by Karen Rock
Jamal’s gun and phone clattered to the floor, his face contorted, a mask of hate.
“On the ground!” Ryan approached, Glock at eye level.
Erica choose that moment to sit up, clutching her head. “Whaaat?” Her wide eyes darted between him and Jamal.
Momentarily distracted, he missed Jamal’s charge, a straight headlong rush like a fighting stag’s. Jamal slammed into Ryan full-force, and the impact knocked Ryan’s Glock from his grasp. His feet skidded backward. Then he went down hard. Pain howled in his wrist when he landed on it.
Something metal glinted in Jamal’s hand. A lethally sharp blade arced through the air. Ryan rolled to the side, and the knife missed his chest, carving through his jacket sleeve instead. Cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck.
That was close.
Ryan pushed off the ground, lurching toward Jamal. He ducked under Jamal’s arm as he swung the knife down again. Ryan spun around, planting his foot in Jamal’s back. The knife flew from Jamal’s grip, and he went down on one knee. He sprang to his feet, wheeled around, and went for Ryan again.
He didn’t get far.
Shooting forward, Ryan whipped his arm back and swung it around. The smack of his fist connecting with Jamal’s jaw echoed through the building and filled him with dark satisfaction.
Jamal stumbled back, blood seeping out of the split in his mouth. He turned wild eyes on Ryan as he raised a trembling hand to his mouth. From the corner of his eye, Ryan glimpsed Erica wobble to her feet, Jamal’s gun in hand.
“On the ground!” she shout-whispered, her voice hoarse, her face leached of color.
If she was feeling any pain, she hid it.
What an agent.
What a woman.
Outnumbered, Jamal spun on his heel, taking off as if the very devil chased him. Adrenaline streaked through Ryan’s veins. This asshole was not escaping. Ryan scooped up his Glock and leapt after Jamal. Firing rounds in quick succession, he blew out the rear window of the sedan but missed the tires as it peeled off into the night.
He glanced at his Harley, then back to Erica, who’d sunk to her knees, head in hand.
Fine.
Jamal could run.
Erica came first.
He flew to her side, plunged to his knees, and scrutinized her bleeding arm. “Where else are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she croaked, but the words barely registered.
Pulse raging, he ran his shaking hand over her, searching for other injuries, the warmth and wetness of blood. He didn’t stop until Erica grasped his uninjured wrist, pulling his hand away. “Ryan, I’m okay.” Despite her bravado, her voice was thick and edged with pain.
His heart pounded in a sickening way. For a few horrific minutes, he’d believed he’d lost her. His protective urges reared up, and he gathered her close. “Why the hell didn’t you listen to me? You could have been shot. Tortured. Killed.”
Erica averted her face. “The mission matters more than I do.”
Tucking his finger beneath her chin, he turned her back to face him. “Not to me. If anything happened to you I would have—” He fought for the words to express himself.
“You would have…?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him.
Died, too.
Whoa. Why the hell would he think something so crazy?
Because he hadn’t thought it, came the instant answer. He’d felt it. It was the only way to describe the black pit that’d opened inside him when he’d believed he might have lost her. It was the same darkness that’d possessed him since she’d walked out of his life two years ago.
Ryan pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His hands curled around her knees. “I’m getting your arm fixed up, and then you’re going back to civilian life.”
Erica shook her head and winced, instantly arousing his concern. “Not a chance.”
“You disobeyed my orders to get back in the car. That’s grounds for dismissal.”
Her tremulous smile sent his heart free-falling in his chest. “I’m not an agent; I’m an asset and don’t have to follow your orders. Besides, if not for me, we wouldn’t have gotten a break in the investigation. Did you recognize that guy?”
He picked her up, set her on her feet, and guided her back to the Harley. “Jamal…”
“Jamal Muhammad al-Harbi.” Excitement lofted her voice up another octave. “Khalid’s nephew. He’s a lower lieutenant in Jabhat al-Nusra. Ryan. Do you know what this means?”
Understanding settled in his gut, heavy and dark. He stared deep into her blazing blue eyes. “It means al-Nusra’s here…and planning an attack.”
Chapter 8
The morning breeze wafting through Erica’s window carried the luxurious, floral scents of summer. From the branches of a nearby pear tree, bluebirds sang to the strengthening sun. She eased open one eye, then the next, her senses returning. Memories, too. After Jamal’s escape, Ryan had raced her to the ER, where she’d received stitches in her arm and care instructions for a concussion. Later, he’d carried her to her bed, where she’d dozed in his arms, waking every two hours when he’d stroked her face to check on her condition.
The same warm arms wrapped around her now, easing her back to fit more snuggly against the firm planes of his chest, his hips, his legs. Her nose picked up his delicious masculine scent, and lust clutched her. She felt his desire hard against her bottom, and a thrill shuddered through her.
If not for him, she would have died last night.
He swept her hair from her face and spoke into her ear. “How are you feeling?” His voice was deep and carried an undercurrent of passion.
“Better. Headache’s gone.” She turned and slid her hands beneath his shirt and up his muscular chest, memorizing the feel of him. How good he felt. How right.
She still hadn’t forgiven him for his role in destroying her career, wouldn’t open her scarred heart to him again, but right now, the need to possess him trumped all. He’d saved her life and she wanted to live it, to appreciate her inflating lungs, her still-beating heart, and the hungry rush of passion flaming inside her.
“Are you sure? I could get you some aspirin?”
She kicked off the suffocating covers. “There’s only one thing I need right now.”
Everything outside the room ceased to exist as his golden eyes blazed into hers. Heat, low and hard, started simmering in her center.
He caught her questing hands. “Erica,” he rasped, and the sound curled her toes. “We need to think this through.”
“No more thinking. Let’s savor this moment. Enjoy the now. Last night might have robbed us of it, and I want to feel.” He loosened his grip, and her hands slid over his muscular ass. “I want to feel you.”
He drank in the details of her bandaged arm, the length of her neck, the V between her breasts, down to her tank top riding up along her rib cage. “I almost lost you.”
She stopped breathing as his hands spanned her waist. Yearning and hunger flooded her until every part of her body felt like a live wire. “Thank you for saving my ass last night.”
“It’s a very fine ass.” His hands slid to the curve of her butt and pressed lightly. Erica’s nerves caught fire. “But I was just doing my job, ma’am.”
“Sure that’s all it was?”
His grip tightened. “No,” he confessed, his voice low and gravelly. “Not even goddamn close.” His eyes were so intense it almost scared her. This side of him, one she’d only glimpsed when they’d made love, was incredibly sensual and powerful. It literally swept out of him. It obliterated his normal, rational, logical, by-the-books self.
Years of wanting him, missing him, needing him, rushed forward. She slid her hands to his abs and ran them up his chest. His skin was hot, and his heart thundered against her palms.
; He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “God, you’re beautiful. I haven’t been able to think about anything else—but this—since I saw you at Dallas Heat.”
A sigh escaped her, mingling with Ryan’s ragged breath. “Me neither.”
Red pooled beneath his high cheekbones, and his full lips curled in a sexy smile. He. Was. Gorgeous. He framed her face with his hands and captured her mouth with his.
Ryan’s kisses were like a force unto themselves. His arms engulfed her as he explored every bit of her mouth with deep, lush strokes of his tongue. He didn’t just kiss her; he consumed her, claimed her with unspoken promises of so much more.
A shiver trotted down her spine at where they were heading. How vulnerable she was about to be with the man who’d broken her heart. Destroyed her career. But right now, she wanted Ryan. Wanted him on her, in her, beside her. Wanted to breathe him into her and never exhale. Now. In this moment. And that’s all she’d let herself think and feel.
She hooked her finger into the waist of the dress slacks he’d kept on last night. Her nerves eased, until she glanced at Ryan and their gazes clicked. His eyes were glazed and full of smoky desire and passion. The air between them practically waved with heat.
He lowered his lips to her neck and trailed kisses to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Her lashes drifted to her cheeks. A tingling hummed along her skin and spread to the tops of her breasts, a sweet ache moving through her. It drove her a little wild. With shaking hands, she plucked at the buttons on his shirt until it opened to expose hard planes of tanned flesh.
His mouth moved lower, and she arched back, wanting, craving, more of him. When his lips touched the top of her breast, she practically went limp against his body, his warm, wet lips intoxicating her, rendering her drunk and woozy. She slid her hands to his zipper and cupped his shaft.
A deep grunt signaled his appreciation before his lips rose to hers again, kissing her long and deep, possessing her. He hooked his fingers in the sides of the tank top and tugged it off, leaving her naked save for her black thong. Lying beside him, her breasts bare while he was still clothed, should have made her vulnerable and nervous. Instead, she was empowered and wildly excited.
“Erica,” he said roughly. “You’re driving me insane.”
He filled his palms with her breasts and brushed his thumbs over her nipples, breathing as hard as she was. Her nerve endings danced under his touch, as if all feeling concentrated wherever his hands went. When he brought his mouth to her nipple, she dug her fingers into his back to keep from collapsing with the intensity of his hot, wet tongue.
Then he lowered his forehead between her breasts and just breathed her in.
Erica stilled.
Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.
He lifted his head, and their eyes met. A piece of the world slipped away. She knew—or thought she knew—every one of Ryan’s expressions. Every one but this one. It was open, vulnerable, passionate, and something she couldn’t name…something that squeezed her heart and burned her lungs.
“This is moving fast. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
“Me? I’m made of Kevlar,” she scoffed.
One side of his mouth kicked up. “True. But I’m not giving you time to think,” he insisted, the strain of holding back sharpening his features. A vein pulsed at the base of his neck. “A relationship between us isn’t possible.”
“Let’s focus on now.” She stroked his rock-hard length. “And worry about later…later.”
His smile was so genuine and full of emotion it momentarily stopped her heart. “In other words, get the fuck out of my head?”
“Something like that.”
He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “We’ll talk later.”
“Much later.” She twined her fingers through his hair. God, she loved his hair. “I’ve wanted this from the moment you came backstage. Since I first met you in Cairo. Since all the times in between.”
His eyes darkened to amber, his gaze locked on her, penetrating her as if he were committing every bit of her soul to memory. Then his giant hands clamped around her hips, and he dropped his mouth to the curve of her waist, kissing his way down to her navel then lower still….
Oh God.
Erica gasped another breath and arched her back, unable to remain still as white-hot sensations raced through her. He kissed her inner thigh, sliding his tongue all the way up until he licked her through the damp material between her legs, teasing, tasting. The light brushing against her swollen sex made her dizzy and wet.
“Mm.” He hooked his fingers in her thong and slid it all the way off, then ran his hands from her ankles up to her thighs, pausing at the red curls between them to blow lightly. She let out a small moan. Lifting her leg, he bent it over his shoulder and flicked his tongue over her tiny, sensitive spot before sucking it into his mouth.
Her body strained off the bed with the unexpected shock of pleasure, but he held her still with his hands and pushed his face between her thighs, running his tongue along her pink flesh. His mouth felt incredible. So warm and wet that her legs went weak, her flesh quivering. As he licked her, he slid a finger into the slick heat of her entrance.
“O-o-h!” she cried when he entered her. The sensation was so erotic, she wanted it to last forever. But each moment of satisfaction led to new hunger, her sensual need spiraling higher and higher. Her limbs started to shake, and she gripped the back of his head.
The pleasure built. Coiled. Tensed. Built some more as he worked her, fast and deep, until her inner muscles clamped down on his finger, her hips shooting off the bed. Then he pulled his finger out, his tongue leaving her quivering bud, and began to kiss her stomach, his hands sliding around her waist.
The need for him to taste her again, to bring her back to near climax, made it impossible to breathe. She fisted her hands in the sheets. His hands whispered up her sides to cup her breasts, his gentleness, the possessive look in his eyes firing her need. He kneaded her breasts as he lightly nipped her hip. Then he left a trail of kisses over her pelvis, down the thigh he still had bent over his shoulder.
Just as her body started to relax, he brought his fingers to her core again, sliding two in then slowly pulling them out, bit by bit, spreading them like tiny scissors.
“Ryan. Please.” Oh God! He was driving her insane. She ground against his hand, all inhibition flying out the window. She just needed to feel him. Any of him. All of him.
He silenced her by licking a circle around her clit, sucking it gently and then harder as his fingers worked their magic, stroking her into a frenzy. Sensations rushed through her, her arousal intensifying as he took her up, up, up to the edge. He sealed his mouth over her center as her orgasm ripped through her.
“Oh, my God….” Lights exploded behind her closed lids. Electricity seared her skin. She didn’t think the orgasm would ever end—and, God, she hoped it wouldn’t—as her head flailed from side to side.
Every muscle was on fire, until finally, her hips fell, spent, to the mattress, and she let out a long, heated breath. She panted for air as Ryan pressed feathery soft kisses to her inner thighs and around her swollen, pulsating sex.
“Ryan…” She reached for him, her eyes still closed, and sank her fingers into his clipped hair. When she opened her eyes, Ryan captured her lips in a needful kiss. Her juices were still on his mouth, and the decadence made her squirm. She pushed at his shirt, wanting it off. Wanting him naked. Wanting him inside her.
“What, sweetheart?” he growled softly. He pulled off his shirt, and her hands immediately caressed his shoulders, his broad chest, before he slid off the bed to remove his slacks.
“I need you.”
Naked, he was a sight to behold. Layers of muscle roped together, every inch of him sleekly molded. The tip of his stiff cock quivered slightly against his navel. For some stupid reason, tear
s sprang to her eyes at the remembered feel of him inside her, the profound connection, awaiting her. Every part of him was beautiful, strong and masculine.
Insanely sexy.
And you’re finally mine again. Where you belong. Where we both belong.
“Tell me.” He moved like a panther, sleek and powerful, as he came down between her legs and ran his hands up her hips, along her waist, and under her arms, finally curling his strong hands around her shoulders. “Tell me what you want,” he coaxed, grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging her head back so his lips could trace her open neck.
“I want you inside me.” She wriggled her hips until she felt the tip of his arousal pressed against her wet center. “Please.”
“Condom.” Frustration flashed in his eyes as he lifted off her. “I didn’t—I don’t…”
“Nightstand,” she gasped, pointing.
His eyes burned a brilliant gold, frustration replaced with fierce heat. He reached across to open the drawer and retrieve a foil-wrapped package. Hands shaking, he rolled it down his cock and was nudging her sensitive folds within seconds.
She reared up, digging her nails into his back. “Please,” she whimpered.
“You don’t have to ask for what’s yours.” His cock rubbed against her flesh, and their mouths met hungrily. He kissed her sensually, running his tongue slowly along her teeth, exploring the roof of her mouth and meeting each stroke of her tongue with his as his tip teased her opening, in and out, in and out.
Erica practically clawed at his back to try to clench herself around him, wanting more of him, much more.
“You feel amazing.” The ache between her legs turned sharp, and her hips strained to get closer.
He answered by spreading her thighs with one of his own, providing counterpressure to the sweet need inside her. “You’re beautiful.”
He cupped her bottom, drawing her close while at the same time plunging deep into her in one smooth, hard motion. Erica let out a small cry—a mix of surprise, pleasure, and the slightest discomfort. Sweet Jesus, he felt good.
