The erotically explicit words combined with the tingles and static pleasure had her muscles tightening around the intrusion with swift clenching spasms.

It was devastating. Fiery pulses of electric sensation began racing through her, building, throwing her ever closer to a pleasure she knew would destroy her.

“That’s it, Kenni,” he groaned, his voice tight. “Move against me like that.”

Her hips were shifting, moving against him, forcing his erection deeper.

Each hard thrust of his cock had her flying higher. The rasp of his erect flesh impaling her, retreating, only to surge inside her once again, deeper, harder, renewing the sense of pleasure-pain as he stretched her inner flesh. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned again, lifting himself to his knees in front of her.

Hard hands gripped her beneath her knees, pressing her legs back and spreading her farther. “There now, keep milking my cock, baby. Let me watch. Let me see you take me.”

Kenni cried out, the carnal intensity of his expression as arousing as the feel of his hard flesh penetrating her and his explicit demands spurring her.

Each thrust inside her tightened the bands of sensation burning and swirling through her senses. Each heavy penetration stretched delicate flesh, rasped against painfully sensitive nerve endings.

She was only barely aware of her cries as he moved harder against her, his thrusts increasing as he came over her again. Catching his weight on one elbow, he used the other hand to grip her hip again as his thrusts grew harder, faster.

Perspiration beaded on his shoulder, sliding along burnished gold flesh and catching in the short hairs growing across his chest.

Kenni stared up at him, caught, held by the intensity of the electric blue burning between lowered lashes. Pleasure began racing faster, harder. Slick flesh slid against slick flesh; breaths rasped from their chests as pleasured moans sounded through the room.

Her inner muscles clenched with hard, rapid ripples of response that tightened around her clit. Her nails bit into his biceps, her breathing became harder.

Kenni could feel herself unraveling.

Jazz’s gaze held hers as his erection pounded inside her, pushing her harder, faster.

“Jazz…” His name was a breathless cry; was rapture.

She couldn’t stop the explosion that tore through her and hurled her into a vortex of such ecstasy that for a heartbeat she wondered if she’d died. Wildfire consumed her, rapture hurled her from peak to peak as she heard Jazz’s heavy groan and felt pulsing heat spreading through her inner flesh.

Another blazing rush of pleasure overtook her.

Perspiration soaked her body and the flaming pleasure hurled her deeper, harder into a vortex she never wanted to escape.

She wanted to stay forever in the crashing waves of ecstasy, locked against his hard body, feeling his pleasure merging with hers. This was where she was born to be, in his arms, his pleasure …

Oh God, just let her stay here forever because reality was going to shred her soul when the danger returned.

*   *   *

Kenni slept.

A deep hard sleep indicative of an exhaustion as much emotional as physical.

Sitting on the side of the bed after running a cool cloth over her thighs and the swollen folds of her pussy, Jazz found himself staring into the darkness of the bedroom, more confused than he could ever remember being in his life.

He’d broken so many personal rules with this woman that he’d stopped keeping count. But tonight he’d broke one he’d set in stone.

He’d forgotten to wear a condom.

The memory of being surrounded by slick, tight muscles, the feel of her pussy milking his erection was so fucking good. So God-help-him sweet all he wanted to do was experience it again. To work his cock into the fist-tight grip of her pussy and fill her with his release over and over again.

He wanted to risk his soul with a woman who hadn’t even trusted him with the truth of her identity.

Biting back a curse, Jazz rose to his feet and made his way through the house. Checking the locks on doors and windows, giving Marcus and Essie a pet before gazing at the pups, sleeping with such innocence.

Years of moving from one lover to another, never allowing one of them to become emotionally attached to him, never letting his emotions become invested in any of them. Because they were already invested in a woman he believed was dead.

“This isn’t right,” Cord whispered as Jazz stood at Kenni’s grave site, hours after the funeral.

He hadn’t heard her brother approach, hadn’t known anyone was there. Staring at the mound of bare dirt, so focused on whatever gut-wrenching agony gripped him that nothing else had mattered.

“No, it’s not right,” Jazz agreed.

“Listen to me, Jazz, that’s not my sister in there.” Cord swung him around so fast that Jazz could only stare back at him in surprise, then in shock.

“What are you saying, Cord?” His heart was suddenly racing, an edge of hope rising inside him.

“You heard what that witness said,” Cord snapped, rage burning in his green eyes. “She was running from the hotel when she was shot. We have to find whoever grabbed her and ran with her.”

The hope died just as quickly.

“A druggie, Cord?” he whispered. “Your dad sent a dozen men to check that out, you were with them…”

Cord looked away, shaking his head slowly. When he turned back, Jazz saw the hopelessness that filled his brother’s gaze.

“What’s going on?” Cord whispered then. “There were three bodyguards with them, Jazz. How did this happen? How did it happen?”

Because the bodyguards had turned against her and her mother and attempted to kill both of them.

The hotel fire had been deliberately set—Vinny Maddox, Kenni’s father, had learned that much. An explosive device set on the floor Kenni and her mother’s suite was located on. The detective investigating the case reported that smoke inhalation had killed the mother and daughter, and the flames had destroyed their delicate bodies.

Moving from where the pups slept, Jazz made his way to the kitchen where the two silent Blanchard sisters sat with coffee and electronic tablets.

Pausing behind them he stared at the file pulled up on Kate’s screen. The investigator’s report from the fire in question.

“What are you thinking, Kate?” He turned to her, seeing the purpose in her eyes.

“I’m thinking she’ll never be safe until we figure out who wanted her dead to begin with,” Kate stated softly. “And from what she said, there’s a high chance that could be family. Perhaps one of her brothers.”

Jazz shook his head. “Not her brothers. Go ahead and eliminate them; I’d bet money neither Cord, Deacon, nor Sawyer was behind this or knew about it. They learn she’s alive then hell will hit the Kin until they find out who was behind it.”

“Let’s see if you’re right,” Lara suggested as she lifted a grainy, color photo from the small mobile printer they were using.

Taking it, Jazz stared at the vehicle that had nearly run Kenni down that afternoon.

“Where did you get this?” he asked her.

“Bank cameras.” A grin tugged at her lips. “I couldn’t get his face, but I got the side of his head. If nothing else, maybe, one of her brothers will recognize that, or the car. Everyone knows about the attempted hit-and-run,” she pointed out. “He shouldn’t think it strange if you’re trying to find out who attempted it.”

She was right.

He stared at the picture himself. There was something about the profile of the driver that nagged at him. A familiarity he couldn’t place.

“No doubt Cord will be here as soon as he hears about it,” he told them. “Hide your car in the barn before daylight. It should fit nicely in one of the empty stalls and there’ll be no chance of it being seen, even if the barn’s checked.”