Ritt

by Anne L. Parks

Her pants came louder and faster, and he knew she was getting close to climaxing. He drove into her faster, desperate to be with her when she erupted into bliss.

  His balls seized, her muscles contracted around his length, and bucked against him until her body clamped down around him. A strangled cry erupted from her lips.

  He exploded inside her. Whiteness blinded his vision. He closed his eyes as every muscle in his body tensed.

  Once his body relaxed, he dropped beside her on the bed, unable to talk. Unable to move.

  Jesus, the woman was a wild cat in bed. He just prayed she’d let him do that a few more times. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of her soft, rhythmic breathing.

  Chapter 11

  Riley hit the brew button on the coffee maker and watched dark drops slowly filled the glass carafe. Morning rituals must be observed—even after the hot night of sex she’d experienced. Lance was still fast asleep in her bed.

  Leaving him had been bittersweet. Lance was potentially the hottest guy she had ever seen naked. Was definitely the best lover she’d ever had. It made her sad to think she wouldn’t be able to experience sex with him on a regular basis.

  She wasn’t romantic. Didn’t believe in the whole hearts and flowers and mushy sweet shit most women clung to as the road map to happiness. Wasted effort, if they’d ever asked her—which no one ever had. She preferred to blaze her own trail. Create her own version of happiness. One that didn’t require a man to be part of the process.

  Not that she was opposed to finding someone to spend time with for longer than a month or two. A long-term relationship held a certain appeal for her. Just not the undying, true-love crap her girlfriends back in school wanted. But if there was a guy out there who was hot, great in bed, smart, and had the same work ethic and sense of duty she had, she wouldn’t mind giving happily ever after a shot.

  It didn’t escape her that Lance was probably the closest man she would ever find that fit her criteria. And he was leaving soon. There was little chance that when she did get back to the US, they would be in the same part of the country conducive to having a relationship. Hell, she didn’t even know where he was stationed.

  Of course, that was dependent on her finding the leak and clearing her name. If she failed, she doubted Lance would be up for a conjugal visit at the prison once or twice a year.

  Hands slid around her waist, and a fit body snuggled up behind her. “Is there anything better than coffee in the morning?”

  She gave him a sideways glance and quirked an eyebrow.

  “Well, I would’ve been up for some morning action, but you left me.”

  “You were sleeping.”

  “No man has ever been pissed at being awakened by a sexy woman offering naked wrestling.” He kissed her cheek. Heat filled her belly and her thighs quivered. “Morning, Riley.”

  “Are you always in this good a mood before you’ve had coffee?” She pulled two mugs from the cupboard and filled each.

  “Not usually,” he said and took the mug she offered him as she turned in his arms to face him. “Turns out a night of mind-bending sex with you makes me wake up in a really good mood.” He took a sip from his mug. “But this does help with the disappointment of not finding out if last night was a fluke.”

  “Mind-bending sex is my super power, so you can be assured every time with me will be amazing.”

  “Good to know.” A sly smile slid across his face. “As much as I would love to spend all day in bed seeing if we can find the end of the sex rainbow, we do need to figure out how the hell ISIS knew your team were coming.”

  “Where do we start?” she asked, and pulled out the pastries Lance had bought at the store the previous day. She wished she could make them a cooked breakfast, but he hadn’t bought any of those ingredients. Plus, no one wanted eggs and hash browns without bacon. But it was not one of those items for purchase in Jordan.

  She really missed bacon.

  She slid the plate on the table not covered by their notes.

  Lance picked up a sora, and took a bite. “Unfortunately, we’re in a bit of a waiting game. I sent the photo off to my CO. Tex is working his magic. I guess we go over what we know, and incorporate what you learned yesterday from your guy, Abbott.” He glanced at her. “You trust him? Abbott?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’ve known him for a long time and we’re pretty tight.”

  Lance raised an eyebrow that asked how tight.

  “Not like that,” she said and rolled her eyes. “He’s happily married with two really cute daughters. I swear—ask the man about his girls and he will talk your ear off about how great all they are, especially his wife.”

  “Just checking,” he said. “How long have you been here?”

  “In Jordan? Just over a year.”

  “Where were you before that?”

  “DC.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Colorado.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Sister. Older.”

  “Jesus, Riley, are these state secrets or something? What’s with the one word answers? Are you going to make me pull every bit of information from you?”

  “Sorry,” she said, not realizing she was being difficult. “Learned behavior. Hazard of the job.”

  He stared at her, apparently waiting for her to elaborate on what he’d already asked. She sighed, not really wanting to delve into her family. Not that she didn’t want Lance to know. Her family was the reason she had joined the CIA—to get as far away from them as possible. “My mom, dad, and sister still live in Colorado—Colorado Springs to be exact.”

  He nodded his approval of her clarification. “Do you get back there to visit often?”

  “No. They don’t really understand what I do. When I talk to my mom, the conversation is usually centered around how fabulous my sister’s life is, with her three children—and one on the way—her highly successful insurance salesman husband, and their big house in the ‘burbs.”

  “What do you mean they don’t understand what you’re doing?”

  “A successful life according to my mother—I would settle down, have babies, and become a stay-at-home mom and dotting wife. What I’m doing—trying to rid the world of terrorists and protect the homeland—are noble pursuits, but pale in comparison to the contributions of my sister.”

  She drained her coffee, refilled it, and returned to the table with the carafe to top off Lance’s cup. “So, going home is not a vacation. It sucks. Even talking on the phone is torture. Being in Amman has, at least, provided me with an excuse to communicate through email only. Pretty much the only thing that’s preserved my sanity.”

  “Damn. I can’t imagine your family not understanding what a badass you are.”

  “Well, it’s going to have to be enough that you think so.” She took a bite of baklava. “So, that’s me. Your turn.”

  “My family is pretty laid back and normal.”

  “You jump my shit for giving basic answers and you think you can get away with that lame ass answer? Spill it, Commander. I want to know it all. Quid pro quo.”

  A wicked sexy grin slid across his face. Clasping his hands over his head, he leaned back and cracked his back. God, she loved his chest. And abs. And ass. He had the best ass. She licked her lips wishing they were having this conversation in bed where she could lick her way from his chest to his highly talented cock.

  “Alright, you ready?” He asked. She nodded and pulled her mind out of the gutter—for now. “I grew up in a suburb of Detroit. My dad still lives in the same house I grew up in, but my mom passed away two years ago from heart disease.” Sadness flooded his eyes but quickly disappeared.

  “Sorry, that must suck,” she said.

  “It did. My dad hadn’t been retired for very long when she died suddenly. They had plans to travel. Now, he doesn’t really want to do that by himself.”

  “What did he do before he retired?”

  “Cop. My brother went into the family b
usiness, also. He’s married, has a couple of girls. His wife is nice. She stepped up after my mom died, and takes care of my dad. Unlike you, I enjoy going home for visits. I just don’t get to do it very often.”

  “I’m guessing they’re proud of you being a SEAL.”

  “Yeah, they seem to be. They’re pretty supportive—we all are of each other.”

  Wow, what would that be like? A family who accepts every members’ choices and loves them all the same.

  “You’ll have to come back with me sometime,” Lance said.

  Riley was midway to taking a bite of pastry and stalled. Had he just asked her to go home with him to meet his family? What the hell?

  “Don’t freak out…I just meant you could get a taste of how a real family can make you feel good about your choices. I’m not asking for your hand in marriage or anything.” He chuckled. “But you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

  “I was two seconds from running out the door. Screaming.”

  “Don’t worry, Riley. I don’t fall in love. And I’ll never get married.”

  She smiled. The statement should’ve put her at ease.

  So, why didn’t it?

  * * *

  Lance meant what he said—he didn’t fall in love. And marriage was so far outside the realm of possibility, it was barely a blip on his radar. Romance and happily ever after was great for people like his brother, but Lance had other aspirations. He was following his dreams—moving up the ranks in the Navy, amongst the most elite SEALs—his passion was to fight and kill terrorists before they killed innocent people.

  So why had telling Riley he would never fall in love with her make him feel as if he were a fraud? No way was he falling in love with her. After one night of sex? Granted, it was potentially the best sex he’d ever had, but great sex wasn’t the basis of a strong relationship. Was there more that he was just not willing to recognize?

  He couldn’t deny he was developing feelings for her. Damsel in distress syndrome, most likely. Except that Riley was about as far from damsel as a woman could get. Which was probably why he was so attracted to her. She was not just a strong, independent woman; Lance had met plenty of those in his Navy career. Riley exuded confidence in her abilities. Lance felt as if she could handle just about anything thrown at her, but at the same time he wanted to protect her from harm. She would give her life to protect her guys, yet she seemed so vulnerable in light of potentially being branded a traitor to the country—and the SEAL team—she loved so much.

  Hard, strong, tough, yet soft and kind—Riley Bray was an enigma.

  His phone buzzed. Colonel John Holt, a Marine Raider and commanding officer of The 13. Lance liked the guy. Seemed to know his shit, and didn’t think his rank made him the only guy who knew anything. In the short time they had worked putting together the team, Holt had listened to Lance’s suggestions and taken everything into consideration. The man seemed to trust Lance, and Lance trusted him.

  “Colonel,” he said, and walked toward the living room. He knew Riley would wonder why he wasn’t putting the Colonel on speakerphone like he had with Tex, but there was no guarantee that Holt wasn’t calling for other reasons that Riley was not to be privy to.

  “I’ve got an ID on your tango. Arick Orlov from Russian-occupied Georgia. Your suspicions were correct—he’s RRA.”

  “Well, that puts a whole new spin on this episode.” He glanced at Riley who was busying herself with going through notes. For a split second, it entered his mind that maybe she was a member of the newest terrorist organization. She was certainly knowledgeable about the group when they were not even close to being on the same level as ISIS.

  He quickly dismissed the idea.

  Her position as an analyst would make her privy to classified information. And there was no doubt that Riley would go above and beyond what typical analysts would investigate to keep sharp on terrorist threats that face the homeland.

  “If the RRA are involved in this, the scope of your assignment just broadened. I want to know what the hell this guy was doing in Syria. If we can stop this threat before it mushrooms into a full-fledged terrorist clan, thousands of lives could be saved.”

  Lance exhaled. Until the next up-and-coming lowlifes band together for a “cause”.

  “One step at a time, Lance. We worry about what’s on the horizon when we contain this threat.”

  The man had read his mind, which meant he’d been considering the same things at some point. It seemed like a fruitless endeavor. Much like the drug trade—once you got rid of one group, there was always another to take its place. In lighter moments, Lance considered it job security.

  Riley was in the kitchen making another pot of coffee. And it hit him. This now affected her life…and that didn’t sit well with him.

  “How is the initial reason for your being in Amman going?” Holt asked.

  “More complicated than I had anticipated, unfortunately, and this newest situation doesn’t help. I’ll have to read you in on specifics later. Not in a position to talk openly at the moment.”

  “Do I need to start looking elsewhere in the CIA for our man?”

  Lance turned and stared at Riley. “Not yet. There may be hope on this end.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  They ended the call, and Lance walked back into the kitchen. Something about this woman called to him on a level he had never experienced. He wanted to protect her from what could happen. Wanted to get her out of Jordan. Hide her from world. Shield her from the people who sought to harm her.

  When she turned toward him, he grasped the sides of her face, and drew her in for a deep, bone-tingling kiss. Her hands wrapped around his waist and she molded her body to his. She was tall, only a couple of inches shorter than him. He loved that. All the good parts lined up. She fit him—like two pieces of a puzzle that clicked together perfectly.

  “That must’ve been some phone call with your boss,” she said when they came up for air.

  He dipped his head to her chest, his tongue teasing her nipple through her thin tank top. Sliding his hand down her over her hips, he snuck beneath the waistband of her pajama pants, and slipped his fingers between her legs.

  A soft gasp. Her legs moved apart to give him room to get to the source of heat and arousal that slicked her folds. One finger pushed inside her. His thumb circled the hard nub at the apex. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her moan was like music to his ears. The scent of her arousal hit him, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

  Dropping to his knees in front of her, he pulled her pants down to her ankles. She kicked them off, and parted her legs. Kissing her mound covered with short red hairs, he pressed the tip of his tongue to her clit as two fingers plunged inside her.

  Her fingers ran through his short hair, the tips massaging his scalp. She tasted so sweet, nectar from the ripest peach he had ever eaten. Her soft pants were the perfect cadence for his thrusts, but it was the moans when he would rub that hardened stone that nearly drove him crazy. He was so hard, his dick was actually in pain. Her foot slid between his legs. He managed to pull his pants down enough to clear his erection. Her toes were cold as they rubbed against his balls. The sensation of cold against his heated flesh was so damn good.

  Her breathing was rapid. Loud. She was close and that knowledge was causing his dick to pulse. He wrapped his hand around his cock. The sound of her excitement, the smell of her pleasure, and the feel of her soft core clamping tightly around his fingers drove him over the edge with her.

  She leaned back against the counter, her arms bracing her, as he watched her knees give a little. He glanced in wonder at the mess he had made on her legs. Never had he come just from a woman fondling his balls. And with her toes.

  He was in awe of this woman. Disturbed by the stir of emotions she caused. And desperate to hold on to what they had for as long as possible.

  Was that in the cards? A future? A relationship?

  Christ, an hour ago he was telling
her he would never fall in love or get married. Now, he was contemplating a long-term, long distance relationship with her.

  He lifted his eyes, stunned by the shimmering green staring back at him. He swallowed. He needed to get over this shit. He had a job to do, which now included finding out why Orlov was in Palmyra and what his connection was to the intel that was leaked.

  “We should probably get cleaned up,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m just going to take a quick shower.” Bending to pick her pants up off the floor, she darted out of the room. A door closed, and water came on. Had she felt the shift between them? Did it scare her as much as it did him?

  Or was she still on the short-term “play while you’re here” game?

  He grabbed a towel from beside the kitchen sink, wet it, and cleaned up the floor. Luckily, he’d seemed to miss his own pants, which was fortunate, since he didn’t have a change of clothes with him.

  Maybe what he needed was a little distance from the situation. From her. He grabbed his shirt from the floor in her bedroom, and slipped his shoes on. Tapping on the bathroom door, he opened it enough to poke his head in. He didn’t look at the shower, not wanting to see her naked body with water running over it. That would lead to him get naked and joining her. The opposite of getting away and gaining perspective.

  “Hey, I’m going to run home and get a change of clothes. Be back in about an hour.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Closing the door, he wasn’t sure if he was thankful she was so cool about him leaving, or apprehensive.

  * * *

  Riley braced herself against the shower wall and let the hot water stream over her. Her knees kept wanting to give out, her body still quivering from the insane orgasm Lance had provided courtesy of his deft fingers and talented tongue. When was the last time a man had actually made her beg for release?

  And now he was gone. Something had changed. He told her he was not the type to commit or fall in love, but his eyes told a different story. The way he approached her in the kitchen, the glint in his eye was not pure lust. Something else shined in them…something soft and wanting.