“Always,” Lyra said as he pulled her panties all the way down and she kicked them aside. “You’re mine, cowboy.”
He gripped her thighs and looked up at her. The corner of his mouth turned up in that sexy grin that made her knees weak.
Dare buried his face against her, this time without the barrier of her panties. She clenched her hands in his shirt at his shoulders and cried out with pleasure. The only thing that kept her from falling was the fact that she had her hands braced on his shoulders.
Wild sensations built within her, moving down her legs, up to her belly, over her breasts, and straight to the roots of her hair. Her limbs quivered and she knew she was so close to climax that her thoughts began to spin.
She lost it. Her knees buckled and not even her hands on his shoulders could hold her up. Sparks were shooting through her body and she’d never felt so much heat. She was on fire.
Lyra found herself on her knees facing Dare. He clasped her hips as she continued to tremble, and he kissed her. Just the gentleness of his kiss and the feel of his hands on her hips made her orgasm continue until she finally stopped shaking.
“Dare.” She collapsed against him, her head to his chest, his shirt abrading her nipples.
They were still kneeling as he rubbed his hands up and down her bare skin at her sides and her back. “You’re even more beautiful when you climax. I wish you could see yourself.”
“Mmmmm,” was all Lyra could get out at that moment.
When her breathing and the pounding of her heart slowed, she looked up at Dare. “Your turn. I want your clothes off.”
“So do I.” He kissed her, then drew her up so that they were both standing.
She unbuttoned his western shirt, forcing herself to take it as slow as Dare had. It was so hard when what she really wanted to do was rip his clothes off and have him inside of her. She moved her hands up his solid chest and lightly traced the wound on his shoulder. He caught her hand and held it to the scar, and they looked at each other for a long moment.
She moved their hands away from the spot and pressed her lips along the scar. She began to trail her fingers over his chest, loving the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips.
Dare held his breath as the beautiful naked woman before him rubbed her palms over his chest, her hands exploring him. Her eyes were dark and smoky as she raised her head to push his shirt over his shoulders. It slid down his arms, and he let it drop to the floor.
Lyra’s palms skimmed his biceps to his forearms and wrists, then back up again until her hands were flat at each of his sides, on his rib cage. She ran her fingers over his abs at the same time she leaned closer and licked his nipple. The sensation of her warm tongue on him went straight through his chest to his groin. She tasted each nipple, and the cool air made the tiny nubs harder when she moved her mouth and tongue away. He’d never realized his own flat nipples could be erogenous zones, but the way Lyra was flicking her tongue over them and sucking—it about made him come unglued.
She kissed her way from his chest, slowly trailing her tongue through the fine sprinkling of hair. She licked and nipped at him from his abs to the waist of his Wranglers. She knelt and surprised him by reaching around him, grabbing his ass, and squeezing both cheeks.
“You have such a nice ass,” she murmured, and he would have laughed if his erection weren’t straining so hard against his jeans that it actually hurt.
Her focus was totally on her task as he watched her lick the skin around his navel. She dipped her tongue inside and he groaned. A rush of pleasure radiated from his navel to his groin.
Lyra slid her fingers around his waistband until she reached his belt buckle. She abandoned his navel to lean back just enough to unfasten the buckle and pull the belt from the loops of his Wranglers. She tossed it aside to clunk on the wooden floor, then slid her palms down one pant leg to his boot.
“We’ve got to get these off,” she said as she looked up at him and their eyes met.
She was so beautiful, especially with her hair tousled, her lips swollen from their kisses, and her body bare of any clothing.
“Hold on,” he said, his voice husky with need for her.
He braced his hands on her shoulders as he toed off each boot, then kicked them aside. Lyra smiled and pushed up one pant leg and eased his sock down over his heel and then his toes. She tickled the bottom of his foot and grinned up at him when he said in a mock warning tone, “Lyra…”
Damn, he hadn’t even known he was ticklish. She teased him again as she drew off his other sock and threw it on top of the first.
When his boots and socks were off, she reached for the button on his Wranglers and fought with it a bit before it came undone. He could breathe again as she unzipped his jeans and his erection was no longer bound by the stiff material.
“I love your thighs,” she said as she pushed his pants and underwear down his legs to his calves and feet and he kicked them off.
When he was naked, he grasped Lyra by the shoulders and drew her up with him. “I can’t get enough of you.” He pressed his lips to her hair and held her by her waist as he brought her up with him to stand.
Lyra melted against him and sighed as she slipped her arms around his neck. She tilted her head up and he brushed his lips over hers.
“I’m ready for more, Dare,” she said against his mouth. “I want this night to last forever.”
He moved his lips from hers as he pushed his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head. “We have all the time in the world.”
Lyra eased one of her hands from his neck, to his abdomen, and wrapped her hand around his length.
“When it comes to you,” he said as she trailed her fingers up and down him, “I can’t get enough.”
“A little less talk,” she said as she flicked her tongue over his nipple again, “and a lot more action.”
Dare laughed at her teasing, but it turned into a groan as she caught his nipple with her teeth. He brought his fingers from her hair, pinched her nipples, and she groaned in return.
He took her by the hand and led her to the bed. Lyra eased onto the comforter on her back, her head on a downy soft pillow, her knees slightly bent. Dare gave her a look that made her feel beautiful and wanted…and loved. He climbed onto the bed and moved over her.
Crazy zinging sensations shot through her belly as he looked down at her. “I want to be inside you so bad I can hardly stand it,” he said as their eyes met.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. “We haven’t talked about children.”
“Dare?” Her belly started going a little crazy. “You want—you want children. Now?”
“With you, more than anything.” He stared down at her and smiled.
“Me, too.” She returned his smile. “Make love to me. Just like this. Nothing between us.”
Dare slid inside her, deep enough to make her cry out with pleasure as he immediately hit a sweet spot inside her.
He held himself for a moment, his eyes closed. “You feel like heaven wrapped around me.”
Lyra remained still beneath him, enjoying the sensations.
He opened his eyes and their gazes locked again. She couldn’t get enough of those eyes, his strong features, and that stubble along his jawline. Everything about him was strong and virile, from the power of his muscular body to the way he took control and did whatever he could to protect her, to save her. Yet he made her feel strong, too.
Dare began a slow rhythm, never taking his eyes from hers. Lyra’s body flushed with heat from head to toe as she felt every movement of their bodies as they rocked together. He took her hands and laced his fingers with hers, pressing her engagement ring tight against her finger. He drew her arms high over her head before beginning that slow, steady rhythm within her again.
“I could stay like this, wrapped up inside you.” He raised his head and brushed his lips over hers. “I can’t tell you how much I love you.”
His words sent such a thrill through Lyra that it pushed her closer to a climax she knew she’d never forget.
“I never thought I’d find somebody to love until you.” She gave a soft moan. “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”
Dare gave her his sexy grin. “You mean you’re mine.”
“Whatever,” she said in a teasing voice, then grew more serious. “Just make love to me.”
Sparks ignited a heat that radiated throughout her body. Her skin tingled and she felt as if electricity was zipping from her navel to where they were joined. A climax began to build within her.
She felt it from her head to her toes and she began to tremble, she was so close, so very close to the edge. “I’m going to come, Dare.”
“Do it, honey.” He pushed her to that very peak that she was about to tumble over. “Let me see you come.”
Lyra felt like she was one tingling mass of nerves. She shook so hard as her orgasm rocked her body that she clenched her thighs tight around Dare’s hips, as if that would ground her. Because she was flying. Flying in a sky filled with stars and brilliant white light.
It never seemed to end, and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to.
Dare looked down at Lyra, watched her body flush dark pink and her throat work as she shouted her release. Her body trembled beneath his.
He ground his teeth to keep from flying over the precipice so that he could watch Lyra as she came.
“Dare.” She shook but met his every thrust. “Come inside me. Now.”
He felt like an explosion rocked him as he came. He squeezed their laced fingers as his body trembled. He moved until he couldn’t take one bit more.
Dare collapsed onto his side, drawing Lyra with him. They both were breathing hard and her breasts moved against his chest.
When his breathing slowed, he brushed his lips over hers and drew back.
“You found me,” she said with a smile.
He squeezed her to him. “And I’m never going to let you go.”
Excerpt: Ruthless
1
Shaking the devil's hand
March 27
Wednesday morning
* * *
The harshness of the heat presses down on me. Sweat slips from my forehead, drips over my brow, and into my eyes. Can’t move to wipe the sweat away. Can’t blow my cover. I don’t even dare blink as I site my target through the scope of my Ml 6. My spotter, Keets, remains as motionless as I do.
The mission is its own version of hell. Ever since we landed in Nigeria, a crawling sensation along my spine has told me that something’s off about this whole setup. Something desperately wrong.
When I told Captain Williams, the bastard blew me off. He doesn't like the fact I’m one of the first women snipers in the history of the US Army. And I’m damned good at what I do—
Killing terrorists, saving American lives.
Captain Williams—what a dick. But a soldier follows orders.
My spotter, Keets, gives me the signal that I’ve got the best shot possible.
Target in my sights. I squeeze the trigger of my M16.
At the same time, Keets gets some chatter over his comm. He shouts, “Wait!”
But it’s too late. I see the spurt, the telltale arc of blood from my target’s forehead before he goes down.
One shot. One kill.
My heart thunders as I look at Keets, who says, “Oh, shit.”
Something has gone horribly, horribly wrong.
I’m running.
Bars—I’m behind bars. Everything’s so close. Tight. Damp. Pain riddles my body and I can barely keep consciousness. I’ve been beaten so badly I have a hard time grasping what’s real and what’s not. Was I captured? I was following orders. What happened to my team? What happened to Keets?
The pit of hell. How long have I been here? Why am I here?
The urge to claw my way out of the pit makes my arms and fingers ache as if I’ve already tried.
Oh, God, not again. The whip draws blood through my shredded camouflage and I try not to scream. The pain—I hold onto it, make it a part of me, pretend I want it. If I don’t, they’ll break me.
Fists slam into my face, my temples, my belly, even my breasts. I want to scream but I make my mind retreat into a private place where I embrace the pain.
Four men, maybe five surround me. Huge men. Their faces, so dark, so shadowed. Are they human? Their forms sway and distort.
One man steps forward, but I still can’t make out his features.
Fear tears through me. Fear like I’ve never felt before. Fear worse than the agony threatening to cripple me. The man—he’s the one. The one to introduce me to pain like I’ve never known.
I don’t have the strength to recoil as he slides his palm down the side of my face, through the blood running down my cheek. What is he going to do to me now? Put a cloth sack over my head again, nearly smothering me? Then submerge my face in a water tank until I nearly drown? Shock me with electricity a second time while I’m soaking wet and feeling half dead already?
“Now will you?” he says in a tone that tells me he’s ready to dose out every bit of torture all over again.
Can I survive any more of this?
“Will you?” His voice is harsher, angrier, and I know I’ve lost.
Tears flow down my cheeks, mixing with my blood as I force myself to say those horrible words.
“Yes. God, yes.”
* * *
I woke with a hard jerk. Heat seared my chest. My heart was beating so hard it felt as if someone was kicking my ribcage from inside. Cloth bound my legs and wrapped my body like a giant python. The more I struggled the tighter it got.
I was back in hell. I would do anything to be free. Anything. My bindings grew tighter. My breathing became more frantic. I kicked and kicked while clawing at my bindings.
The taste of salt was on my lips and in my mouth from sweat dripping down my face. I scraped my own arm and felt the sting when my nails raked my skin.
I gasped. Arched my back. Opened my eyes.
Reality hit my consciousness. I was in my room. My own room. I wasn’t tied with rope while being beaten in that dark cell. I wasn’t attempting to force myself into that dark corner of my mind where I tried to pretend that pain was pleasure to escape the agony.
Cloth, soaked with perspiration, bound me. I was tangled in my own sheet. Sweat slicked my damp palms as I rubbed my face. I pushed back my chin-length dark hair that was plastered against my cheeks.
My face grew hot then cold. Over the years I’d been beaten, stabbed, and shot so often that I’d developed a coping mechanism that helped me focus—trying to turn pain to pleasure to escape what my body was going through. But having the shit beat out of me wasn’t optimum for that kind of mental retreat.
Acid burned my throat as I held back the urge to throw up.
Moving air from the ceiling fan cooled my sweating body as I kicked the damp sheets the rest of the way off. I stared at the ceiling. It needed a new coat of paint. I’d have to let Marty, my super, know.
The nightmare was nothing new. The nightmare that would probably never leave me.
The mission gone wrong
My so-called court-martial.
The prison.
The beatings.
The ultimatum and later the killings.
Was it even possible to atone for my sins?
The nightmares, my past…No one at the Recovery Enforcement Division would believe that I wasn’t nearly as strong on the inside as I am on the outside. The other RED agents think my last name suits me. Steele. All they know is that Lexi Steele can totally kick ass. As a Team Supervisor for the Human Trafficking and Sex Crimes Division of RED, I have to be tough. And that’s not a problem. Not at all.
It’s when I have to acknowledge the past and all of those nameless, faceless people I’d assassinated, that I unravel inside.
I wished Gary was here. He’d tuck me against his big,
hard body, kiss me on the top of my head, and tell me to go back to sleep. It didn’t chase away all of the bad things I’d done, but it was so much better than lying there, shivering in the dark.
I’d met Gary at a Red Sox game a couple of years ago, and I loved his big, hot muscular body and the way he held me, kissed me, made love to me. Gary was wicked hot.
He liked my petite frame and had said how amazed he was that dynamite came in a small, five-foot-four package. He always said how much he loved green eyes too, and would slip his fingers through the silkiness of my dark hair that I kept shoulder length. He always said I was beautiful and I told him he was delusional. Well, I’m not bad looking and I do have my moments.
Unfortunately, his bodybuilder competitions and my job as an undercover operative often kept us from spending time together.
It was so difficult not to tell Gary the truth—that I wasn’t really a foreign language interpreter, although I do speak several languages.
Keeping my true career hidden from everyone in my big, messy, Boston Irish family was probably the hardest. No one had any idea except for one of my five brothers, Zane, who was an undercover RED agent, too.
My friends and neighbors—of course they had no clue about what I really did.
Sometimes I didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all—having to lie to everyone but Zane because I had no choice. As a special agent for RED, a clandestine branch of the NSA, I lived a secret life.
RED was an offshoot of the National Security Agency (NSA) that only a short list of bureaucrats knew existed: RED’s Director; the Deputy Director; a federal judge; a federal prosecutor; the head of the NSA; Senator Jeannette Shelton; and the President. Not even the VP or his cabinet members knew we existed.
And definitely no other branch of law enforcement or civilians had a clue we were protecting them, saving countless American lives.
But that hadn’t been the case up until five years ago. Prior to that I’d been a killing machine. An assassin who didn’t even know the names of her targets or why she was killing them.
Chosen Prey Page 24
