by Lora Leigh
“It’s . . .” she gasped. “It’s so good, Noah.”
“Tight and hot,” he crooned, lowering his lips to hers as her lashes fluttered closed. He brushed his lips over hers, licked the parted curves. “Like a hot little mouth sucking me deep and tight. Do you feel it, Sabella? Your pussy sucking me in? Loving my dick?”
She jerked, cried out at the stab of pleasure that struck her womb.
“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart? Just a little bit nasty, just a little bit rough. Just a little bit dangerous.”
She loved him like this. She ached for this. Realized as her lashes lifted that this was what had been missing, what he had been holding back from her during their marriage.
“You’re a whole lot dangerous,” she groaned, lifting to him, feeling her lips brush his as she spoke.
“Hold on tight, sugar. We’re gonna make you burn brighter.”
Her hands tightened in his hair.
His hips jerked, pushed forward with a hard, deep stroke, and a thin ragged wail tore from her lips.
“Fuck, yes. Scream for me.”
One hand gripping her hip, he tugged his cock back, the crest only poised inside her as he gave a hard, fast thrust inside her again.
Sabella nearly exploded. She felt the vibrations slam inside her before he stopped, not quite filling her yet, a ragged snarl falling from his lips as she screamed his name.
“Again. Scream for me again, Sabella. Scream my name.” He pulled back. “Who’s fucking you, Sabella?”
The hard penetration filled her with him. Her hips jerked, writhed. “Noah,” she screamed his name. “Oh God. Noah.”
“Yeah. Oh yeah.” He ground against her, his pubic bone rotating against her clit as he thrashed, her legs lifting, wrapping around his hips as she fought for that last bit of pressure that would send her hurtling into release.
“Yeah, baby. Scream my name. Noah’s fucking you. Taking you.” He pulled back. “Who does this sweet hot pussy belong to?”
He impaled her, pressed hard and fast inside her, and she screamed his name again.
“Damn right. Noah. Noah’s fucking you.”
Sabella opened her eyes, staring up at him in dazed need, watching his expression contort, his eyes burn brighter, darker. Then he was pushing inside her hard and fast again, and he didn’t stop.
The sound of flesh slapping, deep wet penetration, and her own screams filled her ears. Each slamming thrust ground him against her clit, threw her higher, harder, until she was crying out, beginning, and then exploding into such rapturous, perfect pleasure that she could feel herself becoming lost within the sensations ripping through her.
She heard him. He cried out her name, his ruined voice agonized as two more thrusts buried him deeper, harder, and then he was jerking inside her, against her, filling her with the heated hard pulses of his release.
He filled the interior of the truck with the scent of sex and satisfaction. His scent. Her scent. They mingled, marked them, marked the seats and the vehicle and marked her soul.
When he collapsed over her, his arms wrapping around her, folding her in his powerful hold, Sabella had to fight to hold back her tears, her need for explanations.
She had her husband’s body, held all the dark passion she had only glimpsed in him before, but she didn’t have his trust.
It was a hard blow, the realization that he didn’t trust her, that he trusted his brother, but not her.
Her arms tightened around him and a single tear slid from her eye before she could battle the rest back.
For whatever reason, he was here now. Here, and hungry for her. He was still hard inside her, moving slow and easy against her, filling her ears with his ragged breaths and his gentleness.
“One more time.” He nipped at her ear, then kissed her neck, and his hips moved, pulling his erection, still thick and hard, back, until only the crown was poised inside her, before pushing inside her again.
Slow and easy. He took her slow and easy. His lips whispered over hers, sipped at them. His tongue tasted them and slid against hers like rough velvet.
And his gaze held hers. Fierce. So bright. Agonized and filled with emotions she was certain he didn’t know he was showing.
His jaw was locked tight. He wasn’t speaking now. He was forcing the words back. Forcing back that guttural vow he had always given her in Gaelic. The promise he had always made with his heart and with his body.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, lifting her hand to his rough cheek, holding him to her, relishing the feel of his body sliding against hers. “Never, Noah. Never stop.”
Their breathing was rough in the steamy heat of the truck cab. Their flesh slipped and slid against each other, against the leather seats. He groaned and his pace increased. His jaw tightened.
“Never stop,” she cried out as she felt the ribbons of pleasure snapping inside her again, jerking her against him as she cried out his name. “Oh God, Noah. Never stop.”
Noah pumped inside her, his release spurting with agonized pleasure inside her as he felt the final assault to his senses easing.
She had always done this to him. Always made him insane to take her, as many times as he could take her. But now, that need was like a steady flame inside him. Having her enough would never happen.
He pulled her into his arms as they fought for breath, his body curled around hers on the makeshift bed of the truck cab, the leather wet beneath them.
He let his hands stroke over her, ease her. Her back was to his chest, his hips spooned against her, and he should have been uncomfortable. He wasn’t. He was holding her, brushing her hair back from her face before kissing her brow gently.
“Okay?” he whispered as he felt her breathing finally steady.
Her little laugh was thready, almost tearful.
“Does alive count?” Her voice was hushed, as soft as his. As though to speak any louder would somehow damage the intimacy enfolding them.
“I definitely want you alive.” He smiled at her, his fingers stroking down her bare arm as her head lay on the pillow of his other arm.
She was relaxed, soft against him. Like a lazy little cat. All that was missing was the purr.
“This is nice,” she murmured, turning to stare up at him, flowing against him like silk. “You’re very hard-core, aren’t you, Noah?”
He grunted at that. “You call that hard-core? Baby, that was just a little snack. Playtime.”
He grinned as her eyes widened in playful surprise.
“I might not survive it if you get serious then.” Her lips pursed at the thought. “Maybe I should double up on my vitamins?”
He nipped the tip of her nose, almost laughing at her expression as he stroked his fingers along her hip.
“Very bad girl,” he warned her. “You could end up getting spanked.”
“But I like getting spanked.” She looked up at him from the corners of her eyes. “You’re all threat, I—” She broke off.
God! She pushed her fingers roughly through her hair. She had almost called him “Irish.” Almost let her knowledge of who he was slip past her lips.
“You what?” Noah grinned, pulling back.
Her expression seemed to even out, a rueful smile pulling at her lips. “I think you’re all talk.”
His eyes narrowed. “I could say different.”
“Tonight?” She laughed, a low, lazy sound. “Let’s go home first. The bed is more comfortable.”
Home. He paused as he stared down at her.
“Home, huh?”
Her gaze flickered as though some uncomfortable thought had suddenly invaded her mind. A reminder that it wasn’t his home maybe?
He was the other man. The man holding her, fucking her, while her heart belonged to the man he had been. Fuck, he was going to have to stop this. He could finish the long, slow slide into insanity if he continued to let himself be jealous of . . . himself.
“Back to the house.” She finally shrugged. “Home is only
where you want to be, I guess. If you prefer the bed at the apartment, then that’s your choice.”
She lifted away from him, gathered her clothes from the floor of the truck, and began dressing.
“I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” He frowned at her back. Shit. He needed to get a handle on himself.
“How long do you intend to stick around, Noah?”
The question surprised him. Noah narrowed his eyes at her, aware that she was deliberately keeping her back to him.
“Do you want me to leave?”
An irritated little sniff sounded through the cab of the truck. Feminine. Filled with ire.
“Did I ask you to leave? Perhaps I’m just curious if you intend to stick around or if you have other plans anytime soon.” There was a tension in her voice that had his body tightening.
“Other plans, such as what?”
“Such as leaving.” She shrugged. “You blew into town from nowhere. Took over my life and my bed. Perhaps I’d just like to know if you’re considering more than a few one-night stands?”
She wanted commitment. Sabella wasn’t a easy lay, he had known that when he first met her. Yet, here he was, knowing when this mission finished it would be time to leave.
“There are some things I have to leave to take care of soon,” he finally warned her. He couldn’t promise her anything yet, not yet. He couldn’t promise her forever until he knew if signing his life away to the Elite Ops meant signing everything away.
Sabella closed her eyes and fought the pain. Which was worse? she wondered. Losing him to a supposed death, or having him walk away voluntarily?
The latter would hurt worse, but at least she wouldn’t wonder. She would know he was safe. Know he was alive. But that didn’t keep the anger from burning inside her like an inferno that only seemed to grow.
“I see.” She buttoned her blouse in hard, jerky movements before reaching for her panties and skirt.
“What do you see?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“You’re not future material, just a quick lay wherever you happen to be.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter.
Damn him. Damn him to hell. Fuck it. Screw it. She’d had enough of this. Enough, as of now.
She jerked her skirt on.
“Get dressed. I need to get home. I have things to do tomorrow and they don’t include lying around all day. I’ve wasted enough of my life as it is.”
“What the hell does that mean?” His voice turned cold. Stony.
She turned back to him, watching as he levered up, glaring back at her with narrowed eyes.
“Exactly what I said. I’ve spent too many years grieving for a man who didn’t love me enough to keep his ass alive and come back home to me.” She let her gaze flick disdainfully over him. “I’ll be damned if I’ll waste so much as another day on a man who doesn’t even care enough to let me know if he intends to stick around for a while.”
“Promises are for fools, Sabella,” he rasped. “You should have learned that with your husband.”
“You’re damned right. I should have.” She threw his pants at him. “There are a lot of lessons I should have learned with my husband. Starting with the fact that he was a son a bitch who obviously didn’t know how to love anything but himself and his fucking job. Lesson learned. I won’t make that same mistake with you.”
His shirt hit him in the face. “Get dressed. I’m fucked out and ready to sleep now. In my bed. Alone.”
“Like hell.”
“Hell describes it,” she muttered. “But it beats sleeping with a no-commitment asshole who doesn’t mind a bit to fuck and run. Now, take me home.”
Her eyes were dry. There were no tears. She watched as he dressed, and the bastard, he didn’t even struggle or contort to do it. He watched her with narrowed, fierce eyes.
“I’ll be sleeping in that bed with you,” he promised her. “I might be a no-commitment asshole, and a luckless son of a bitch, but don’t forget, while I’m here, you’re mine.”
She stared back at him. “Keep dreaming, Noah Blake. Because my bed is the last damned place you belong.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Noah twirled the wrench between his fingers and chewed thoughtfully at his gum as he watched Sabella two days later.
She hadn’t been joking. She’d kicked him right out of her bed, and apparently, out of her life. For now at least.
He watched her from beneath lowered lashes as he pretended to stare into the guts of the SUV he was supposed to be working on.
“You’re hard at work, huh?” Nik leaned against the fender and peered into the motor. “Need some help?”
“Sure,” Noah murmured absently. “Any word?”
Word on the DNA samples they had slipped to the bunker and Jordan had shipped out for testing. Delbert had picked up his pickup that morning. The sneering smug little turd. He’d looked at Noah as though he had crawled out of the dumb pit when Noah had informed him there was no way to juice up his motor.
Let him juice his own motor. By time the feds were finished taking that son of a bitch apart searching for the evidence Noah had left, good ole Delbert was going to be too busy to be worrying about juice.
“No word,” Nik answered. “I could use some help this evening though, if you are not busy.” They both glanced at Sabella in the office then.
She was frowning over something Toby had said.
She hadn’t braided her hair this morning. She hadn’t worked on one of the cars this morning. She’d worked in the office, done the filing, made Toby crazy as she butted in and did his job.
“I don’t appear to be busy,” he drawled, twirled the wrench and stared at the waves of dark hair framing Sabella’s face as she turned her frown to the papers on the desk.
“How did you screw up?” Nik asked then.
The wrench paused then moved deliberately through his fingers.
“Who says I screwed up?”
His wife had said it. His wife, and she’d thrown him out of his truck. Even worse, she’d thrown him out of their bed. Threatened to call the sheriff if he didn’t leave. Son of a bitch, could anybody be more tangled than he was right now?
She was right. He was slime. A bastard. A no-commitment son of a bitch who didn’t deserve to be anywhere close to her.
He threw the wrench in the toolbox at his side, hearing the clank and clatter as he jerked a greasy rag from the fender and wiped his hands quickly.
“What kind of help do you need?”
Nik scratched his jaw and looked at where Noah had thrown the wrench.
“I need to go see a friend,” Nik stated, the code smooth, rueful.
A meeting had obviously been called at the bunker.
“Hell!” Noah plowed his fingers through his hair and grimaced.
He’d have to tag Rory, put him with Sabella. After the attempt on Toby, Noah was terrified to leave her alone.
“Sorry, dude. You promised.” Nik slapped him on the shoulder. “But you know, it’s not like you can’t have your cake and eat it too. She’s a fine woman. She’d make any man an even finer wife. I’d consider that if I were you. Walk away, and someone else will step in eventually. Is that what you want?”
Noah felt his lip twitch as fury began to burn inside him. He shot the big Russian a hard look and only got a cold smile in return.
Yeah. He’d promised. It had been his fucking hand that signed the papers, giving his soul to the Elite Ops rather than returning to his wife. He’d been warned then, he could never return to his old life. There was no resignation, there was no opting out unless he was dead.
And there was no revealing who and what he was, but there was no clause that hadn’t said Noah Blake couldn’t marry or fall in love. But could he keep his Bella and remain here, in his hometown, and maintain the illusion of who he was forever?
The Elite Ops wasn’t a prison, but the consequences of breaking contract weren’t pretty. Gitmo wasn’t a place Noah wanted to be. If he revealed who he w
as, what he was, and it was learned, he could be shipped out as an enemy combatant and never be seen again.
The question was, could he remain with Sabella and never tell her he was the husband she had lost? Could he live with hating one part of himself because his wife still longed for something she thought could never return?
The jealousy was like an acrid burn in his soul, and despite his determination to keep her, Noah wondered how long he could actually stay and have that life with her while maintaining his secrets.
The wife who wasn’t a damn thing like the pretty little thing he’d left six years ago. The Sabella who had stared back at him, dry-eyed and furious, two nights before was nothing like the tender, softhearted young woman he had left when he went on that last, fateful mission.
The woman he remembered shedding tears when she saw new wounds on his body after a mission. He’d seen the horror in her eyes over a shallow knife cut. He’d seen the nightmares in her eyes when he returned, exhausted, from six to eight weeks, sometimes longer, deployed into areas he could barely pronounce the name of.
The Sabella he had known would have broken at the sight of his face, destroyed from so many beatings. His back, chest, and thighs lashed to ribbons from a whip. Starved down and so desperate to fuck he was like an animal.
He’d been like an animal for three years. Jacking off until his dick felt raw, and on the retraining missions, he’d been the demon of death. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t pull punches. He didn’t give anyone the chance to strike at him, capture him.
He’d thought his life with Sabella was over. The woman he had thought he had known couldn’t accept the man he had become.
And he’d learned he’d never known the woman he had loved. Not all the way to the bone. He’d only known what he’d wanted to see. The helpless little blonde Southern baby. Sexy and vulnerable. And so young.
It was what he had wanted to see, because seeing the strength in the core of her would have given him a clue into the future, into a woman who would have stood by him no matter how broken he had been. And his damned pride, that was it, his pride, hadn’t been able to consider the thought of Sabella ever seeing him as less than what he wanted to be in her eyes.
