by Elle Thorne
He’d seen a flash of recognition in her eyes just before she’d dropped her lids and shielded her expression. What was behind that look? Was it a good recognition, or was that a flash of regret for what they’d shared that night?
Oh, shit.
He probably shouldn’t know any of the judges for the SSC. A conflict of interest was normally against the rules, but did it matter at this stage? The important stuff was over. The case was in the hands of the judges. And it wasn’t like he could sway their determination.
Maybe I should mention it to David, just to be sure.
He bit back an exhale of exasperation. What was he supposed to say?
We had a one-night stand years ago?
That brought something to mind. She’d probably been told that there would be a replacement rep. Clearly his name hadn’t rung any bells for her.
That notion didn’t make him happy. It meant he wasn’t very memorable. He’d like to have been. He would’ve liked to have kept up with her. Then again, he’d forgotten her name.
She’d told him her name, right?
Fuck.
It was one night. One crazy, wonderful, passion-filled night. She was going overseas soon, if he remembered correctly. He was going to the Middle East, shipping out the next day.
And now? What was she up to now? That night seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet it was burned into his memory. The taste of her, the scent of her. He’d never been able to let it go He’d never met anyone like her before that night. Or after.
She’d captured his attention the moment he saw her. Dark hair and eyes offset by latte-colored skin. Her laugh was contagious and quick to come out. She’d just walked past him; he’d been on his way back to his friends, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d turned and watched that curvy body make its way through the throng of partiers. Then the DJ made an announcement that midnight was moments away.
Countdown toward the New Year.
Cries of “Ten! Nine! Eight!” filled the place.
Instinct kicked in when the DJ announced that everyone should get ready to ring in the New Year with a kiss. The DJ might as well have been talking to Ky, because as far as Ky could see, he was the only one not with someone, not getting ready to kiss someone. He and Laken, both, actually.
He’d known that he had to kiss that beautiful black panther shifter. Her dark, intelligent eyes met his with a directness that made his heart beat faster, and his bear growled demandingly. The sway of her hips and the curve of her ass, coupled with a set of lips that were begging for a kiss…
He hauled ass after her, grabbed her, and turned her around in a quick swivel.
Her dark eyes had widened, and for a brief second he thought she was going to try to kick his ass, then a slow smile curved those full lips upward.
He was in deep.
Immediately.
The second his bear recognized her panther, it was over for him. And for his bear.
“Happy New Year!” the DJ cried out.
Ky gripped her hair, twining his fingers in the long, dark locks, and pulled her head back until her neck was fully exposed. Her eyes narrowed to slits but stayed glued to his. He brushed his lips against the pulse that throbbed in her neck. His bear’s senses picked up the quickening of her pulse and his own pounded a primal beat, matching hers. The room and all the others partiers seemed to pull back, leaving them in the middle of a dark place where the only thing that existed was the two of them and the kiss he wanted.
Desperation moved him. Gritting his teeth against his bear’s desire to claim her fiercely—and his own—he pulled her closer until her body melded with his, her curves fitting perfectly against his muscles. An agonized groan slipped from her lips at the moment his mouth captured the sound, swallowing it as his tongue slipped between her parted lips.
Perfection…
“Malachi Romanoff,” David said now, and Ky realized David had said it more than once.
All eyes were on Ky.
He glanced down to regain his composure, then said, “I’ll need a moment.”
David frowned, then looked at the clock on the wall. “Fifteen-minute recess.”
“What the hell, Romanoff?” Fedor Kozlov’s phlegmatic exclamation was more than loud enough to be heard by every shifter in the room.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Ky slipped out of a side door.
* * *
Laken watched him go. Now what? Was he going to tell someone about their association? About that night? Could she persuade him to tell the secretary that they knew each other, but not from that night?
She could just see the scuttlebutt: Dr. Laken Araya had been removed from SSC duty because of a one-night stand ages ago.
I’m a grown woman. Why does it bother me?
It just did.
She rose from her seat behind the raised panel and made her way toward David Partlay’s corner. “I’ll be back in a few,” she said when she reached him.
He looked up from a monitor and nodded. “Everything okay? Need anything?”
Yeah, for that sex-on-a-stick representative named Malachi Romanoff to keep his mouth shut about our one-night stand.
“No.” She forced a smile to her face. “Thank you, though.”
She slipped out the same door Malachi had used, picking out the scent of him as easily as if it had been the night they’d been together. She’d never been able to let that scent go from her memory, as if it had been branded into her olfactory senses.
She paused in front of the door where his scent stopped.
Here goes nothing.
Hand on the knob, she turned it. She’d have to beg him to keep the information to himself.
Am I prepared to do that?
Yes. She’d do whatever she had to in order to keep from embarrassing her family.
She slipped inside as smoothly as she could, closing the door behind her. He was standing against the wall, his files lying unopened on the table in the center of the room.
Laken fingered the lock on the knob and turned it until it clicked.
He studied her movements, never saying a word, his face serious in repose. She thought of that night, how expressive his face had been, and found her body immediately responding, her pulse racing. She lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see them dilate with lust.
She needed to get hold of herself.
Count backwards. Count backwards. That should do it.
Five.
Four.
She breathed in deeply. His scent filled her lungs, reminding her of the smells from that night.
This isn’t working.
Three.
Two.
One.
Not working at all.
“Laken.” His voice was deep, the sound sinking into her the way his body had sunk into her that night. “Laken Araya.”
She pushed the memories away, knowing they were fraying her ability to concentrate. “Malachi Romanoff.”
“I couldn’t remember your name.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt straining against his muscles. “Did you tell me?”
I must have.
But she couldn’t remember telling him. And she should be sad, disappointed that he didn’t remember, but…
“I didn’t remember yours either.” The words came from her lips as if they’d been pushed out, along with the oxygen that was so vital to her survival.
“Now what?” His eyes narrowed. His pupils were dilating, then constricting. She sensed his battle with his pulse.
She studied him, thinking the last time they’d been together, how she’d scored his chest with her nails as she climaxed while he rammed into her over and over again, his cock claiming her as boldly as his lips took her cries into his mouth.
She shoved the memory away. “I know you have to tell Secretary Partlay you know me.”
He nodded.
“We can’t let what happened that night get out. Is there something else we can say?”
Chapter Six
Ky watched her chew on her bottom lip, turning it into a darker rose color. He’d never stopped thinking of her. He wanted her. His bear wanted her. And he wanted more than a single night from her. Surely she got that. How could she not sense it? How could she not feel the same way?
He had to ask. “Have you thought about me since that night?”
He’d kissed her that night, then he’d grabbed her hand and pulled her into a room at his friend’s clubhouse, a room that he knew would be completely empty. She’d gone with him, as eager, as hungry as he was. He’d closed the door behind them and secured it with a chair.
Catching her with a hand on each of her hips, he lowered his head, his lips swooping in for a kiss. He wasn’t waiting for more of an invitation. Her moan was invitation enough. Her arms snaked around his neck, her nails digging into hair that was buzzed short, ready to withstand the heat in the Middle East.
Her breathing was a series of small pants, drowning out the music and merriment in the other room. His tongue claimed hers, rolling into her mouth without subtlety, fully intent on its mission. He was met with a pleasant surprise when he found out she wasn’t one to yield. She pulled him closer, making his mouth crush hers. Something he didn’t recognize tinged her actions, but it fueled his hunger.
He trailed his tongue toward her earlobe, then down the delicate skin of her neck, finding the tender little hollow. His hand eased her top up, and she raised her hands over her head to allow the fabric passage.
“What are we doing?” Her voice was a sex-husky whisper.
“Whatever you want to do. Are we stopping?” He lapped the hollow, then raised his tongue up, up, up, to her chin, then down, lowering it until he’d reached the top of her bra.
“Not a chance.” She tugged on his shirt.
His shifter sight allowed him to see well in the darkness. He marveled at the creamy mounds that rose from the half-moon cups of her lacy red bra.
When his shirt was off, she trailed a finger down his chest, toward his navel and the downy path of hair that led into his waistband. Desire seized his breath, holding it captive in his lungs as her fingers traced the fabric just above his hips.
“Do you know what you’re doing to me, woman?”
He unzipped her pants, then reached a hand in, his palm over her sex. “I can feel your heat.” He slipped a finger between her folds, holding back from entering the velvet passage. “You’re wet. So ready for me.”
Her breath hitched. He teased her opening, flirting with the channel within, but not entering it, tracing her folds, flicking over her swollen clit.
She sagged against him, her legs parting, yielding more of herself to him, allowing more of her delicious scent to rise and fill his nostrils.
He pressed against her clit and allowed his finger to dip in once, only to the second knuckle.
She shuddered a sigh and her eyes rolled back in her head.
His cock hadn’t been dormant. Hell, no, not by a long shot. Now it twitched and throbbed, pushing against the fabric of his pants, straining for release. Yearning for her.
He let a second finger join the first and plunged it in deep, a growl rising in his chest and in his bear. Yanking her pants and panties down in one smooth move, he crushed her to him, then pushed her up on a table and spread her legs. He pushed his fingers inside her again and again, faster and faster, kissing her and holding her as she reached a screaming orgasm that was drowned out by the DJ’s selection playing at full volume in the other room.
She panted with desire as she reached for him. She pulled him close, releasing the button and zipper that held him prisoner and kept them apart. He gave a growl of anticipation as she wrapped cool fingers around his hot, thick erection. Her eyes held a wicked promise he wanted to hold her to. He anchored her to him and lifted her off the table. Taking her seat on the hard wood, he turned her around and settled her on the one place he needed her to be.
With a swift move and a deft twist, he was buried balls deep in her hot slickness. He reached around, one hand cupping her breast, and pinched her nipple while his other hand found her swollen clit and began a slow, torturous grind. Her thighs clasped him tightly while she rocked on him, luscious ass teasing him, back, forth, up and down. It seemed that part of the time she was in beat with whatever the DJ was playing and other moments she was creating a tempo that spoke to his bear in a primeval language.
She rolled her body on his, pitching forward then leaning backward, as if he were the wildest of rides. Her back arched, pressing her creamy breast deeper into his hand, begging for his fingers to knead the full flesh. The teasing friction as she rose and dropped onto his cock was sending him to a place where waves threatened to wash over him.
When she reached down, taking his balls in gentle fingers, rolling, cradling, a groan was ripped out of him. With one hand still roughly making deliciously tormenting circles on her clit, his other hand roamed down her body, over her waist and hips to the small of her back.
He dropped his fingers, making tiny circles near the rosebud in her dark crevice. He dropped them lower and lower until he’d captured her juices on his thumb, then pulled his hand back and teased that dark area while her pussy clenched around his cock, tighter and tighter. The closer he got to that rosebud, the tighter she held him in her sheath. When his thumb pressed into the little puckered hole just the tiniest bit, her grip on him became fierce, pulling at him, driving him nearer to the edge.
She gasped, then pushed back.
Ky pressed his thumb deeper into the darkness, sinking into the crease of her ass. Her rhythm picked up an even more frantic pace; she rocked on him, riding him hard, pushing him closer and closer to the fever.
She whimpered, a sound only his shifter hearing would have picked up. Each thrust he made, each time she lifted and dropped her body onto his, slamming into him, was punctuated by a grunt and the wicked slapping of flesh on flesh. He moved his thumb in and out gently with their rhythm.
She groaned, threw her head back and howled, her muscles clenching around him, tightening, milking, and drawing out his own climax. Grabbing her hips, he held her tightly against his body while his essence pulsed into her, filling her.
Reluctantly, Ky brought himself back to the present. He hadn’t had a night like that since. Nor had he found another woman like her. Laken had imprinted herself on his bear and his soul.
Jesus. He’d forgotten how hot that first time had been. They’d dressed, then danced the night away, then gone to his place for more. He’d never found out why she was going overseas, but he was glad about one thing.
“I’m happy you made it back in one piece.”
Her face fell. “Not exactly.” Her mouth clamped into a thin line.
“What?”
She shook her head and parted the seam in her lips just enough to let one word out. “Nothing.”
“Well?” He cocked his head, waiting for her answer. “Did you think of me at all? After that night, I mean.”
Her swallow wasn’t only audible, it was a lump he watched travel down the neck he’d kissed that night. Had she been thinking about the same things he’d been thinking? Did she remember that night as vividly as he did?
“Yes,” she admitted. “Now, how are we going to solve this? I can’t have this getting out.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He contemplated an idea. This is so fucked up. “Have dinner with me.”
Her black eyes widened, and her lips parted with surprise. “What? That’ll only make things worse. You can’t be seen with one of the judges.”
“Okay. After the case is over, then.”
* * *
Laken couldn’t breathe. What the hell was she supposed to say? Was he asking her to have dinner in exchange for his silence? Why would he?
She didn’t have to go, when all was said and done.
&
nbsp; Her panther screeched a roar in her head, almost pushing her to cover her ears.
Dinner with this man was the last thing she needed to do. He was too sexy. Too much. A man like this would pull her away from her goals to work with the innocent victims of war.
She needed to run away as fast as she could. But running away was the one thing she didn’t want to do. She wanted to have dinner with him.
She wanted a repeat of that night.
Fat chance of that, with me, with him.
She fought a grimace as she said, “I’ll do it. Dinner.”
A smile curved his full lips, transforming his face from that of a no-nonsense soldier to that of a bedroom-eyed god.
“Mr. Romanoff.” What was she supposed to call him? That seemed too formal for someone who’d seen her naked once, long ago, when she was another woman—a very different woman.
I’ve seen so much. Been through so much.
“Malachi,” she corrected herself.
“Ky.” He smiled. “My friends and family call me Ky.”
“I need to get back to the hearing. The judges have to deliberate.”
Chapter Seven
Somehow, Laken managed to keep her eyes off of Ky Romanoff, concentrating on everyone except for the sexy shifter when she reentered the room after he did.
No sooner had she sat down than her phone buzzed. She chanced a quick glance.
Cadence’s text read: If you can’t go to the beach, we’ll bring the beach to you.
And there was a picture of Cadence and Carina on the beach in Cozumel, fruity frozen drinks in hand. The drinks were garnished with colorful umbrellas, and her sisters’ faces were garnished with half-drunk grins. She bit back the sigh of frustration she wanted to give in to.
She tore her mind away from Cozumel and back to the present.
David Partlay, looking uber-professional in his dark suit and dark-blue tie, rose and pressed a button that rang a bell. He cleared his throat, and the room silenced. “It’s time for the judges to deliberate on the case.”
