Rocco's chest pressed against hers. A fine mist of sweat kissed their skin. Her legs wrapped around him, then her arms did the same, hugging and holding onto all the power and strength that made him loom so large. His hips rocked her slowly over and over. The intense, overwhelming fullness short circuited her brain until all she could think, see, and believe in was them. Her tongue explored his skin. His saltiness seared her taste buds, and the sweetness of the man holding her stole her heart.

"Damn, you are amazing," he whispered into her ear.

Amazing?

Her? Not really.

Them? Absolutely.

His body swallowed hers; his embrace all-consuming, so powerful and delicate. Easing and penetrating, slow and steady, thrusts that made her mind desperate for their interlude to both last for hours and demand relief, again.

"Roc." Shivers swirled over her sweat-dampened skin. All she could do was repeat his name. And beg.

"What do you want, Kitten? Tell me what you need." His teeth scratched her neck and chipped away at her sanity. Rough hands swayed over her back, cupped her ass. She could feel him all over.

"This. You." Their passion flooded her. "I want nothing more than you-" Handsome.

She almost said it. Almost did it again, where she showed her hand and told him the things she was keeping to herself. Like the tattoos.

His mouth took her, languidly. Tongues dancing and dueling. He kissed the side of her mouth, her cheek.

Drowning in his scent, succumbing to emotion she would never admit to, Caterina embraced another incoming climax, wanting nothing more than for him to come with her. Waves of pleasure hit them both. His hips surged. With spastic thrusts, he shuddered, holding her to him. A heavenly second of watching him completely lost in her was all she needed to come again. Lost in a dream of what a normal life could be, she memorized the feel of his arms and pretended he was her lover, not her partner. The idea was entirely too tempting.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Caterina fell back asleep in Rocco's arms. He scrubbed a hand over his head. Last night, she'd been asleep when he crawled into bed, and he'd stared for hours before somehow falling asleep. It was wrong not to tell her where he'd gone, what had happened to him yesterday, if for no other reason than he might endanger her life. A bad trip in the wrong location. Hell, any trip at an inopportune moment could get them both killed. Guilt was a wrecking ball. And he'd had the opportunity to walk out. He'd had the chance and intelligence not to strip her down and dive onto her naked body, but he had ignored reason.

Damn.

He rubbed his head again, scared to look down at her. It hadn't been all fast and hard, not at all, and that was some scary shit. Something between them rocked his sensibilities, making hot sex that could have been nothing more than an adrenaline-filled free for all into something he'd memorized. Every move, sound, sigh, and climax, was scored into his memory. He'd dragged it out because fucking her was insane. Goddamn, this was bad news. He liked it. A lot.

Get your game face on, man.

The internal pep talk didn't work.

Rocco sat up, tucking her against him, and grabbed his barely warm coffee off the nightstand. Dark, mussed hair covered the side of Caterina's face, and he moved a few strands to see her better. He'd let her sleep because if she woke, he'd talk to her about op jobs and torture tactics. About how Titan and whatever drove her to this line of work always came first. Cat was different. His job was the most important thing in life, and Cat would totally get it.

Yeah, if she woke and opened her mouth, saying something all sexy like let's go blow this up, or wanna catch a terrorist today, in that killer accent, he would fall for her.

They'd check out El Mateperros's location later that day. Focusing on that terrorist piece of shit was a solid plan. Playing the part of Daniel Locke was part of bringing that POS to justice, but working this op was an eye-opener. It made him realize that it was possible to have as much passion for something that wasn't Titan. And that was Caterina Cruz.

Godforsaken rain had drenched the entire city for the past few hours. Out of habit, Rocco's eyes searched the sidewalks and front entrance of the hotel, always looking for threats. Nothing caught his eye. Travelers. Tourists. Bellhops. All looked ordinary enough. After shutting the door behind Caterina and throwing their gear bags in the back seat, he circled the front of the Audi. The hood was warm in the cold weather thanks to the valet bringing it up.

He tapped on the quarter panel, slid around for his door, and slipped into his seat. "You ready?"

She smiled. "Haven't been this excited in so long."

Raising eyebrows, he raked a look over her, intentionally reminding her of just how excited she'd been recently. "I might take offense to that, Kitten."

A gorgeous blush lit her cheeks. "You play the newlywed card well."

"I'm not the only one. Let's do our recon then get back to it."

A taxi cab cut in and idled in front of their car. He mentally cursed the backward way everyone drove, checked his mirrors, looked over, and-the passenger caught his eye. Rocco's mind lurched.

"Give me a sec." Opening the door, he cautiously stepped out.

No way.

He angled to the side, backing a step for a better look at that fellow. Tall. Broad. Business attire. Maybe strapping, judging by the bulge at his back. If Rocco could just get a better look at the guy paying his fare and talking to the bellboy.

He shook his head. That massive dude looked a lot like...

"Hang tight." He held one finger up to the window.

Cat nodded.

Two steps later, and he cut the guy off. "What the fuck?"

It didn't make sense, but nothing had on this job.

Roman's eye narrowed. "You owe me."

"What are you doing here?" Rocco looked at Roman from head to toe to baggage and back again. "Are you wearing loafers?"

"Yeah, this wasn't my idea, buddy." Roman pulled at his collar.

Button down shirt. Pinstripe tie. Sports coat and slacks. "You look fuckin' ridiculous."

"As do you, asswipe."

Rocco looked down. His outfit mirrored Roman's. Fuck. He did look like a tool. "For the job."

"Same. Since your ass apparently needed a Brooks Brothers hand."

"No way. Get out. Go home."

"Not my orders. Take it up with Boss Man."

"Shit." Why was he so pissed anyway? One of his main concerns was their manpower limitations. Taking out El Mateperros with just the Cat-and-Roc twosome seemed borderline insane. Still, his chest felt tight. The urge to grab his girl and run took hold.

With Roman around, spending every waking second in bed with her wasn't going to happen. He and Cat could play husband and wife to a certain point, but with his boy there, he'd have to take the charade down a notch or two in the hot and heavy department.

"We're on our way out."

"No problem. I gotta check in, do my thing." Which probably meant grab a couple beers so he could handle to the suit and tie. "Here."

Roman reached into a brief case. And now, Rocco had seen it all.

"Is that a purse?"

"Jared would understand if I pummeled your face in." Roman kept searching. What did he keep in there, anyway? Wasn't as if it was an actual, in-use briefcase. "Read this, jackass."

Rocco laughed, watching Roman tug at the tie and smooth his jacket. "More paperwork. I've never been on an op that required this much reading."

"Glad I'm not alone." Roman handed him a folder of papers then undid the top button under his tie. "Find me at the bar later."

"It's going to be a few hours."

"Trust me. That's where I'll be."

Rocco slapped his shoulder. "See ya."

A bellboy nodded to Roman. His bag sat stacked on a cart. Rocco thought about giving him hell for not caring one stupid bag, but then again, he'd done the same thing. Both them were trying to fit into the role of having more money than God, earned behind a desk. Titan paid well, but they absolutely didn't have to wear suits and ties.

He rolled the folder and turned toward the Audi. Caterina's gaze followed Roman until he went through the hotel's sliding doors. Then it shot to him. Rocco rolled his eyes, shrugging, then got in the car.

"Here you go, Kitten." She could be in charge of their reading assignment.

"What's that all about?"

It was a freakin' buzzkill was what it was. "And then there were three."

"I don't understand."

"Me either. Read that, and see if we learn anything worth a damn."

They pulled out onto the main road, and he followed the directions that he'd memorized to the location that Parker swore was El Mateperros's English home base. Caterina paged through the folder, and the sound of papers shuffling made him more anxious.

"We know all this. Duplicates of the images Titan pulled. The only thing new is the addition of the Locke's bodyguard, who was your friend, I assume. It's a backup plan."

Jared never made backup plans without a reason. There could be a hundred reasons, and none of them were great for Rocco.

"His name is Roman."

"Well, the paperwork says his name is Liam Laird."

Rocco drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. What was Jared's move, and why didn't he see it? The next forty-five minutes of their drive was silent, and he searched for the reason Roman had shown up.

"Here we go." Nothing came to mind.

He pulled onto a bumpy side road. Trees reached high overhead and arched over their jangled pathway. As long as Jared didn't know Rocco had slept with Caterina or that he had a serious mental mishap, he was golden. He pulled the Audi over into a location Parker had scouted via satellite images. The site would leave the vehicle out of sight unless someone was really looking, and far enough away that it wouldn't be a red flag to anyone working with the ACG. Without saying a word, Caterina slid into the backseat, stripping off her clothes. It'd be so wrong not to steal a glance, and before he opened the door and changed, Rocco watched in the rear view mirror.

"Pretty, pretty, Kitten."

Long black leggings covered her legs. She lifted her ass to scoot them on. "I thought it was pretty pie hole."

"Never livin' that one down, huh?"

"Get dressed." She slipped on a skintight black shirt, dropped the clip out of her Beretta, and inspected it before sliding it back in.

If he wasn't careful, they'd slip onto El Mateperros's property while he was sporting a hard-on, and that would be a bitch to run with. He shucked the khakis and button down, donning camo cargos and an UnderArmor shirt. Suddenly, he could breathe again.

"Looking good." She jumped back into the front seat and handed him two handguns plus a package with activated listening and tracking devices. "Here."

He tucked a Glock into his back, stuck the other into his leg holster, and looked over. Caterina held a serrated blade between her teeth as she held secured a 9mm into her waistband. Forget Fantasy Island, and screw porn. That was about the sexiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Her cheeks pinked again. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Words wouldn't come. A blade between the teeth turned him on far more than anything soft and see through, not that he would complain about that either. The whole image was just something else. "I've never-you're freakin' badass, Kitten. Hot as hell."

She took the blade out of her mouth and sheathed it. "And don't you forget it."

He reached across the drive shaft, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her sweet body into his lap, kissing her until he couldn't think straight. There. He'd needed that. Maybe now he could breathe. "Goddamn, you drive me crazy. Let's roll."

They tumbled out the car, a mess of arms and legs. His heart beat heavily, and dread tapped him on the shoulder. Suddenly, he wasn't thrilled that Caterina was within a click of a terrorist known for offing families for fun.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The gray sky misted. Rocco studied Caterina's face. Her eyes were bright, searching down the road they would take to El Mateperros's British HQ. According to the reports they'd read, the ACG hadn't spent much time here until recently.

With a suspected attack imminent, the terrorist leader had been making waves, though no one could pinpoint from where. Well, they were about to blow the lid off that intelligence blockage. If they could accomplish their job today, intel would feed straight to Parker's room of bitchin' binary shit. Jared would make sure analysts got their hands on every piece of data they found. All in the name of justice.

That fucker-in-hiding-going around the world and blowing crap up while pumping up the ACG's reputation-would have his day of reckoning soon enough. Rocco couldn't wait to drag him out of his little country bumpkin estate and sling him up. How many countries would fight over who got him first?

He double checked that their Audi was out of sight. It was. "Ready?"

Caterina nodded and was already moving toward El Mateperros's place. It took them five minutes to reach the outer perimeter. A stone fence. Good look, but poor defense. Give Rocco a charge and a few blocks of plastics, and he could make the fence fall like stacked dominoes. It'd be quite the show. Cat would like it, but impressing her wasn't on the agenda. Nor was making a scene. But still... she'd like it.

Really? He rolled his eyes at himself. Between wanting to impress her and wanting to have her tucked away safely, Rocco's attention was distracted at best. He cleared his mind but still smelled her perfume. Shit. With her an arm's length away, he considered recalibrating their plan. They had to slip in, scout the scene, plant a couple of bugs, and get back to the car. But the idea of separating from her didn't sit well. He looked at his watch. Their goal was in and out in forty minutes, and they were already ahead of schedule. He frowned, mind clouding with thoughts of her. They could get in and out and home before- A hotel room isn't a home.

"I don't see anyone," Cat whispered over her shoulder as they slunk closer.

She'd taken their forward position. A cutesy-fancy country house came into view. Couldn't the ACG find a manlier place to call British HQ? This place looked like his grandma's dream come true. It screamed doilies and banana bread, not international terrorist. But Rocco had to give credit where it was due. This was a great cover.