An Excerpt From:  TIGER LILY

A little over an hour later, Shanna thanked the man who’d driven her “home” and got out of the car. She closed the door behind her and looked at the safe house. She hoped to God that the department had been able to get things arranged. She needed to keep her cover intact now that she was under the microscope with Santos’ men.

Feeling self-conscious in her skimpy blue dress and high heels, she walked up the front sidewalk to the house. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the window shade of the house next door move. Looking more closely, she saw an elderly man giving her a dour stare.

No doubt, they didn’t see the likes of her very often in this sedate neighborhood.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the car hadn’t moved. The driver was obviously trying to be a gentleman and make sure she arrived home safely.

“Gentleman, my ass,” she muttered. It was nine o’clock on a sunshine-filled morning. The thug was catching one last long look at her ass before he went back to his job of dealing drugs and enforcing territory.

She just hoped that whoever had prepped the place had left the door open. She didn’t have a key, and she didn’t know where they might have left one. It would be a bitch if her cover were blown because of such a simple detail.

She reached for the doorknob and swallowed a gasp when it turned of its own volition. The door swung open and there, filling the doorway, was her boss.

Tiger Mitchell.

Her jaw dropped, and she went mute.

What was he doing here? She wasn’t prepared for this. Not now. She hadn’t had time to go over what she wanted to say to him. She wasn’t ready for another speech about her impulsiveness.

Her heart thudded in her chest. Was he here to fire her? To take her down to Internal Affairs? There had to be repercussions for what she’d done. She’d never seen him so angry. His eyes flashed green fire, and energy radiated from his tense body. He wouldn’t stop staring, and it made her nervous.

“Ti—”

He moved so quickly; she wasn’t able to get the rest of his code name out. He caught her by the nape of the neck, and his lips came down hard on hers, silencing what she’d intended to say.

Shock paralyzed Shanna. Joe Mitchell was kissing her.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close. An almost electrical jolt of energy went through her at the contact of their bodies, and her eyelids drifted shut.

Five years of wanting bubbled up inside her. Five years of holding back. She started shaking with need. His body was warm and hard against her. His lips ate at hers, and his hands… His touch was heaven.

Almost hesitantly, she ran her hands up his arms. His muscles clenched under her touch.

This wasn’t a fantasy. He was real, and he was kissing her as if his life depended on it.

She wasn’t about to question why. With a groan, she wrapped her arms about his neck and hung on for dear life. When his tongue pressed at the seam of her lips, her body melted. She clung to him, letting his body take her weight.

“Joe,” she whispered.

His knees wobbled, and he clapped his hand around the door jamb.

“Lily,” he said in a ragged tone.

He pulled her inside and slammed the door shut behind them. His touch became more urgent when it returned to her. It was as if he was trying to touch all of her at once. Shanna trembled under his wandering hands. Her skin burned wherever his fingers brushed against her.

One of his hands dove into the dark waterfall of her hair. The other one spread wide against her bare back, skin to skin.

“Don’t do that to me again,” he said roughly.

A shudder went through him, but then he was pulling her across the room. They tumbled down onto the couch, and his lips found hers again.

His kisses jumbled Shanna’s thought processes. She didn’t know why he was here, and she didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about why he was touching her. She just wanted to touch him.

With frantic hands, she pulled his T-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans. She’d always seen him in suits and ties. These casual clothes were driving her wild. She skimmed her hands up his body, and she shivered in delight at what she found.

He was ripped. Every muscle was clearly delineated. She couldn’t stop her fingers from tracing every line. His pecs tensed as she brushed her hand over them, and his stomach rippled when her fingernail skimmed along his six-pack.

She reached for the zipper of his jeans, and he let out a harsh curse.

“Please,” she said on a high note. “Oh, please.”

He pulled away far enough for her to work and ran a line of kisses up to her ear. “We’re being watched,” he whispered.

She didn’t understand, and she didn’t want to.

“Santos men have bugged the place. There’s a camera in the corner of the room.”

This time the words got through. Her hands stilled, and a saber of pain lashed through her.

He’d been putting on a show for the cameras.

Mortification set in, and she wanted to sink into the cushions and disappear. She’d been making love to him, and he’d been putting on a show.

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