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seduced her.
    In the shed. Late at night. A long, hot, dry hump that left him painfully hard and gave her
    what she called the best orgasm she’d ever had with her jeans on.
    They were headed right back there. Fast.
    “Touch me,” she whispered, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Here. Please.”
    “Maggie . . . are you sure?”
    “I’m sure,” she said, rolling against his cock, “that when you call me that name, in that
    voice, with that . . . pressure . . . right there . . . that I’m going to . . .” She breathed into his
    ear. Then licked it. “Come.”
    Exactly like the first time.
    He knew precisely how to make this woman lose it. Her nipples were little grenade pins.
    One touch. One tweak. One bite. That’s all it took.
    He eased under the tank top, sliding up her warm, tight belly, loving how her muscles
    clenched in anticipation. He closed a hand over her sweet, small breast, letting out a slow
    exhale of pleasure. He palmed her nipple and pulled it to a peak. “Beautiful, sexy Maggie.”
    He breathed her name, grateful she’d given him the reason to use it as he kissed his way
    down her throat, over her top and lifted the material up to her chin.
    “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, kiss me there. Kiss me.”
    He closed his mouth over the dark brown bud and instantly she reacted, rocking and rolling
    against his erection, mixing ecstasy and madness down there, making him so hard his balls
    felt like they could explode.
    Sucking one breast and kneading the other, he rode her again and again, sliding his cock up
    and down her crotch, his zipper scraping her denim, knowing it was hollow intimacy but not
    caring because she wanted this release.
    Her skin was moist and smooth, her hips were slow and hungry, her fingers dug into his
    hair as she guided him between her breasts to kiss and lick and curl his tongue over the peaks.
    She whispered his name, moaned with gratitude, whimpered with need.
    Under his mouth, her heart hammered. In his ear, her breath whooshed. She writhed and
    squeezed and bit down on his shoulder. And then she rocked with a vicious little fury that
    bruised his blood-stiffened cock, giving in to her climax.
    “Oh my God.” She fought for steady breaths, but didn’t quite find them. “I have to tell you,
    I can’t remember the last time I did something like this.”
    He could.
    She pushed him off her a little, scrutinizing his expression, reading it wrong. “Oh, I’m
    sorry. I guess that was awfully one-sided.”
    “Nothing was awful,” he said, rolling on to the grass next to her. “Two-sided isn’t going to
    happen in the middle of a state park.”
    She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. “You want to go back to my house?”
    “I am going back to your house.” He ran his finger along her lower lip, plumper from the
    kissing. “But seven miles of bridge is going to give you plenty of time to change your mind
    and let me leave you at the door.”
    If she didn’t, he’d gratefully spend the night with her. But he’d disappear before she woke
    up.
    Because too many more instant replays of the past, and Maggie Varcek was going to realize
    that Michael Scott didn’t really die that night, and the “other life” she knew him from was in
    Miami fourteen years ago. No cover was that good.
    “Then I’ll have time to think about it,” she said.
    He cupped her face, kissed her again, then helped her up. “Let’s go then.”
    He’d done this before—slept with her under false pretenses, used her for pleasure and
    purpose. He wrecked her life once, and sex with Maggie again could not—
    The sudden screech of a car alarm screamed through the night. For a second they froze;
    then Dan reached down and snagged his gun, and automatically thrust Maggie behind him.
    “They’re all in Key West, huh?” He bolted forward, pulling her with him. “Stay behind
    me,” he called out over the deafening wail of the alarm.
    “My bag is in that car,” she