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spine. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Kenna slid her hand back up, tightly curled her fingers around his thickness and began to work him.
    Pure unadulterated pleasure flooded his brain. “Ah. Jesus that feels so fucking good.”
    She kissed the spot below his ear. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when it’s my wet mouth on you instead of my hand.”
    “You really want to make me come fast, don’t you?”
    A confident feminine laugh. Then she started a blissfully brisk rhythm that made him groan and thrust higher to meet her masterful strokes.
    Twisting up to the tip. Down to the root. Over and over. No change in the pace. Her touches were oddly familiar. Kenna seemed to know exactly what he liked. How hard she could pull on his dick without making it painful. How much he craved the pad of her thumb circling the plump head with each upstroke. Each tug brought him closer to the edge. He held his breath. Clenched his ass cheeks, bumping his hips and closed his eyes, readying himself to burst in her hand.
    God. It was right there. That ultimate rush of relief…
    Then she started snoring.
    He froze. His cock twitched at the sudden loss of friction. What the hell? How could she fall asleep at a time like this? When he was so goddamned close?
    He opened his eyes. Looked down.
    And saw his thick fingers wrapped his stiff cock, not hers.
    Fuck. His stomach muscles tightened. Had it all been a wet dream?
    Dawn approached, chasing away the dark shadows of the room. Drake rolled slightly, cringing when the bed squeaked. He shot a nervous glance her direction, zooming in on her form on the other bed.
    She had one pillow over her head. Her spine curved toward him and he saw the Victoria’s Secret tag sticking out of her camisole. A slender, bare calf peeked out from beneath the white sheet. Good. She had her back to him. Her loud snort bounced off the cheap paneling and echoed in the small room.
    He slumped with relief. She was still asleep. At least she hadn’t realized he’d been whacking off in the bed right beside her.
    Talk about pathetic.
    Then he realized he hadn’t moved his hand. He glanced down at his cock. The purple head was swollen and his shaft was an angry red. Unhappy with the interruption.
    No shit. He sighed and yanked up his boxers. Pity to waste a good hard-on.
    Looked like he really would be taking his relief in the shower by himself. Again.
    But he knew exactly whose face he’d be picturing.

Chapter Seven
    Drake was gone the next morning when she woke up. The shower walls were still beaded with moisture. The humid air in the bathroom carried his scent so Kenna knew he hadn’t been gone long.
    She cursed as she untangled the snarly red wig. After securing it on her head, she brushed the flyaway strands, scrutinizing her appearance in the bathroom mirror.
    No contacts today, just heavy black eyeliner. Fake mole on her cheekbone. She’d made her nose appear thinner and longer with pencil shadowing. Red eyebrows. Bubble-gum pink lips. She removed fuzz from the sequined black Harley Davidson tank top with a lint brush. Peeled on a black spandex mini-skirt.
    The door to the room slammed. Agent March had returned.
    Her stomach jumped. She tossed out knee-high patent leather stiletto boots and her purse, lugging the packed bag behind her as she exited the small space ass first.
    “Agent March, you think we can swing by—”
    A sharp intake of breath froze the words in her throat.
    She glanced over her shoulder.
    Bobby stared, glassy-eyed, slack-jawed, his cheeks a charming shade of pink. He shuffled his feet with enough vigor the shoelaces came untied. “Umm…morning, Ms. Jones. Agent March had to double-check some equipment and he asked me to—”
    “Stay here and baby-sit me?” She gave Bobby an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Get a bit edgy before my first cup of coffee.”
    Bobby brightened. “There’s coffee in the lobby. I could get you a cup if you’d like.”
    “You are so sweet,” she cooed.