Save That for Wedding Night Nikita Mirzani 5

“Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that yet. The L-word, I mean. But it’s true, dammit, and I won’t take it back. I love you. I want to marry you. And I’m making a total fucking mess of this conversation!” He slammed his hand against the wheel. “Fuck!”

They were pulling into the hotel. Zack turned toward the parking structure. Nikita Mirzani put her hand on his arm and said, “Valet. Now.” He whipped the wheel to the left and into the circle in front of the main entrance. She released her seat belt, braced her hand on his thigh, and leaned over him until her lips were just above his.

“I love you, too. Yes, I’ll marry you. I’m out of my fucking mind, but it’s true, and I’m scared to death. Take me upstairs and make love to me until I’m not afraid anymore.”

She fell back in the seat, shaking like a leaf. If she looked anything like he did, the valet was getting one hell of an education in what “deer in the headlights” looked like.

“Fair enough,” he choked. And tripped trying to get out of the car without taking his seatbelt off.

She don’t remember getting to the elevator. She was in his arms when the door closed, their tongues tangling coffee and mint-laced kisses as he ground his erection into her belly.

“Security cameras,” Zack gasped as he came up for air.

Nikita Mirzani wrapped her leg around him, the wet silk of her dress rubbing against her pussy. “Don’t care.” Then they were kissing again.

The bell dinged and he broke free, panting as the elevator door opened. He pulled her down the empty hall, pressing her against the wall as he slid the keycard through the slot. Suddenly his hand was beneath the back of his jacket, the butt of a gun showing at his waist.

“Wait here.” He ducked quickly inside, scanning the room, checking the bathroom and under the bed before he pulled her in behind him. Then he shoved the door closed and threw all the locks.

“What the hell is your job!” She demanded. She was shocked to realize she didn’t really care. She just wanted to know.

“FBI, fifteen years,” he growled, tearing his jacket off, throwing it onto the nightstand. He stripped off the weapon harness, checked the safety, and tossed it down on his jacket. “Are you okay with that?”

“It’s better than blowing up crap in the desert,” She sighed. “I’ll still worry. Are you okay with that?”

“Yup. I’m not doing as much field work these days. I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. It’s a lot more than we could, back then.”

Zack was looking out the window, still breathing hard, his gaze calculating. He pulled a straight-backed chair out from the desk and set it in front of the window. Nikita Mirzani have no idea where the condom came from, but there was one on the seat of the chair. He turned on a low light in front of the window and held out his hand to her.

“I want to see you this first time. Really see you. Are you okay with that?”

She nodded, reaching for the zipper at the side of her dress.

“Leave it.”

She quirked her eyebrow at him, but she left her dress zipped and walked over to take his hands. The glow from the light turned the glass doors to the balcony into quasi-mirrors, reflecting the room while still letting in the twinkling lights from the marina in the darkness below.

Zack slid his fingers up her arms, then he was holding her head to his, his kisses hungry now, still soft but with an underlying desperation that had her quickly running her tongue over the insides of his lips. When she sucked his tongue, he groaned, his hard-on so stiff against her she felt her juices trickling down her thigh.

“Undo my pants,” he growled, one hand sliding down to cup her breast. As she tugged his zipper down, the side of her dress parted. His hand was against her bare skin, stroking a trail of fire. His belt clunked to the floor, and his bare hip was against her hand. No underwear. She hadn’t expected any.

“I can’t wait,” he growled against her lips.

“Now,” She panted. “Hurry.” She reached for the condom and met his hand.

“I’ll do it. If you touch me, I’ll come.”

He stepped out of his pants and sheathed himself, breaking the kiss again to move in back of her. He sat and pulled her to straddle him, her back to his chest, her thighs spread wide over his, the open slit in her panties exposed. Her skirt fell between them as he lowered her onto his lap.

“We have a problem,” Nikita Mirzani laughed breathlessly.

“No problem,” Zack panted. The silk of her skirt rasped against her pussy lips as he ground her against the hot flesh of his erection. His groan was long and loud.

She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him lowering the top of her dress, of him lifting her breasts out of their confinement to rest on top of the blasted Wonderbra, the cool air helping his talented fingers tease her nipples to rock-hard peaks.

“Look at the window.”

Oh, my God. Their full-length reflections gazed back at them from the long sheet of glass. Her head rested against Zack’s shoulder, his face visible next to hers, her chest arched forward displaying her bare breasts where he toyed with her nipples.

She balanced on her heels as his other hand slowly teased her skirt up, over her thighs, over the tops of her stockings. Higher.