Special Ops Exclusive

by Elle Kennedy

  As relief fluttered through him, he shifted his attention back to his father. “You should probably go now. People might start wondering about your late-night excursions.”

  Barrett nodded. “I’ll send that guard to keep watch on McAvoy. I’d recommend renting out the room next door and—”

  “Already done,” Nick said with a crooked grin. “What do you take me for, an amateur?”

  His dad’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Walk me out, son. And good night, Ms. Parker,” he told Rebecca.

  “Night,” she murmured, her green eyes conveying a whole lot of displeasure.

  Nick followed his father outside to where a Lincoln Town Car with heavily tinted windows was parked.

  “She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?” the secretary remarked with a soft chuckle.

  “Yep. Not to mention headstrong, argumentative, infuriating...”

  Barrett clicked a remote to unlock the car. “So,” he said casually, “is it serious?”

  Nick shifted in discomfort. “Nah, not really.”

  “You sure about that, son?”

  His dad’s piercing look was too shrewd, too knowing, and Nick found himself averting his eyes. “You know how it is in extreme situations, the whole adrenaline rush, the sense of urgency. Sometimes people get caught up in all those intense emotions.” He shrugged awkwardly and repeated himself. “You know how it is.”

  “Actually, I don’t. Your mother and I were quite boring.”

  Nick smiled. “The good kind of boring, though. You two were so in sync.”

  “We were. She was a good woman, your mother.”

  A lump rose in the back of his throat and he struggled to swallow it down. “I still miss her. Do you?”

  “Every damn day.” The secretary reached for the door handle, then halted. “Son...Ms. Parker seems like a good woman, too, you know.”

  Nick gulped again. “She is,” he agreed. “But...” He gave a helpless shrug. “She’s just not the right woman.”

  He could have sworn he glimpsed a flash of disappointment in his father’s eyes, but then the older man offered a shrug of his own and opened the car door. “If you say so, Nicky. If you say so.”

  * * *

  Rebecca went to bed early that night, miraculously finding the strength to resist Nick’s advances even as her body begged her to indulge. But she couldn’t. She was too upset. Too hurt. And even though she was a woman who usually met challenges and confrontations head-on, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to Nick about what she’d heard him say.

  She’s just not the right woman.

  He probably hadn’t realized she’d been standing near the window. Or remembered that they’d left that window slightly open to air out the odor of mildew in the motel room.

  God, when she’d heard him say that, it had been like a knife to the heart. The deep ache in her chest had ensured a night of tossing and turning, and that agonizing throb had been there when she’d opened her eyes this morning.

  Nick seemed oblivious to her turbulent mood, or maybe he was just too distracted to notice. He’d been ducking next door a lot this morning to question McAvoy and get as many details as he could about Ferguson and any other potential players in this mess, and each time she watched his back disappear through the door, she imagined that it was for the last time.

  Because soon it would be.

  Because he didn’t want to be with her.

  He thought she was headstrong and argumentative and—what was the last one? Oh right, infuriating.

  Sometimes people get caught up in all those intense emotions.

  Those words had stung, too, and still did as they floated back into her head. Was that what he thought this was about? She was so jacked up on adrenaline and danger that she’d jumped into his bed without thinking it through?

  Rebecca was so troubled she didn’t realize Nick had returned to the room until his arms wrapped around her from behind.

  She jerked in surprise. “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You okay?” He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder, which was bare thanks to her spaghetti-strap tank top.

  His lips were warm, firm, and that teeny little kiss sent a shiver of pleasure through her.

  “I’m fine,” she said absently.

  Nick’s breath tickled her ear. “No, you’re not. You’re still pissed off at me.”

  When she turned to look at him, the guilty cloud in his eyes was hard to miss. “I’m not pissed off. I’m just...tired, I guess.”

  “Tired of what?”

  “Trying to convince you that I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. And maybe it makes me an alpha Neanderthal, but it’s in my nature to want to take care of people. I...” Something oddly vulnerable flashed on his face. “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”

  Despite herself, her heart soared. He cared about her. Darn it, she knew he cared.

  So why was he so against a future with her?

  It can’t work, Becks. Deal with it.

  That painfully blunt voice sent another shooting pain to her heart. But it was true—it couldn’t work.

  Nick’s protectiveness was cute, and sure, maybe it made her melt just a little, but she would never be that sweet, docile housewife who’d sit around waiting for her husband to come home from work. That wasn’t a role she could ever play, a role that would ever suit her. Nick’s vaguely disapproving response to her admission that she wouldn’t quit her job after she had kids spoke volumes about the kind of partner he wanted, and no matter how much she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t give him what he wanted.

  Story of her life, huh? Her parents had tried to pigeonhole her, mold her into what they wanted her to be, but Rebecca had always been that square peg that didn’t fit into the round hole. Even if she’d tried, she wouldn’t have been able to change her personality to please her parents.

  And she couldn’t do it now to please Nick.

  She had to end it.

  She needed to end it.

  But as she stood there in front of him, while he stroked her cheeks with his rough-skinned fingertips, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  One more time. She wanted him just one last time. Was that too selfish of her?

  Heck, if it was, she didn’t care.

  Blinking to control the tears stinging her eyelids, she slid her fingers into his dark hair and pulled his head down for a kiss.

  * * *

  Nick could taste the desperation on Rebecca’s tongue. Something had upset her, he knew that, but she didn’t seem interested in talking anymore. Her mouth was eagerly devouring his, and he didn’t have the strength to break that passionate connection.

  As he kissed her back, his hands explored those delectable curves he was becoming addicted to. He skimmed his fingers up her bare arms, then let them travel down her body—over the sides of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the perfect roundness of her buttocks.

  “I want you,” Rebecca murmured.

  She led him toward the bed even as she continued to kiss him with an urgency that sent his pulse careening.

  They stumbled onto the mattress, with Rebecca straddling his body and bending over to kiss him again. Her long hair fell like a curtain around their heads, tickling his neck and getting stuck between their mouths. With a frustrated moan, Rebecca pushed her hair aside and moved her mouth to his neck.

  When she sucked on his flesh, Nick groaned and thrust upward to rub his throbbing erection into her core.

  She straightened up, her breathing heavy, her cheeks flushed with desire. As their gazes locked, she slowly peeled off her tank top, then unsnapped her bra so that her breasts came free. Her nipples were already hard, two tight buds of arousal pleading for his attention.

  As his pulse thudded in his chest, Nick reached up to play with those mouthwatering breasts, knowing how sensitive she was there, how much she loved it. Sure enough, she moaned and pressed those firm mounds
deeper into his palms, and he gave them a squeeze that made her squeak with pleasure.

  “C’mere,” he rasped.

  He leaned forward on his elbows so he could capture one nipple with his mouth. The moment his lips closed over that rigid bud, she made a sexy little purring sound that sent a bolt of excitement straight to his groin. He kissed and tasted and nipped and teased, his stubble leaving red splotches on her perfect skin and bringing a rush of male satisfaction he probably should have been more ashamed of. He knew he shouldn’t be getting so turned on seeing his mark on her skin, and yet he was harder than he had ever been.

  Rebecca reached for his shirt and shoved it off him, and once his bare chest was exposed, she kissed him right between the pecs. The sweet brush of her lips sent a shiver rolling through him. That shiver became a full-body shudder when she moved her mouth to one flat nipple and her tongue darted out for a taste.

  “Do you like that?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  “Darling, I like everything you do to me.”

  “Good.”

  Nick went mindless with need under her sweet exploration. Every kiss, every teasing flick of her tongue evoked a new rush of heat and a new jolt of impatience. Anticipation built deep inside him as that sexy mouth started to move lower and lower.

  “Off,” she ordered when she reached the barrier of his pants.

  Nick didn’t need to be asked twice. He unbuttoned, unzipped and undressed like the good soldier he was.

  Rebecca laughed at his eagerness, then wiggled out of her own pants and underwear and tossed them on the other bed.

  As usual, the sight of her naked body got him so hot he could barely breathe. He drew her back into his arms, so she was draped over his chest, and proceeded to explore her curvy body. She explored right back, running her hands over his face, his chest, his abs. Christ, her touch drove him wild. Actually, everything about her produced that result.

  Apparently he had the same effect on her, because when he slipped one hand between her legs, he found her drenched with desire.

  Nick choked out a groan. “How are you always so ready for me?”

  She wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft and said, “I can ask you the same question.”

  Then she brought him to her entrance and seated herself fully.

  Nick shuddered with pleasure. Crap. He was so close to exploding and Rebecca hadn’t even started to move yet.

  Breathing through his nose, he willed away the oncoming climax and dug his fingers into her waist.

  “Take us over the edge,” he murmured. “Do it, darling.”

  Something tender and vulnerable passed over her face.

  And then she nodded and began to move.

  Nick watched her face the entire time. Her heavy-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips. Tiny sounds of pleasure left her mouth as she rode him, slow, sweet, gentle. When her movements grew erratic, her body squirming in agitation, Nick knew she was close. He promptly moved his hand to the place where they were joined and began to stroke her, and soon she was crying out and sagging forward, trembling wildly as she toppled right over the edge.

  His own release swept him away to a plane of body-numbing bliss, tightening his muscles and fogging his brain. When he finally crashed down to earth, he felt something wet on his shoulder. Alarmed, he tipped Rebecca’s head back and saw the tears sparkling in her eyes.

  “Did I hurt you?” he burst out.

  “No. No, of course not.”

  She broke the intimate connection by sliding off his lap, then reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand and hurriedly started cleaning up.

  Nick studied her with growing apprehension. “Why are you crying, then?”

  She didn’t say a word.

  “Talk to me, Rebecca. Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” she said in a small voice.

  He was off the bed in a nanosecond, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears with his thumbs.

  “What can I do? Tell me what’s going on, damn it.”

  Rebecca let out an audibly unsteady breath. “It’s over, Nick. I’m done.”

  Chapter 17

  Stunned, Nick stared into her green eyes, but he didn’t see any hint that she was joking around. No, she looked more serious than a full-on stroke.

  “Rebecca.” He went to touch her cheek again, and discovered that his hand was shaking.

  Rather than respond, she ducked out of his touch and went to search for her discarded clothes. When she started getting dressed in a hurry, he found himself doing the same. Somehow it felt wrong to have a serious conversation buck-naked.

  He wanted to approach her, to take her into his arms, but she seemed to be intentionally keeping her distance. She walked over to the window and peered out, but he knew she wasn’t looking at anything in particular.

  “Rebecca,” he said again, “what do you mean it’s over?”

  She turned to him with a sad look. “I mean it’s over. You and me. This thing between us.”

  Nick was too afraid to try to interpret the burst of panic and fear that skated up his spine.

  “Why?” he demanded, his tone harsher than he wanted it to be.

  “Because I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

  Her soft confession hung in the air for a moment.

  He swallowed. “I see.”

  “Do you? Because I don’t think you do.” A chord of desperation rang in her voice. “I love being with you, Nick, and the more time I spend with you, the closer I come to falling. So we have to stop it, now, before I get even more attached to you. Because we both know there’s no future for us.”

  His throat got real tight all of a sudden. “What makes you say that?”

  “You,” she said simply. “You have a vision of what your future should be like, and I don’t belong in it. I won’t quit my job, and I won’t be a housewife, and I won’t stop reporting on potentially risky events. Not just won’t, but can’t. It’s my life, my livelihood, and not only am I great at it, but I love it.”

  “I know,” he said hoarsely, because damn it, he couldn’t deny that.

  Rebecca Parker was talented as hell, and not only that, but she truly cared about the stories she reported on. She wasn’t one of those jaded correspondents who’d given up on the concept of truth and justice. She belonged on that television screen, informing people about the corruption and greed and horrors of this world.

  “I’m not the right woman for you.”

  His chest went rigid as she repeated the same words he’d told his father last night. When he met her eyes, the weariness in them said it all.

  “You heard me and my dad talking last night,” he said flatly.

  She nodded.

  “Christ.” He raked both hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I wish you hadn’t heard that, but...I don’t know what to tell you. I love being with you, too, but you’re right. I do have this mental image of my future. I want what my parents had, damn it.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he said roughly. “The other guys at school, they’d be looking for that next lay, and I’d be the guy looking for the one. Call me a wuss, but I want that perfect life my folks had.”

  Her answering smile was gentle. “There’s no such thing as perfect, Nick.”

  “Perfect is what you make it,” he countered.

  “And you and me...we’re not that vision of perfection, huh?”

  The pain in her voice tore at his insides. He wanted nothing more than to assure her that they could make it work, but each time he pictured a future with her, he saw Rebecca taking off to parts unknown and possibly getting killed by, say, a frickin’ Molotov cocktail being hurled at her head.

  He swiftly banished the gruesome image. “I’d end up trying to change you,” he confessed. “And I don’t want to be the man who puts out that spark in your eyes, darling. I can’t be that man.”

  Now it was anger coloring
her tone. “Wow. My personality is so undesirable to you that you’d actively try to change it?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said in frustration. “It’s more about your job than anything. I wouldn’t want you to take on dangerous assignments. I’d be a mess whenever you left town, consumed with fear and worry, and I never want to place you in the position where you had to choose between me and your career.”

  “What about me?” she challenged. “What if you choose to return to active duty? I’d be in the same boat worrying about you.”

  “I’m done being a soldier,” he said quietly. “When this is all over, I want a civilian job. Probably here in D.C., so I can be close to my dad and sister.”

  Rebecca fell silent for a moment. “There’s really no point in talking about this anymore. We both know it won’t work.”

  His throat burned, but he couldn’t figure out why this hurt so bad. He’d known from the start that this affair wouldn’t amount to anything long-lasting.

  So why did he feel like the damn world was ending?

  “I...” Nick stopped, not sure what he wanted to say. Not sure if there was anything left to say. “I guess you’re right. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

  Rebecca’s expression grew veiled. “You should call your father and make sure he’s made all the arrangements for tonight.”

  “Yeah, I should.”

  Their gazes locked.

  Another silence descended.

  As his gut clenched in sorrow, Nick broke eye contact and reached for his phone.

  * * *

  The secretary’s limo picked Nick up at eight-thirty that evening. Because his dad was traveling with several DoD agents who made up his security detail, Nick didn’t want them knowing about McAvoy and Rebecca, so he’d arranged for the pickup seven blocks from the motel.

  The dinner portion of the veterans’ event would be wrapping up around now, and because his father’s presence hadn’t been required, the two men had agreed it would be better to show up just as the gala was getting under way. They planned on catching Ferguson right before he delivered his speech to the veterans.

  When Nick slid into the backseat of the limo, his father immediately leaned forward and handed him a garment bag. “I grabbed the tux you left in the guest room closet,” Kirk Barrett said.