How was it possible to be angry at a person and want to possess them at the same time? To know that you’d only ever felt like your best self when you were with the person who’d betrayed you?
Because that’s how she made him feel, and it tore him apart inside. The twin pulls of hate and desire. Hell, he was old enough to know that hate and anger often made passion more intense. If he gave in to this thing, it would be heated beyond imagining.
He wanted to. And he didn’t. There was something about giving in to his urges that felt like ignoring his convictions.
But was that really it? Or was he scared he might enjoy it so much he’d be tempted to forgive her?
Her blue eyes glittered with what he knew were tears. She wouldn’t shed them. He knew that by now too. This woman was strong beyond measure. Stronger than when he’d loved her a lifetime ago. She’d had to be.
“What I really want is your forgiveness. But I know I’m not getting it,” she said. “So I’ll take what I can get of you, Johnny. If that means all I get is your body, then yes, that’s what I’ll take.”
His cock ached. His balls throbbed with arousal. So easy to turn her around, yank her pants down, and shove himself inside her. Take what she offered and give them both pleasure in the process.
He rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired. Exhausted from the past few days, the stress and adrenaline. The emotions. He hadn’t bargained on those. Emotions were something he couldn’t afford to indulge in, and yet he’d been swimming in them since Yuri had unmasked her.
Drowning in them. Fuck.
“Get some sleep,” he said tiredly. “Neither of us really wants to deal with this shit right now.”
She stared at him for a second, not speaking, and then she turned and disappeared into the bathroom. He’d thought she might argue with him, but she hadn’t. He went over to the table and sank down in front of the computer again. Maybe something had changed in the past few minutes, but he doubted it. Still, he needed something to concentrate on besides the idea of Kat removing her clothing in the bathroom.
The shower fired up and he had to shift in his seat to take some of the pressure off his rock-hard dick. Even exhausted, he wanted her. Even heartsick and filled with an increasing sense of impending doom, he wanted her.
She was an itch beneath his skin. A mosquito buzzing in his ear. A compulsion that threatened to tip across the line into addiction.
It was more than pussy. It had always been more than that with her. Whether she called herself Valentina or Kat or something else entirely, it didn’t matter. His body needed hers. It had been that way between them from the very first moment. Long before he’d loved her, his body had known that the two of them were combustible in a way he’d never experienced before. Or since.
Get up. Go to her. One last time.
Because tomorrow would end it, one way or the other. They’d either die trying to get to Turov or they’d succeed. If they succeeded, they’d part ways. Probably forever.
The sharp pain beneath his breastbone had nothing to do with losing her again. Nothing at all. With a primal growl, he shoved to his feet and stalked toward the bathroom.
Kat stood beneath the spray, eyes closed as the water rolled down her face, taking any stray tears with it. Cool air whooshed into the room a split second before she heard movement. Her eyes popped open. Johnny stood outside the shower enclosure, hands shoved in pockets, gaze troubled.
He was fighting himself. Fighting his nature. She saw it and her heart bled. He had more honor, more heroic valor than any man she’d ever known. And she was his breaking point. It didn’t make her proud.
There was no pride in causing pain.
Their eyes tangled through clouds of steam. He reached behind him and yanked his shirt up and off with one hand. Joy cascaded through her. Oh, she knew he hadn’t forgiven her. That wasn’t what this was about.
But he needed her, and that was enough.
He shed his jump boots. His fingers flicked open the button on his waistband. But then he hesitated, and her heart rate slowed to a crawl. She was afraid to speak his name, afraid that would be the thing that had him turning on his heel and retreating.
Instead, she opened her arms. His gaze crawled down her body, from her collarbones to the gentle swells of her breasts to her waist, hips, and then lingered on the triangle at the vee of her thighs. She didn’t move. Just held her arms open.
He rolled into motion in the next second, yanking open the shower door and striding in. He was still wearing his pants but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he swept her up and back against the tile, pressing her body between him and the cool wall. His mouth took hers.
Kat whimpered with the rightness of it as his tongue plunged between her lips. The water pounded down on them. He filled his hands with her breasts, pinching her nipples into aching points. She ran her hands up his sides, exploring the taut ridges of muscle, across his pecs, and then down to his waistband. His pants were soaked, and her pulse skipped. So incredibly sexy the way he’d strode in and taken possession of her mouth, and to hell with his pants.
She pushed them down his hips, aching to free him—but before she could get her hands on him, he grasped her beneath the arms and lifted her against the tile, his body pressing her relentlessly into the hard ceramic.
She wrapped her legs around him instinctively. And then she twined her arms around his neck. One of his hands slipped between her legs. But he didn’t touch her. Instead, she felt him fumbling with his pants, pulling himself free—
And then he was there—oh God, right there—thrusting into her body until he was seated to the hilt. He tore his mouth from hers. His eyes bored into hers. So many things glittering in that gaze. She couldn’t sort them all out, but agony was the primary emotion.
“Johnny,” she choked out.
His brows drew together hard, his expression so pained that she thought he might be physically hurting. But then he dropped his forehead to the wall, his cheek against hers. The beating of his heart was hard and sure. Love crashed through her, tearing her apart with its bittersweetness.
“I hate you,” he whispered, his voice echoing against the tile, slipping into her ear to stab her in the heart.
His cock throbbed deep in her body. Little bolts of lightning rocked her with every slight movement they made. Her heart ached but her body was on fire.
She squeezed his neck and turned to press her lips to his ear. “I know, lyubov moya. I know.”
He seized her lips again, his body rocking deep into hers. Over and over again they strained together as the water beat down and the steam curled. Pleasure spiraled through her, tighter and tighter—and then he ground his hips against her and stars exploded behind her eyes.
She tore her mouth from his, gasping in air as her orgasm rolled over her like a shock wave. A second later he stiffened, groaning as he came deep inside her.
She thought that would be it. That he’d withdraw and walk away. Instead, he let her down slowly. Her legs were jelly as her feet hit the floor. He steadied her, and when she looked up he was frowning.
“I fucked that up,” he said.
Her heart hammered like she’d outrun a bear. Her body was gooey and shapeless. She could barely form a coherent thought.
“It was perfect,” she managed.
“No, I meant at the end. I came inside you. I should have been more careful.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “It’s fine. I have an implant. Makes the most sense in this business.”
He nodded, but his expression didn’t soften.
“Not because I’m having sex with every mission partner,” she added. “But I’m a woman in a hard profession. There are men who think that gives them license, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Has that happened to you?”
“Once,” she said. “He didn’t get far.”
He nodded. And then he stepped under the spray, letting it wash over his head. He managed to toe off the wet pants and left
them in a sodden heap in a corner of the shower. She watched him, loving the sight of his hard body as water found the grooves of his muscles on the way down. He was a living waterfall, and everywhere the water went was somewhere she wanted to explore.
She touched one of the v-muscles on his abdomen and he jerked, his hot eyes boring into hers. “I know this isn’t forever,” she said. “I know you haven’t forgiven me. But I want as much of you tonight as I can get.”
He didn’t say anything. She dropped to her knees on the rubber mat and took him in her mouth. Just when she thought he might push her away, he put a hand behind her head and let her take him where she wanted to go.
Chapter 36
Mendez jerked awake. It was dark out, and he fumbled for the burner phone to check the time. Only one a.m. He listened for any sounds, but there was nothing beyond a neighborhood dog and some traffic on the road.
Beside him, Kat lay curled with her back to him. His blood began the leisurely journey to the base of his spine as he contemplated the naked curve of her ass. He’d fucked her twice tonight—once in the shower and again in the bed before they’d fallen into an exhausted sleep—but he could do it again.
He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. After that encounter in the shower, he’d meant to walk away and get back to planning a mission. But she’d dropped to her knees and sucked his dick and he’d lost whatever convictions he’d had.
He didn’t let her finish him though. He’d swept her up and carried her to the bed where he’d hooked his arms behind her knees and opened her wide. She’d put her ankles on his shoulders and he’d ridden her until they’d both shuddered their releases.
Somehow, though he’d meant to leave her in the bed alone, he’d fallen asleep beside her. It was good they’d slept. They needed it before they went to work. It was always possible their location could be compromised, but logic told him that Yuri had gone to a lot of trouble for him. The man wouldn’t loan him a helicopter and a van full of weapons and then tip off the enemy to his location once he reached Moscow.
If Yuri had meant to give Mendez up to Turov, he’d have done it back in Novosibirsk. Before he’d sent Mendez into the night with a state-of-the-art helicopter.
No, for now they were safe, and that’s why sleep was so important. Food, sleep—and sex, it seemed. His dick began to harden and he sighed. He let his hand drift down, stroking himself idly and thinking that he was nearly fifty fucking years old. The kind of hard-ons he was getting for this woman belonged to a younger man. Yet they didn’t stop happening.
She stirred, turning to him and throwing a leg over his body. Right across his erection. It didn’t take her long to wake after that. One minute she was beside him and the next she’d climbed onto his body and lowered herself on his cock.
She sat above him, fingers curling into his pectoral muscles, her breath dragging in and releasing on a moan.
“You’re so wet,” he said.
“I was thinking about you. About how much I love your cock.”
“You were asleep,” he pointed out.
She shifted her hips and sparks shot along his shaft and down into his balls. “Then I was dreaming about you.”
He gripped her ass and let her ride him at her own pace. It didn’t take long for her movements to grow faster or for him to hold her hard and start thrusting up inside her body at a frantic pace. The pressure in his balls grew—and then she cried out and ground her pussy against him, jerking her hips as she came with a soft sob that only intensified when he stroked her clit with his thumb.
She hadn’t quite finished when his climax slammed into him, stealing his breath as he came hard within her. When it was over, when he could move again, he rolled to the side, taking her with him.
She kept her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her lips glided over his chest. Lazy, featherlight. He closed his eyes and thought he could stay like that forever.
Except he couldn’t. Tomorrow HOT would arrive and they’d go after Turov. She was right that they needed to wait. The timing would be tight, but their chances would be better if a team went in rather than two people.
Everything would move fast once they were in motion. But for tonight they were still—and she was in his arms again.
It felt more right than he cared to admit.
Morning did not bring good news. Kat woke alone around five, then dragged on her clothes and ran a comb through her hair before heading into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Johnny was on his phone, pacing, tearing at his hair as he stalked back and forth.
“What do you fucking mean the schedule changed?”
Kat went over and poured coffee into a cup, then turned to lean on the counter and watch him pace. He’d put on a new pair of tactical pants and a fresh T-shirt. She knew that because she could hear the dryer tumbling behind a door to her left. He must have retrieved his sodden pants from the shower.
Thinking of the shower made goose bumps chase down her spine. Delicious.
Yes, every second of last night had been delicious. From the moment he’d walked into the shower until the second she’d woken up and felt the ache between her thighs.
She shook herself. Concentrate.
Because whomever he was talking to was not making him happy right now. His team, no doubt. It seemed they were still delayed, and that was certainly not going to be a good thing for any of them.
“So he’s flying out today? That’s a definite?”
The hairs on Kat’s neck stood up. Changes of plan were never good.
“Copy. Keep me informed. Over and out.”
He dropped the phone on the table and swore. Alarm swept through her, leaving her heart beating faster than before.
“What’s happening?”
Johnny’s dark eyes snapped with fire. “Turov’s got a meeting in St. Petersburg. He’s flying out this afternoon.”
“But the summit… he’s supposed to go to the meeting of business leaders after the government officials meet, right? That’s tomorrow.”
“He’ll be back for it—but he’ll fly in and go straight to the Kremlin. By then it’ll be too late to stop whatever he’s got in motion. It has to be today.” Johnny raked a hand through his hair and swore some more.
She went to him and slid her hand along his cheek. She half expected him to push her away, but he didn’t. Her belly fluttered with a million butterflies as she touched him. Oh, Johnny. I love you so much.
She wanted the right—the opportunity—to touch him every day just like this. To sleep with him and wake with him and love him for the rest of her life. Throbbing pain scorched a path through her body, leaving her aching and bereft.
So much for getting out of this with her heart intact.
His eyes were hot. He put his hand over hers. She could tell that movement was torture for him. He ached too.
“Then we’ll get it done,” she said. “Somehow.”
“I’d tell you to call Ian, but apparently he’s on his way to capture me. For DeWitt.”
“You don’t actually believe that?”
He shrugged. “Ian is capable of anything. For the right price.”
“Ian serves many masters, but I think he always does what he believes is right in the end. He wouldn’t have warned you in the first place if he thought you were guilty.”
She pulled her phone from her back pocket and hit the button to dial Ian. After several rings, the phone went to voice. She didn’t leave a message.
Johnny didn’t look surprised when she slipped it into her pocket again.
“Well then. Guess we’re on our own.”
“Guess so,” he said.
God, it hurt to love him so much. To know this was ending. Because when they stepped out of this house and went to work, there would be no more Kat and Johnny. They’d be up against overwhelming odds. If they managed to succeed, his men would live. And if they didn’t? Maybe his team would save the men anyway. But she and Johnny would probably be dead.
She
didn’t want him to die. She would do anything to prevent it. But if he insisted on doing this thing, she was doing it with him. Whatever the outcome.
“Hell, my men may already be dead. But I have to find out. Those boys trust me—”
His nostrils flared as he pulled in a breath. She could tell he was battling deep emotion. She didn’t think that was a normal occurrence for him. He was always so stony and in control. Always had been—except for when he was naked with her.
“You’ve lost men before. I know you have. You’ve been in this game too long not to.”
He nodded. “It’s part of the job. But I fucking hate it—and I’m not letting those men die if I can help it. This wasn’t their mission. And then there’s the bigger picture—what it would mean for the US and Russia if Turov gets away with assassinating world leaders and using my men as his scapegoat.”
“We don’t know that’s his plan.”
“Don’t we? What else would a man like Sergei Turov do?”
She slipped her hand to his chest, stepped into him. Maybe he would push her away. But he didn’t. He put a hand on her hip and threaded the other into her hair. Desire flared, but it was too late for that.
“I understand, Johnny. I’m with you.”
“I don’t want you to go with me. It’s too dangerous. Stay here and wait for HOT. They’ll get you out.”
She stiffened, her eyes searching his. “What? No way. I go where you go. Besides, how the hell will you get in all by yourself? You need me, whether you like it or not.”
He closed his eyes. Swore under his breath. Shook his head.
“I’m still fucking pissed at you, Kat. But this mission may be the end of both of us. And I don’t want you to die.”
“I know that. I’m still going.”
Chapter 37
Yuri’s son had provided them with workman’s coveralls. Mendez handed Kat a set and then proceeded to drag his own on over his tactical gear. After he got them on, he went and tugged the interior panels into place over the weapons lining the van walls, hiding them from view. There were magnetic signs too, and he slapped those onto the sides.
HOT Valor (Hostile Operations Team - Book 11) Page 21
