of his hands locked in her hair sparked even more passion within her and motivated her to use her mouth in ways she’d never done before.
“Swan!”
She felt his thighs flex beneath her hands before he bucked forward. She wasn’t prepared when he quickly switched their positions so that she was the one on her back. The blue eyes staring down at her flared with a passion that sent tremors through her.
Before she could whisper his name, he slid inside her. He kept going deeper and deeper, stretching her in ways she didn’t know she could be spread, inch by inch.
“Wrap your legs around me, baby,” he whispered in a throaty voice.
When she did as he asked, he began thrusting hard. It was as if his total concentration was on her, intent on giving her pleasure. She felt every inch of him as he rode her hard, not letting up.
“David!”
She screamed his name as he continued to make love to her, throwing her into a euphoric state that seemed endless. He was using her legs to keep their bodies locked while relentlessly pounding into her. Her world was spinning and she couldn’t control the need to moan, moan and moan some more.
She was unable to hold anything back when her body erupted into an orgasm so powerful it propelled her toward utter completeness. She screamed his name once again as a deep feeling of ecstasy ripped through her entire body.
* * *
Flipper eased off Swan to lie beside her. Pulling her into his arms, his nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of sex. The scent of woman, this woman. A woman he still desired even now.
He was not new to lust. Been there, done that and he figured he would be doing it some more. A lot more. With Swan lying in in his arms, snuggled close to him, close to his heart, he knew something had changed between them.
Bottom line, Swan Jamison was not only intoxicating, she was addictive.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to move again, David.”
A smile touched the corners of his lips. He definitely knew how she felt, but he knew he had to move. He had somewhere to be tonight and as sexually drained as he was, he intended to be there.
“Then don’t move. Just lie there. I’ll let myself out,” he said, reluctant to go, although he knew he must.
“You sure?” she asked in a lethargic voice.
“Positive. I’ll be back in the morning for the parade and then we have a date on Friday.”
“Yes. I’m going to need it. I’ll be working late Wednesday doing inventory. I probably won’t leave work until around ten.”
“With your worker’s help?”
“No. The cruise ship comes in Wednesday.”
He released her to ease out of bed and put on his clothes. “What does a cruise ship have to do with anything?” He could feel her gaze on his body. He couldn’t disguise the impact of knowing she was watching him. He was getting aroused all over again.
“Jamila dates a guy who works on the cruise ship and they only see each other whenever the ship comes to port. She always requests the day off to spend with him. I guess they made up.”
He had planned to check out Jamila’s house when he’d assumed she would be at work. Good thing he now knew otherwise.
“Made up?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head.
“Yes. I got the impression they weren’t on good terms last week. Not sure what happened but it’s all good now since they’ve apparently kissed and made up.”
He nodded. “How long have they been together?”
“About six months now.”
Flipper didn’t say anything as he continued dressing. There hadn’t been any mention of a boyfriend for Jamila Fairchild in the report he’d read. Another discrepancy. There were too many inconsistencies for his liking and he was determined to find out why. One thing was certain, he didn’t like the idea of Swan being at her shop alone late at night.
He moved back to the bed, leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Looking forward to it.”
He smiled down at her and then turned and left.
* * *
Later that night, Flipper, dressed all in black, moved in the shadows, careful to avoid streetlights and security cameras. He had scoped out the area and was familiar with where the cameras were located. More than once, he’d had to dart behind a shrub when people were out for a late-night stroll.
He reached the area where Swan’s shop was located and when he heard voices, he darted behind a building to hide in the shadows.
Two men stood not far away. One of them was Rafe. Neither of the men saw Flipper. The other guy was a little taller and appeared to be a foreigner. Their conversation sounded like an argument and was in a language Flipper wasn’t familiar with and he spoke four. Most SEALs spoke at least that many, except for Coop, who had mastered seven.
When the men lapsed into English, they lowered their voices and could barely be heard. Flipper did make out the words ink and roses. Was someone getting a tattoo of roses painted on their body? If so, did it mean anything?
Flipper was glad when the men finally moved on. More than ever, he was determined to check out the tattoo parlor. He waited a half hour to make sure the men didn’t return. When he was certain they had gone, he went to work bypassing the security alarms and cameras.
Using a sort of skeleton key, he opened the back door and walked inside the tattoo parlor. Using night goggles, he glanced around.
The place looked like a typical tattoo parlor. He should know since he and his brothers had frequented a number of them. He was proud of the images on his body. Luckily, Swan hadn’t asked him about them. He was glad because the last thing he wanted to do was lie about why he was into dolphins.
Pulling off the camera attached to his utility belt, he replaced the night goggles with a high-tech camera, which was his own creation. This particular piece of equipment detected objects underground and under water. Looking through the lens, he scanned the room. It wasn’t long before the camera light began blinking.
He moved toward the area and aimed the camera lower, toward the floor, and the blinking increased. Evidently something was buried beneath the wooden floor, a portion covered by a rug. The architectural report he’d been given of Swan’s shop had not exposed any secret rooms or closets.
Putting the camera aside, he moved the rug and felt around to find a latch. He opened the trapdoor to find a small compartment beneath the floor. He saw more containers of ink. Why? There was a supply case full of ink on the opposite side of the room. Why was this ink hidden?
The first thing he noticed was the difference in the labeling. Was there something different about this particular ink? There was only one way to find out, he thought, taking one out of the cubby. He would overnight
