Twenty-One
Tristan had never had to battle arousal while the Desperado tackled ten-foot swells. Another first brought to him by Lulu Spencer-Bennington. Face it, nothing was going to be quite the same after this experience with her. For better or worse, he couldn’t yet say.
But she sure felt good in his arms. The perfect long-limbed bundle of strawberry-tart sexiness. He would have taken her right then and there, in his wheelhouse, up against his dashboard, if she weren’t injured and they weren’t caught between a storm and a gunman.
When they were almost to Far Point, Lucas radioed him. “Message from Maya. The FBI is on their way. Come on home.”
“Ten-four.”
Lulu twisted in his arms to glance up at him. “Should we? Or should we just keep going?”
“If we keep going this way we’ll get in
