Cami may have been able to provide his first hard-on in more than a year, but it had been seeing Twyla who had brought on his climax. Her magnificence defied his powers of description and woke the man who’d been slumbering. His cock twitched in agreement. He wanted nothing more than to sink into her warm depths and be cradled between her thighs.
“Tell me about this job,” he said after she’d joined him at the table. He spread out the food, pushing the onion rings and fries into the center with a nod. “You’re gonna help with these, right?”
He stared in fascination as cotton-candy pink lips spread around the burger and a small bit of grease pooled at the corner of her mouth. She hummed in appreciation, grabbed one of the fries and swirled it through the gobs of cheese, chili, bacon bits and sour cream. She followed up by taking a hard pull on her straw. This time his cock did more than jerk, it lengthened and thickened, pressing against the soft material of his jeans in silent demand.
Twyla took her time chewing the food to gather her thoughts. Since she’d been watching a report on the world-famous computer geek, she presumed their mission was to rescue the man who had been abducted.
“Ever heard of Randolph Hillman?”
“Nope.”
“He’s a major computer guru. Rumor has it he’s been working on some super top-secret program for the military. Early this morning he was captured in a foreign country. The mission…” If you choose to accept it, ran through her head, but she refused to utter such a clichéd line. She laughed, but the sounds cut off short in her throat when she made eye contact with Jhett.
“The job involves rescuing Mr. Hillman along with any equipment or media his captors may have gotten their nasty little hands on.” If possible, the hard blue eyes watching her grew colder. Hell, they became downright frigid and Twyla shivered as shards of ice entered her bloodstream.
“What’s he to you? Boyfriend? Lover?” He made a point of glancing at her ring finger. “Husband?”
“I-I…ugh!” He short-circuited her synapses and left her frustrated. “I’ve never met him, but his work will have a profound impact on the future safety of our country.”
“So your motivation is altruistic?” His grin turned lusty, eyes heavy-lidded as his gaze slid down to her breasts. Great, now she was hot. Molten hot and wet. Her breasts swelled and pressed against her T-shirt, nipples hardening as if attempting to draw the heat that had returned to his eyes.
Her thoughts fractured. While he was hard to read, she’d managed to catch small flashes of insight through his expressive features and yet had no idea what to expect next. Jhett “Hammer” Ramsey was a mystery. One she’d enjoy deciphering…or fucking. Yes, she’d love to spend time under him, over him, in front of him—she’d take him anyway she could get him.
Twyla shook her head to dispel the lascivious train of thought. She needed to get back into the conversation. “Not one hundred percent, no.”
“Ahh.” He gave a sage nod. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Spill it, honey.”
She’d already spilled a great deal of honey for this man. Her panties were soaking wet and her thighs were damp. Sticky. Ready to fuck. Without doubt, she’d spill a great deal more before they parted ways.
“I…umm. There are personal repercussions I’d rather not get into right now. Look, this is gonna be your typical search and rescue. A walk in the park for someone with your experience and expertise. My job will be to provide logistical support and assist with planning. Your job will be to acquire any resources you deem necessary, including personnel, as well as troubleshoot and execute the plan. Simple.” Well, she’d oversimplified things, but he’d get the gist.
“Ah huh, and what happens when everything goes FUBAR? Who backs me up? Or am I to be thrown to the wolves, considered an acceptable loss? Who ensures I make it back home?” He’d risen to his feet and damn if he wasn’t intimidating when angry. “No offense, honey, but what the hell do you know about planning a military mission?
What are your qualifications and why the fuck am I supposed to trust you with my life, the lives of my men?”
She didn’t know where the gumption came from, but Twyla rose and stared the big man down. Anger overriding logical thought, she strode around the table and went toe-to-toe with the cocky jerk. Too bad she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes since it would ruin the effect. Lord, what a tall slice of heaven, all concrete muscle and sharp angles she would enjoy investigating.
“Look here, flyboy.” She punctuated each word by jabbing a fingertip into the rock-hard muscle of his chest. “I’m taking some pretty big risks here too. I don’t know you from Adam, but I’m going to have to rely on your skill and reputation to keep us all safe. I’m also putting the fate of one of the most important men on the face of the earth in your hands. How do I know you won’t fuck the whole thing up?”
Oh hell, now she’d done it. His face turned red and a muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. Twyla imagined built-up steam escaping from his ears accompanied with the long blast from a loud whistle.
She prepared herself to be attacked by shifting her weight to the balls of her feet and letting tensed muscles relax. She’d studied Aikido, which taught her how to take on someone bigger and stronger without either of them getting hurt. Twyla felt confident in her abilities to diffuse his anger.
They continued staring for long, breathless moments. His response, when it came, was so completely unexpected that it blew her mind, silencing any protest she may have offered.
Twyla tempted him in the most delightful ways. Jhett imagined how her soft curves would cozy up against his hard planes. Built strong and made for action. She had plenty of lush flesh for him to hold onto, created to cushion a man’s body. His body.
He imagined long strands of her chestnut hair gliding over his body, teasing sensitive flesh. Or better yet, his fingers clasped in the locks and those charming sea-
green eyes looking up at him from under thick-fringed lashes while her pink lips stretched around his cock.
The imagery had him groaning, and if he didn’t distract himself from such thoughts, he’d act on them.
“Because I never fail.” Not true, but no one without clearance above the top secret level would know the truth. Jhett had failed and spent ten long months in hell serving penance for the sin of allowing personal issues to interfere with work. He shook off the treacherous thoughts. They were both better off if he didn’t go down that particular path.
The idea she’d distract him from the mission flickered through his mind, but Jhett pushed it aside. He had not accepted the job and wasn’t on duty now, therefore he had no good reason not to indulge, take what he needed. What he wanted.
God, did he ever want.
Most men would have backed down from him already, but not her. The bold way she stood her ground, getting right in his face, turned his cock into a steel spike. In his head, he knew Twyla to be strong and competent, but at the same time, he harbored a fierce instinct to offer protection and shelter.
He refused to examine the unaccustomed feelings bombarding him, saving contemplation for later. Much later. The sharp edge of desire became imperative, the center of his focus. The inescapable compulsion to taste her succulent pink lips overrode everything else. The plump curves had thinned into a firm line Jhett longed to tease and suckle until they softened and parted, granting admission into her warm mouth.
He’d intended on a slow seduction, but when their lips touched something snapped the leash of rigid self-discipline that confined his baser urges, swamping him under a tidal wave of wild lust. Capturing her lips, he caved under the force of his hunger and want and need. Her open responsiveness drove away logic. Jhett ate at her delicate lips, pushed along the seam until they parted and his tongue surged forward to claim her mouth. Their tongues touched, twined, tasted. Passion rose along with the ache.
Her fingers dug into his shirt, short nails scoring his skin and sparking a primitive response. This rare and beautiful woman bel
onged to him. Starving for her sweet flavor, he devoured her. His tongue ran over her teeth, traced every edge before delving deeper, declaring his ownership.
She whimpered as the backs of her legs hit the table, trapping her between the sturdy wood and his unyielding body. He luxuriated in the full breasts pillowing his chest. Ample curves enticed him to linger. Their kiss turned insatiable as his hands roamed and his thick erection pressed against her belly, proclaiming his possession. His aroused length burned and ached with the need to be held snug within the ripe confines of her pussy. It had been ages since he’d fucked a woman and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had stirred his emotions.
Jhett broke the kiss and stepped back. “Fuck!” He cursed himself for being a fool while raking his hands through his hair.
Twyla gasped for breath as she watched Jhett pace and grumble, catching only bits and pieces of what he said. He blasted himself, muttering something about a hard lesson and having shit for brains.
Ugh…men! Just when she found one she liked he had to go and ruin everything. And it was obvious this one had some major issues. She sighed. The kiss had been nice while it lasted, but as she well knew, men never wanted her for more than her brains. When they did, their affections weren’t sustained for very long.
Her fingers slid over kiss-swollen lips. Damn if he wasn’t a great kisser though. No man had ever shown such a high degree of passion for her. Her friends treated her like one of the guys, a best bud, not a desirable woman. The few men she’d managed to lure into bed had not been there out of attraction. They used her to slake the appetite for a woman who’d turned them down. And they never came back for a repeat performance. The only penis to remain faithful to her was her trusty vibrator.
At an early age, Twyla had come to the painful realization that she wasn’t beautiful. Modern society valued petite and delicate women. Gentleness and femininity were qualities often used for women considered attractive. She held none of these attributes. The terms large, powerful and aggressive were a better description of her. Many times she’d been referred to as an Amazon.
For reasons she chose not to examine, his rejection cut deeper than any previous refusal. A cold, dark cloud of gloom dashed the brief hope that had risen in her heart and thrust Twyla headfirst into a blue funk. Oblivious to her misery, he continued to cuss and pace.
Her eyes narrowed on Jhett and she began to see red and her depression morphed into an uglier emotion. Irritation grew, its insidious fingers spread, boiling her blood, inflaming her battered pride. The last straw came when he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, his expression one of disgust.
“Fuck this!” She snatched the keys from where he’d left them on the table and stormed off toward her car. Let the bastard find his own way back to the campground.
She glanced around, paying close attention to her surroundings for the first time since her romp across time. She didn’t know what state they were even in. The warm air brushing over her skin held a briny tang redolent of an ocean and the heavy humidity characteristic of the eastern seaboard. It was enough information to get her headed toward home. She’d figure out her exact whereabouts eventually.
Twyla flopped into the car in a graceless heap, her hands shaking as she jammed the key into the ignition. She glanced over at Jhett. The comical look of surprise crossing his face as the nincompoop realized that she’d walked away almost made her laugh. Almost, but not quite. The sting of the wound to her pride smarted too much for humor.
“Hey,” he bellowed and charged in her direction. “Where the hell are you going? We’re still talking.”
“Hah! Trying to suck out my tonsils and copping a cheap feel is not my idea of intelligent conversation.” She twisted the key and pumped the gas, cutting off his retort with the throaty roar of the engine.
Fight or flight—she decided on flight. His mixed signals—hot one moment, cold the next—confused the hell out of her. The perplexing rake had her twisting in the wind, an emotional state Twyla didn’t appreciate. She would retreat now to regroup and fight again another day.
Nodding to herself, she grabbed the shifter and threw the Camaro into reverse, grinding the gears along the way in her rush. “I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled. Great, he had her so riled that she was talking to the car now. She needed to get the hell out of here before she became a total wreck. With a negligent glance over her shoulder, she hit the gas.
BLAM!
The loud crash and sudden impact rocked the car, startling a scream out of Twyla as she slammed both feet onto the brake and the motor stalled. Her head snapped toward the windshield, bulging eyes meeting flyboy’s furious glare. His fisted hand rested on the hood where it had slammed down, his chest working hard with each panted breath and tendons standing out from the corded muscles of his neck.
Holy shit!
She slapped trembling hands onto the spot where her heart pounded against her ribs. Frozen, her lungs refused to work, which made her head dizzy and her leaden stomach heave, threatening the reappearance of her lunch. Moisture trickled down her cheek as a cold sweat broke over her hot skin. Twyla put the car in park and took the key from the ignition.
His lips compressed into a thin line as Jhett yanked the door open and squatted at her side, his expression concerned. “Jesus, Twyla. Are you all right?” Tender fingers wiped away what she realized were tears on her cheeks, then soothed across her furrowed brow. “I didn’t mean to scare you, honey.”
Scare her? More like give her whiplash from trying to keep up with his rapid mood swings. The genuine care and distress drawing his handsome face taut had a crazy effect on her. Twyla leaned out of the car and her arms snaked around his shoulders as she nuzzled his neck. She murmured words of comfort, although she wasn’t sure why she felt the urge to do so.
Damn, he smelled good. Fresh and masculine. Soap and musky cologne combined with his own unique pheromones to create a heady scent.
He shushed her. Her? What the hell?
Scattered thoughts coalesced. She placed both hands on his chest and gave a hard shove, scrambling past him out of the car. It was her turn to pace and curse while her hands flew. Coming to a sudden stop, she stared toward the heavens.
“I can’t do this, Danu. He can’t be the one. The insufferable beast will drive me bonkers! This has all been some cruel joke, hasn’t it? I must have had some pretty fucked-up karma. Come on, damn it. Fess up. I was Attila the Hun or some other heinous monster, wasn’t I? This crap is payback.”
No answers came, not that she’d really expected to hear from Danu. The ancient, revered Hussy warrior hunter would not respond to a conniption, but Jhett would.
“Christ! And those quacks said I was crazy. They’d have a field day shrinking your head.”
Priceless! Twyla wrapped her arms over her belly as huge guffaws burst from her lips. The two of them were quite the pair. Crazier than a flock of loons. Rescuing anyone while keeping themselves out of trouble would be an amazing feat. He exasperated her, but she needed him.
“So are you taking the fucking job or what?”
Jhett raked his fingers through thick strands of midnight black hair, his face scrunched up in an agonized expression. “Yeah, I’m taking the damn job.”
Chapter Five
The activities occurring over a four-day span landed them in an impoverished region of the Ukraine with three other ex-military men who Jhett claimed were the best. Twyla hadn’t made up her mind yet. She stared out the grimy window to the sparse pedestrian traffic in the alleyway below. The hovel—rented by a dubious contact of Jhett’s—by U.S. standards would have been condemned long ago. The place did have its advantages, such as adequate wiring for her electronic devices, many of which she’d yet to figure out. Some of this stuff was cutting-edge equipment still supposed to be in development. How Jhett got his hands on it was a mystery.
She’d given up arguing with him over her role in the mission. He wanted to limit her involvement to behind-the-sc
enes coordination, but no way would she stay out of the action. When the time came, she’d do whatever became necessary to free Randy Hillman.
Jhett underwent a drastic change as details of their operation were revealed. The most dramatic had come when he’d learned where they were headed. He’d clammed up, turning distant and guarded. Twyla didn’t know how to go about it, but she intended to find out why.
The crackle of the miniature communication unit in her ear and Jhett’s dark velvet voice drew her thoughts back to the current task, trailing a low-level smuggler.
“Hestia, you got a visual on our guy?” The call name Jhett had come up with for her got on Twyla’s nerves. Maiden goddess of the hearth, she gritted her teeth at the image. She’d prefer he think of her as Aphrodite or Venus instead of some homebody, regardless if the moniker fit.
She clicked a few keys, picking up the weasel as he scurried into a local bar. “Just entered Black Sea, Jh-Hammer.” Damn it, she’d almost said his real name again. Jhett’s harsh lecture still rang in her head.
“Are you trying to get me killed? That’s what will happen if you keep using my name over the fucking radio.”
This spy shit got confusing quick. They had code words for everything, and what she called their team in person was different from their names during operations. Twyla prayed that she wouldn’t mess up if things got stressful.
“Dodger’s going in for a blind date,” Mike said over the com link, indicating he was going to attempt a meeting. The tense silence that followed allowed her mind to wander again, thoughts turning to her first conversation with Jhett and the kiss he’d laid on her.
She got so hot just thinking about the leashed strength she’d sensed coursing through his muscular body. He’d eaten at her lips then forced his tongue deep, learning every recess of her mouth, teasing her to incredible heights of lust. Lips, teeth and tongue had claimed Twyla. He’d devoured her, demanded a response, and she’d given him everything. If he had not broken the kiss, she would have kept going until his cock had filled her, easing the empty ache in her pussy. But he had stopped and cursed himself for the kiss, which only served to piss her off.
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