. “Is that right?”

“Try me.”

Blake stared down at her, the fire licking at his limbs at her challenge, telling himself not to act, not to do what he burned to do, before he cursed, and did it anyway. Tunneling his fingers into her hair, he dragged her mouth to his and said, “I will,” before he kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers, with a hot, demanding slide of his tongue that demanded her response and told her who was in control. And it wasn’t her. It was impossible for him to keep his hands off of her.

Kara moaned into his mouth, her body softening against his, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her submission should have been enough. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough with this woman, which was exactly why this had to be it. This last taste of pleasure, before he got her the hell away from him, where she couldn’t distract him from killing Alvarez.

One of his hands slid from her face to her breast, caressing her, teasing her nipple. She arched into his touch and tugged at his shirt, trying to press her fingers beneath it. Blake shackled her wrists and pushed her hands to the couch behind her. “Keep them there,” he ordered.

She glared up at him, her lashes heavy; her lips swollen from his kisses. “Not a chance in hell that’s happening. You want to touch me, I’m damn sure touching you.”

His cock thickened, his anger magnified. He leaned in and nipped her lip. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“You’re right,” she assured him. “It’s not. You want a woman you can control, and she’s not me. Not in bed or out.”

“We’ll see about that.” He turned her to face the couch, forcing her to press her hands to the cushions.

“Blake—” She moaned as he palmed her breasts, his thick erection nestling against her delectable little backside.

He leaned in near her ear, drawing her sweet floral scent into his nostrils, and pinching one of her nipples as he whispered, “We’re doing this my way.”