Mettle: (Spartan Riders #2)

by J.C. Valentine

  Her heart thudded against her ribcage. “So what, kisses are your form of a continental breakfast? Parting gift, perhaps?”

  He chuckled, sending a breeze of warmth skating across her ear. The sound of it was the finest symphony she’d ever heard. “You’re an easy girl to like, Talia.”

  “I could almost say the same thing about you,” she said breathily.

  “Almost?” Pulling his face back so he could look into her eyes, he seemed almost amused rather than upset, as she would have expected. Most men would have taken her comment as a slight. But not Mr. Confidence, apparently. “I wonder what I can do to make that a definite.”

  Talia wasn’t given a chance to utter another word, because his mouth was suddenly on hers, kissing them all away.

  Unsure how to respond—should she push him away or pull him closer?—everything except her lips remained immobile. It was physically impossible not to kiss him back. He was great at it. Had he been her first kiss, he’d have ruined her for all others. Hell, he might have already done that, between the sex and his mouth…yeah. She was in danger of losing herself.

  On that note, Talia braced her hands against his chest—his firm, muscular chest—and shoved him away…and got the feeling that he only moved by choice and not because all those pullups and pushups she forced herself to perform each morning had made her into a trimmed down version of Superwoman.

  “I think you should go,” Talia informed him.

  “Why? It’s not as if you’re married—wait, are you?” He glanced around her apartment as if looking for someone. Then his perusal slowed, becoming more assessing. His whistle was long and impressively robust. “This is a damn nice place you have here. What do you do again?”

  His gaze swung back to her, and Talia swallowed. Somehow, writer just didn’t seem like a good enough cover story, but what choice did she have? It’d already been put out there, and she couldn’t risk being exposed over a detail like that.

  “I’m a writer.” Author sounded better. “I’m an author,” she revised, her voice stronger the second time.

  His brow arched up into his hairline. “Must be a damn good one to afford a place like this. What’s it run you, one, two grand?”

  “Something like that.” Just like politics, money talk was a topic to avoid. Especially when she had no idea what an apartment like hers ran. It wasn’t as if she paid the bills. “So,” she said, clapping her hands together and smiling brightly, “I have to get to work.”

  “Yeah? What kind of story are you working on?”

  Again with the swallowing. What was it with all the questions? It felt more like an interrogation. She could feel the heat crawling up the back of her neck, the sweat forming along her hairline and under her arms. Was this what criminals felt like when they were brought in for questioning?

  She said the first thing that popped into her head. “Romance. I’m writing, uh, a romance novel.” No, shit. Hadn’t she told Gabby that it was a thriller? Or was it a suspense? She couldn’t remember. Panic filled her lungs, making them feel tight, as if they’d shriveled up to the size of her fist. She’d never forgotten a detail before. If she blew her cover over something so stupid, Ingram would have her badge faster than she could snap her fingers.

  Thankfully, Tuck didn’t react as if he knew any better, which meant that he hadn’t talked to Gabby. She sucked in a deep breath. What a relief! As long as the two never had reason to compare notes, then it wouldn’t be a problem. Hopefully. God willing.

  “I love romance novels.”

  Talia’s eye opened wide. “You do?”

  “Sure. I mean, I know a lot of men probably think they’re only for women, and I know the guys back at the compound would probably laugh me right out of the place if they knew, but I have always had the notion that reading a romance story is like holding the golden ticket in the palm of your hands. It’s a window to understanding women better.”

  Interesting. Talia’s limbs relaxed, and she carried herself over to the sofa, watching as Tuck perused a desk that’d been set up for her, complete with laptop and a cup full of pens and markers. There was even a stack of sticky notes. It was all too neat and tidy, however. Thankfully, Tuck didn’t seem to notice that either.

  “How does it help you understand us?”

  “Well, for starters, it’s like a guide to what women want.”

  “Which is…”

  “To be loved. Accepted. Cherished. A woman wants to know that the man can’t live without her, that she’s the only person he will ever want or need.”

  “And you don’t think that can happen?”

  “The opposite, actually. I think if a man really loves a woman, the rest of the world ceases to exist.”

  Instantly, she thought of Gabby. Now there was a woman in love with her man, and Blake was a man in love with his woman. It’d only taken seeing them together once for her to recognize true love. She’d doubted its existence up until that point, but now that she’d witnessed firsthand the look of two people who would do absolutely anything for each other, she was a believer once again.

  “What else did you learn from romance novels?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  Crossing the room, Tuck sat down beside her, his expression soft and more open than she’d ever seen on anyone. “I learned that women are just as soft and gentle and loving creatures as they can be fierce and loyal and independent. Men tend to think that women are complicated puzzles that are impossible to solve, but I think women just want security and support, to know that at the end of the day, someone has their back.”

  God, he was the most perfect man she’d ever met.

  “Thank you.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, did I say that out loud?”

  Tuck’s grin was mesmerizing. “You definitely did, but I’ll pretend you didn’t if it’ll keep you from passing out. Breathe, Talia.” He began rubbing her back in fat circles.

  It was then she realized she was close to hyperventilating. Not so much because of the admission but because it could have been something much worse. She needed to watch her mouth before it got her into trouble she couldn’t talk her way out of.

  It took some time, but eventually she got back to breathing normally again. “I’m so humiliated,” she admitted, hiding her face behind her hands. She had to keep telling herself that she was only this upset because of what could have happened and not because she was really starting to like this guy. “I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

  “Like what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Talia laughed at his picture of innocence. He even wore goofball well. “Well, if you’re going to pretend nothing happened, then I’m going to join you. Would you care to stay for a drink?” She rose up from the couch, and he followed.

  “I thought you said you had work to do.”

  She laughed nervously, telling herself to pull it together. Leading the way into the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator to see what she had to offer. “I do, but it can wait a while. Besides, I’m not sure I’m up for much work today.” God, what was she saying? What was she doing? Inviting him deeper into her life when she knew her intentions weren’t entirely pure? It was hard to admit, but she knew that she wasn’t just asking him to stay because she wanted to glean as much information from him as she could. That might have been how it started out between them, but now, selfishly, she wanted more.

  Was she ashamed of herself? You bet.

  Was she going to back down and ignore what she wanted? Not a chance.

  Talia might be attracted to Tuck, she might have more eggs in the basket than she’d intended to put into it, but she wasn’t going to let her work suffer in the pursuit of physical wants and needs. She was a professional and as such, was capable of focusing on two objectives at once.

  “In that case, I’d love to.” Sliding in behind her, Tucker wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her back against him, bending with her to look inside the fridge
. The move played on all her inner musings like a perfectly tuned fiddle, as if to reinforce her decision. When he reached past her and took out two bottles of Evian, she trembled. “If I’m hanging around, we’re going to need to stay hydrated.”

  Her. Blood. Was. On. Fire. Turning in his arms, Talia tilted her head back so she could look into his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, alrighty then. Sounds like it’s time to shut it down!” she shouted. Having the apartment outfitted with cameras had never been an issue before, but there was no way on God’s green earth was she letting a van full of agents see her naked ass.

  Tucker was frowning. “So you don’t want to…”

  “No! No, I do. I definitely do.” She patted the air. Realized she looked like a crazy person and pressed herself against him instead. Up close, she could see the golden flecks in his caramel colored eyes, along with shots of pale green, like a starburst. “What I meant to say was let’s get things started.”

  “So eager.” Looping his arm around her waist, Tucker pulled her in tighter, allowing her to feel his erection pressing against her navel. “I like it. Where’s the bedroom? Unless you prefer the couch? Or maybe the counter? I’m totally flexible.”

  So many options. Unfortunately, the only place Talia could be certain the cameras weren’t watching was the bedroom. She pointed in its direction. “Through there.”

  Grinning like a cat with a bowl of milk, Tucker carried the water bottles in one hand and held hers in the other.

  Her room was just as expensively outfitted as the rest of the apartment when it came to the cost of materials and the level of quality of the furniture, but when it came to style, it was much more subdued than the rest of the place.

  The difference was that it was Talia’s personal space and the one place she could retreat to truly relax. She’d read somewhere that the bedroom should be treated as a sanctuary in order to foster a calm mind and help reduce everyday stressors, which would lead to good sleep and all around better frame of mind.

  Since she always got a full eight hours and could honestly say that her tension eased the minute her toes sunk into the carpet, she had to believe there was something to it.

  A Ficus stood proud between three bay windows, surrounded by two club chairs that she alternated between using for reading and to prop her feet on. The bed was a standard queen with an antique iron frame that’d been painted white and then destressed in places to expose the ironwork underneath. The predominate color in the room was Robin’s egg blue with spots of yellow and touches of red sprinkled here and there to create pops of color.

  It was a no-fuss space that always made her feel at home in a place that was far from it. Just another way that her job was different from everyone else’s: whereas most people worked an eight-hour shift and called it a day, she literally lived her job most days, so she rarely got to leave work behind at the end of the day. It was a reality that rarely bothered her, but when the occasion did arise, it was a struggle to remind herself why she’d chosen the profession and how much she enjoyed it.

  “I like your style,” Tuck praised as he took the lead, heading straight for the bed with her in tow. “It’s surprisingly masculine.”

  He was referring to the choice of furniture: bulky dark grain woods mixed with metalwork and plain beige fabrics. Very basic, very streamline. No doubt, the women he usually spent his time with were all about the usual pink and floral with ruffles routine girls were taught to like. Bleh. She had never been the type to conform to societal norms.

  “Thanks.” She wished she could say that she’d decorated it herself, but that would be a lie, and given the way he seemed to look straight through her most of the time, she wasn’t even going to go there.

  “Okay, so how do you want to do this?” he asked. Setting the bottles down on the side table, taking care to use the coasters she kept in every room, he turned to face her.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” How to do what? Whatever it was, she knew he couldn’t be talking about sex, because he definitely knew his way around that.

  “Sex,” he said, shooting that theory down. “It’s your place, so you have first dibs. Top, bottom, side, or standing. Or, if you really want to get crazy, Cricket told me about this one time where he had one of the bunnies stand on her head and put her legs on his shoulders while he—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Talia yelled over top of him. “This is so not something I want to hear.”

  “Sorry, yeah. I said the same thing, but some things you can’t unhear, and that? That was pretty damn interesting, so I’ll admit that I filed some of it away for later use. So if you’re feeling adventurous, just let me know, and I’ll be happy to hook you up.”

  He winked. She may have swooned a little. “Yeah, sure, okay, I’ll definitely do that.” She rolled her eyes, hoping her disinterested huff was convincing. Sex while standing on your head? How did that work?

  There was so much she didn’t know, so much she had yet to learn. It seemed that Tucker was determined to see to it that he fixed that problem posthaste. It was a good feeling, being wanted. Desired. During the last months of her marriage, Brock had made it a point to beat her confidence down, drilling it in that she wasn’t a good wife. She never cooked or cleaned to his standards, didn’t dress sexy enough or maintain herself as he wanted. In his eyes, she had never been woman enough for him, too independent, too focused on work and not enough on him. In hindsight, she wasn’t even sure why she’d married him in the first place. With her job, they were often separated for weeks at a time, and when they were together, they were always butting heads. Eventually, though, she’d come to her senses and realized that, despite what she did for a living, she wasn’t the problem. He knew what he was getting into when he married her and no matter what, she didn’t deserve the abuse. So, after telling him that he wasn’t man enough for her, she left without a backward glance.

  Just because she was the one who left didn’t mean that it didn’t still hurt, though. Sometimes, like now, when she thought on it too long, it struck a chord deep in her that seemed to hum through her every fiber, leaving her feeling the lowest of the low.

  But now she had Tucker, who made her feel like every woman in those romance books he read about. Did he learn a thing or two from them? Hell yes. She’d experienced it at his place, and now she was about to experience it again.

  Stepping into his personal space, she slid her arms around his shoulders and smiled up into his face. “I’d like to start out on top, and then we’ll go from there.”

  “Handstand sex?” he asked hopefully.

  Her head fell back, the hangover now reduced to a dull ache, and she laughed. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Absorbing the light in his eyes, the pure joy in his smile, and the euphoric feeling he gave her every time he looked at her like that, Talia thanked her lucky stars that she’d been assigned to the case she had…then wondered what she’d do with herself once it was all over.

  But she didn’t want to think about all that now. Right now, all she wanted to do was get lost in the man in front of her and the untold pleasures he would bring.

  Rising onto her toes, she whispered against his lips, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being you. The last guy in my life wasn’t so nice.”

  Tucker’s jaw clenched. “Then it’ll be my pleasure to erase him from your memory.”

  SIXTEEN

  “I think I’ll track him down and kill him.”

  “Tucker.” A thread of warning worked its way into Blake’s voice. Sitting across from his friend, he could see the wild streak in his eyes.

  “Fine, I’ll maim him then. A bullet to the kneecaps will definitely make me feel a little better. Plus,” Tucker said brightly, “less mess to clean up.” He kicked his booted feet up on the edge of Blake’s desk, looking mighty pleased with himself.

  “You can’t go around shooting people be
cause they were an asshole to your girlfriend,” he told him while shuffling papers around on his desk to make more room for their takeout cartons. Tucker had brought Chinese for lunch, which should have been his first clue that the man was there for more than just a friendly chat—Blake loved Chinese. As soon as the forkful of lo mein was in his mouth, Tucker started talking, and he hadn’t shut up since.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Tucker deadpanned.

  “Riiiiight.” That’s what he’d been insisting on for the last hour, but Blake had known Tucker a long time, and he might not have ever seen his friend in love before, but he knew all the signs, and Tucker was displaying all of them: possessiveness, protectiveness, inability to speak a single sentence without mentioning the woman’s name. And it’d all started with finding out she’d had a boyfriend in the past and the guy was a dick. He wanted to say, duh, he’s an ex for a reason, but there was no reasoning with a lunatic.

  “She’s not,” Tucker defended, his voice a little on the high side.

  “Is that why you’ve spent the last several nights with her?”

  “We’re just hanging out. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Maybe not for normal people.”

  Tucker shot him a dirty look. “Are you calling me abnormal? Because I think you are, and I want you to know that I am deeply offended.”

  Ignoring his attempt at a joke, Blake pressed on. He felt a sick sort of satisfaction in teasing his old pal. Call it just desserts for all those times he called him pussy-whipped. “When was the last time you had a woman spend the night? And Bambi doesn’t count. You fucked around on her all the time.”

  “I only did that twice, and she knew about it. Eventually,” he added, no sign of shame anywhere in sight. “Talia is different. She’s good people.”

  “Come on, man, she’s more than that, and you know it. I just spent my morning listening to you plot out the demise of her ex-husband for being an asshole more than a year ago, and from the way you’re talking, I bet you’ve already tracked down the sorry sonofabitch and planned the quickest route to his doorstep.”