One Wild Wedding Night

Bridget’s doughnut had been coated with cinnamon sugar. Now Dean’s chest…and his lap…were covered with tiny bits of the spice, all of which she intended to lick off him. “So do you.”

“You know we can’t do this again, right?” he mumbled as he kissed his way across her chest. He pushed her onto her back on the rug, looking down at her with rueful sorrow. In the morning light, with his shaggy hair and the lazy, well-satisfied expression in his eyes, he looked every bit like the guy she’d cared so much for a few months ago. As well as the lover she’d fallen head over heels for the previous night.

“Maybe not that. But I think we already did this,” she mumbled, moving her mouth down his body in search of cinnamon.

And they definitely had. During the night, when they’d awakened, warm and relaxed in front of the fire, they’d both instinctively wanted more. Without protection, they’d found other ways to pleasure each other. Amazing ways.

But she wanted him inside her again. “Don’t you think…”

“No.” He pulled away and rose to his feet, as if not trusting himself. “Once was reckless, twice is stupid.”

Bridget couldn’t help sucking in a breath at the sight of him, big and male, fully erect. Yum.

“I’m going to get dressed, drive back to that store and buy a fresh box of condoms off the shelves.” Anticipating her next comment, he added, “And I’ve gotten over my urge to punch the clerk.” He smiled wickedly. “I have to admit I liked what we were forced to do last night.”

Oh, yes, so had she. But she still frowned. “That’ll take an hour. And they might be as stale as the ones in the machine.”

He smiled as he pulled his trousers over his naked form, zipping them carefully over his engorged sex. “Then I’ll drive to the next town.” Reaching down to cup her cheek, he added, “Just be waiting right here, like that, when I get back.”

And she was. She didn’t remain in that exact spot during the ninety minutes he was gone. Taking advantage of the privacy, she washed up and brushed her teeth, then laid herself back down like some virgin being offered up to a ravenous sex God.

But the ravenous sex God wasn’t the one who walked through the door a short time later. As soon as she saw the tightness of his shoulders and the frown on his handsome face, Bridget knew who’d returned. Not the nice salesman. Not the erotic lover.

She was once again in the company of Special Agent Willis.

“What happened?” she asked, sitting up. She grabbed the blanket they’d used during the night and covered herself, feeling awkward when before she’d felt completely free and uninhibited.

“I got within cell phone range of my partner.”

Bridget closed her eyes and began to shake her head.

“It looks like everything’s fine.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. “What?”

“When they realized you weren’t going to be that easy a target, Marty’s former drug buddies made a move on Marty’s wife, figuring that would shut him up for good.”

Bridget gasped. Marty’s wife was a nice lady. Stupid to stick with an icky criminal with a bad toupee, but nice.

“She’s okay. They caught the guy. He’s talking, as is Marty. He was so angry they went after his family, he offered to cooperate fully.”

Meaning… “I don’t have to testify.”

He met her eye and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.” Walking across the room, he squatted down beside her and lifted a hand to her cheek. “Thank God.”

He looked truly relieved about that—yet his mood remained somber. When he spoke again, she understood why. “So there’s no need to remain here. You can go back to your life.” Cocking a brow and sighing, he added, “And I should get to the office.”

“Why?” Then understanding washed over her. “You weren’t supposed to grab me, were you.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.”

“And you’re in trouble?”

“As I told my boss when I called in, I don’t care.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “How did he respond?”

Another shrug. “We had words.”

“Serious ones?”

“I told him to go screw himself.”

“Oh, boy,” Bridget mumbled, lifting a hand to her brow.

“I did say with all due respect first,” he added, as if that made everything better. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “He didn’t handle this thing by the book, either, using you for bait. And if my head rolls, so does his.” As if he’d said as much as he was going to say on the matter, he reached for her dress and handed it to her. “Now, we should get ready. I’m sure your family’s worried.”

“You mean you want to leave? Now?” she asked, so startled she didn’t dwell on the using-you-for-bait comment.

He thrust a hand through his hair. “It’s time to leave. You said yourself this was a one-shot thing, a physical escape from reality by two people stuck together for a few days.”

Bridget blinked rapidly, shocked that he was so ready to end their incredible interlude. Then again, that interlude had only happened because he’d been protecting her—even against his own self-interests. Now that the danger was apparently finished, he was ready to return her to her real world and go back to his. With no looking back at the few hours they’d shared here.

“I kidnapped you. You had no choice.”

Oh, she’d had a choice, at least as far as their lovemaking went. How could he not see that? Because she certainly did.

And she wanted more. Was it possible he didn’t feel the same way, even after the incredible things they’d shared?

She wanted to ask him, but the words wouldn’t come. Dean was already loading up their few things and carrying them out to his SUV, as if not trusting himself to continue the conversation. The quieter he got, the heavier her heart grew. He meant it. He was taking her home, whether she liked it or not.