Not thinking, only feeling her curves, he blinked and found he had her against the wall. Pinned. Blood rushing to his cock, he pushed against her flat stomach. His mouth slanted over hers, then journeyed to her jaw, her ear. Kissing her neck. Sliding his tongue down her collarbone. The insane taste of her skin and the intoxicating smell of her hair consumed him. Pushed him to the brink of coming undone. Just couldn't think straight.

"Caterina, sweetheart. I need you." He throbbed, pulsing in place and dying to be inside her. Carnal need, raw and unabated, pulsed through him.

She nodded, breaths hitching. "Yes."

There was the job, then there was her. And the job was supposed to come first. Always. But with Caterina, it didn't.

"Thank God you said that." His hands ran over her, everywhere. Groping, feeling, caressing, owning. Fingers memorized her feel. The touch revved his senses. Tension fueled his lust, which was stronger than he'd ever experienced. More powerful and potent. It was a hunger. He wanted her. Thought about her. Avoided her. Fell to her. And now he was drowning in her. Caterina was his vulnerability, his thirst. One look. One shot. One taste. He was done.

"You're dangerous, Kitten." He could barely breathe for kissing her. "The devil himself couldn't make me stop right now.

She shimmied up his thighs. "I'm an angel. Don't know what you're talking about."

The room spun. Sounds crashed around him. But it wasn't a hallucination. No. This was different. Her voice echoed in his ears.

Angel. Angel.

Scary familiar. Rocco pinched his eyes closed. He came crashing down hard. Reality scratched at his perception. A hard and fast detox from a Caterina-fueled oblivion. "Angel?"

"What?" Her breaths were as uneven as he felt. "Rocco?"

He closed his eyes, flashing back. Carpet swirling. Walls melting. An angel by his side. God, he was losing his ever loving mind. "I can't..." do this.

Can't breathe.

Can't make sense of anything anymore.

"What." Her voice dripped over him, cold as ice. The what wasn't a question. More of a verbal slap in the face, and it stung. Caterina's legs dropped. Her cheeks pinked. From embarrassment or fury, he had no idea. Didn't matter because it took a serious dick move to make her react that way. She was a rock. Completely collected. Man, he was on fire today. One wrong move after another.

He stepped backward. "The job. I'm here for the job."

"Right." The word was a brutal jab.

But he deserved it. "I'm..." losing my grip. Reliving daydreams. Or nightmares. He rubbed his eyes. "Jet lag or something. It's been a crazy couple of days, and my head's bothering me-"

Alarm registered in her eyes. "Your head?"

"I'm..." Unable to complete thoughts... Making moves that I can't cash in... Acting like a bitch-ass pansy. Or, all of the above.

She smoothed the front of her shirt, unintentionally drawing attention to her killer rack, and if he could've kneed himself in the nuts for pulling a stunt like this, he would've.

Caterina cleared her throat in a cute little way. "Fine. I'd really rather talk about El Mateperros anyway." Her pretty little lips lied to his face, and Rocco knew he would chalk this moment up to one of his biggest losses, ever.

Fuck. He shook his head. Now he was the embarrassed one, watching her try to make him feel better. "Bullshit, no need to make me feel better. Asshole move, I got nothing to say."

"Well, maybe." Her half-smile teased him, and she almost looked shy. Almost.

"I'm going to pay for this one, aren't I?" Again he closed his eyes and shook his head, thanking God she was being a good sport about his major poor form. "Don't hurt me in my sleep."

"I won't." She made a cross over her heart. "Lo prometo."

"Look, we've been up forever. I'm dying to get to the ACG house, but I want to do it right. Let's call the night and hit it hard tomorrow?"

She was absolutely giving him an out. Despite what he wanted to do, he needed to take her up on that one. Mental exhaustion wouldn't help in the hunt for the Dog Killer.

She grabbed some clothes from the dresser. "I'm going to jump in the shower, then we can go to bed. Get some sleep. I promise, you'll wake up in the morning and feel so much better."

As Cat walked to the bathroom, all he could picture was the shower-steamed mirror. Hope you feel better, Handsome. And he'd never been more excited to crawl in bed and just sleep next to a woman.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Eyes still shut, Caterina yawned and rolled over in the sea of blankets. Solid man surrounded her. She was tucked under his arm, wedged against his side, and he smelled like heaven. It'd been too long since she'd woken up next to a man. Well, that wasn't true. She'd spent more than a few nights camped out at random covert locations around the world. But knapsacks and a team of black ops dudes didn't count. They were always on the job. She was never interested in them. Plus they knew she could castrate them with a piece of dental floss, so they stayed away. Smart.

All that time spent on knapsacks near stinking men taught her that Rocco wasn't sleeping. She knew it without opening her eyes. How long had he been awake? Carefully, she blinked. His chest was bare. A huge bicep acted as her pillow, and he was watching her. "Morning, sunshine."

As soon as her head had hit the pillow the night before, she'd been lights out, which was a miracle because he had her worked up and ready to explode. A little talk about his head bothering him had taken her down a notch. Yes, she worried about him. But how on earth did she miss out on a moment like Rocco heading to the shower after she got out, then crawling in bed with her? There was no excuse for missing out on that show.

"It's almost nine in the morning. You always such a late riser?" Rocco's voice sounded whiskey rough.

Closing her eyes again, she let it rumble over her. "I wouldn't have killed you if you got up early and made a coffee run."

"Done and done."

"Wait. What?" She propped up on her elbow, her eyes tracing the pinkish scar on his chest, wondering how someone so tough was so considerate. "You got out of bed? Left, then got back in bed?"

"Yeah. You sleep like the dead. Coffee's in the kitchenette."

"Why?" No one ever got her coffee. True, most times there wasn't some place to grab any, but there was always a coffee maker somewhere. Or Instant and some water.

"Why, what?"

"Why would you do that? It's so..."

"Nice? I'm a nice guy. Sometimes." He had her on her back before she could blink. "Yesterday sucked big, hairy monkey balls. Forget about it. Okay?"

"Big hairy monkey balls do nothing to get me naked."

He half-cocked a smile, and his dimple waved at her. "Yesterday sucked. Erase it from your memory."

His forearms were on either side of her head, and his eyes were inches from hers. When he spoke, the words tickled her lips. Heat raced through her. His erection pushed against her as he fell into place between her legs. What she would do for her skin to be bare. To feel him like this against her. All that male beauty made her crazy enough to beg.

"Okay." She nodded, embracing her swirling emotions. Too fast. Too soon. So right. So now. Even after the stunts he'd pulled, her need for him was desperate, and if he didn't touch her soon, she was likely to hurt him.

"We're starting over." The morning roughness still scratched his voice no matter how long he'd been awake. He shifted his weight, and his shorts-covered length rubbed her pajama pants. They had on far too many clothes. She wanted to say something about that, but pure desire colored his expression, such a dominant stare, a face used to giving orders. No doubt he'd take care of that issue on the quick. Adrenaline pulsed in her veins, rushing in her neck, tightening her chest. Need throbbed in her core. She angled so that their friction would torture her in the best of ways. She'd never wanted to be touched more than she did in that moment.

Wait. "Rocco." She lifted her hips, arching into him. Her body and her mind were having a stop-go disagreement. "You're okay?"

"Don't ask me that again, and I'll be fine."

They were a go.

He crashed full lips onto hers, picking up where they'd left off the night before. Suckling her mouth. Revving her from sleeping to sexy with the speed of a morning kiss. Hunger ravaged her. Blinded her. All she could do was feel his hard body and crave every minute caress she could glean.

She nodded, her bottom lip dragging over his. "I won't say another word. Totally silent."

Rocco tore her shirt straight down the middle. Its fabric ripped, and the sound echoed in her ears. He chuckled, cavern deep. "I didn't say that."

He devoured her neck. His massive hand cupped her breast, thumb toying with her nipple and sending a whirlwind of sensation cycloning from the tip to the farthest reaches of her nervous system. Every nerve. Every synapse. They danced and fired and shouted in insane excitement.

"I want to hear you. Feel you. That hot little attitude of yours, I'm dying for it to come out and play."

"Por supuesto." Of course.

"Don't know what you said, Kitten. But damn, that's hot."

Nothing about this was sweet. It was rough, and it was what she wanted. Rough hands. Rough mouth. Rough can't-get-enough-of-you sex.

She arched off the bed, and his kisses trailed to her other mound. He sucked deep into his mouth, rolling his tongue and growling. An earthquake of reactions nearly blew her mind. Skin shivering. Pussy begging. Mind tumbling so fast and hard for Rocco that she didn't know which way was like and which way was lust.

"Roc." They were moving fast, exchanging real rings with pretend meanings, but she'd take it. His hips flexed, and she met his move. "Take your shorts off."

"You first, Kitten." His lips tickled her nipple. Gasoline to her fire.

His hips shifted, and her body's begging and pleading magnified. She shucked her pants, grabbing his along the way. Made her giggle, made him smile. Made for the perfect moment.

They were naked. Tangled. Hot flesh and wild need. The stalk of his erection was far past impressive, hot and in her hand. She stroked her fingers down to his balls, letting her other hand trail.

"First time I saw you, I wanted this," he growled.

She nodded because she was choking down the same thoughts and so much more, scared it would make him run. Again. And then she might kill him.

He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand drawer, found a condom, and slid it on.

Smoothing his hands over her folds, he teased the nub of nerves with a stroke of his knuckles. "You are so damn sweet."

Why sweet? She was anything but. Hard-shelled. Hot-headed. And when he looked at her like that, touched her without slamming into her, Caterina believed him. They would do both wild and unrestrained, but they could rock a moment that might just qualify as special. He ran both hands down her thigh, cupping behind her knee and angling it, dragging the heel of her foot back. Rocco leaned over and kissed the knee, sliding her other leg up.

Exposed to him, she fought for contact, but Rocco simply slid his hands down her thighs, watching her face. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Heat flooded her face.

"You don't think you're all that sweet, do ya, Kitten?"

"I have my moments."

He laughed and she grabbed him around his neck, pulling close, chest to chest. One of his hands clamped to her bottom, squeezing the cheek, making her back buck. The hot steel of his cock positioned, pushing and parting. Her nerve endings screamed, and spectacular sensations wicked from her core to her clit.

"Sweet, sweet." He buried his face into her neck, biting and scratching her skin while he stretched into her body, joining them.

Breaths stolen, her mind spinning, Caterina bit her bottom lip and let him take her. "Dios."

"That's my girl."

Her mouth parted. She moaned, "Rocco."

Pressure and perfect pain. It'd been so long since she'd felt this. She wanted to groan and growl, shout his name and beg him to fuck her, but it came out a desperate hush.

He paused. A ragged breath tore from his chest as he retracted only a fraction and eased into her again. Biceps crushed her to the wall of his rock hard stomach.

She forgot the world in his strength. "I need this."

"I need you."

Vibrations buzzed across her skin, and she rocked her hips, rubbing herself against him and experiencing every thick thrust. She came alive for him. Slickness coated his shaft, her juices heightening the sensations. Her mind memorized the deepness in his eyes, the concentration and determination playing across his features.

They locked eyes, and vicious tension clawed just beneath her skin. She nodded, agreeing. And that was it. He dropped her back against the mattress, diving deeper into her sex, filling her when she thought fullness had long been achieved. Caterina pushed her head back, moaning as Rocco thundered into her. Her body flowed with him. They were a frenzied mix of penetrating, panting, cursing, and crying out for more. Relief and release seemed too far away. He pulled back, on his knees, grabbing her legs and spreading her wider. The dedication in his jaw was too powerful not to notice.

He lifted her ass off the bed, shoved a pillow behind her tail bone without missing his stride, and-oh hell, that angle...

She cried his name. Sucked in oxygen and savored the passion, the picture, everything before her. His chest was massive. Defined. His broad shoulders were enough to support a tank. Taut skin covered perfect abs. Sculpted. Muscles bunched and corded. Rocco thrust into her again, deeper, until possession was no longer a question.

"Yes," she ground out the word, ready to repeat the truth. Sweet bliss started. Thinking about him, them, this...that would make her come.

"Caterina." He sucked her name through his clenched teeth.

She didn't recognize herself. Losing control had never happened, but now it was. Rocco met her stroke for stroke. The bastard would kill her with pleasure, she was sure of it, but she'd die happy. This was too good to just do once. She'd live to fall in bed with him again. It was a promise to herself.

"Roc." She couldn't catch her breath. Didn't want to try. Breathing was for wimps. This was the major leagues, and if she was going to survive, it had nothing to do with oxygen. "Help me." Breath. "Hold me. Push me over the edge."

His jaw worked. Resolve painted across his face. Sweat beaded on his forehead as her juices wept from her, coating both of them.

"So close." Her fingernails ripped into the sheets.

His hips pistoned, driving until she couldn't see. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes, between her thighs. Her muscles tightened until...she combusted, rippling over his cock. Pulsing. Tensing. Extraordinary flashes of satisfaction blew through her veins, and when she thought it wouldn't last another second, when she was too sensitive to be touched, Rocco slowed his roll and kissed her through the amazing intensity. His head rolled to the side, dropped back, then he inhaled, expanding his chest wider than she thought possible. Slowly, he brought his gaze back to her and lowered himself down, his face mere inches from hers. "I need you close to me."

She nodded; she might've been crying, might've been cursing. She didn't know what she was doing.

"Let me hold you close." The tinge of sadness in his voice brought her back to his arms.

Her heart clenched. There was something about that gravelly, forsaken sound. "Rocco?"

He shushed her with a kiss. Soft, again. Back to where they'd started. He was wounded, though he'd never tell. Required loving and caring, but he'd never ask. She knew that about him, just like she'd known who he was when she first set eyes on him on that bench weeks ago. And right now, she knew that the couldn't-wait-another-second frenzy had morphed into a couldn't-crave-you-more-than-now dance.