Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  Her eyes opened, she watched as he propped his elbows beside her, holding his weight from her as he stared down at her. He stroked her hair back from her face, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Was she dreaming? Was it only a dream that held her beneath him, that felt the fierce throb of his erection still buried inside her?

  Her hand lifted, her fingers touched his face.

  “You’re really here,” she whispered. “Please be here.”

  His eyes closed for a brief, suspended second before they opened and she began to believe.

  “No dream,” he promised her. “I’m here, baby.”

  He drew back, causing her to gasp as he pulled himself from her.

  “You have too many clothes.” His voice was whisper-soft as she watched him.

  He pulled the tattered remains of her dress from her, then rose to the side of the bed and undressed himself. His shirt was ruined. Boots thumped to the floor; his jeans were disposed of quickly; then he was back, in the bed beside her.

  He reached out, pulling her against him, sheltering her against his own body.

  “You’re not leaving?”

  “I’m not leaving.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek. His lips brushed over hers, as soft as a summer breeze, before he stared into her eyes. “I’m dying without you, Risa. I can’t do this any longer.” He swallowed tightly. “I wanted to protect you, love. From myself. From my past.” He gave his head a hard shake. “Walking away destroyed me, Risa. I was more a dead man then than I ever have been.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp as emotion surged inside her.

  “You love me? You’re not leaving?” She couldn’t believe he was back, that she was in his arms, that he loved her.

  She touched his lips, her fingers trembling, heart racing.

  “My heart was with you.” A broken sob left her lips as she took his hand and slid it to her stomach. “Both our hearts were with you.”

  Micah felt a fist slam into his chest.

  His eyes went from where his hand lay against her stomach and back to her gaze. Emotion swelled in his throat until he was certain he would choke from it.

  “Risa?”

  “Both of us, Micah,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. The birth control wasn’t very strong.”

  He saw the uncertainty that filled her expression. The tinge of fear. He was shaking. He could feel himself shaking from the inside out.

  “A baby?” He had to swallow past the need, the hunger rising inside him now. “You’re pregnant?”

  Her lips trembled and the sight of it tore through him.

  He shook his head. He was swamped with feeling. Overwhelmed by it.

  “Risa.” His voice sounded broken even to him. “Sweet Risa.”

  He couldn’t speak. He moved lower, his hand caressing her stomach before his head lowered and his lips brushed across the satiny skin.

  His hand tightened on her hip as he fought to contain the emotions rising inside him like a wild wind across the desert. Blistering hot, surging through him with a force he couldn’t contain.

  “I am yours,” he whispered. “I live to hold you, Risa. I breathe to touch you.”

  He was shaking, almost shuddering as his head lifted and he stared back into her tear-drenched eyes. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Micah.” Tears fell from her eyes. “Oh God, Micah. I love you.”

  She was in his arms. He held her too tightly and he knew it. He couldn’t help it. He rocked her. He let her sob against his chest and had to battle the tears in his eyes.

  He was a Maverick. An unknown force, a man who adjusted the rules of his world as he moved through it. Until Risa.

  She recreated his world. She recreated him.

  No longer was he a dead man. He was a living, breathing extension of every emotion that one small woman could instill within a man.

  He was her lover. The father of her child. He would be her husband.

  “Me’achshav ve’ad hanetzach,” he whispered. “From now until eternity, Risa. I will love you forever.”

  HEAT SEEKER

  Lora Leigh

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  HEAT SEEKER

  Copyright © 2009 by Lora Leigh.

  Cover photograph of man and woman © Shirley Green

  Background image © Shutterstock.com

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  ISBN: 978-0-312-94581-7

  Printed in the United States of America

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / September 2009

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Sharon, you’ve made life fun. You’ve taught me how to be strong

  and you’ve become more important to me than I could have ever

  imagined. You are my very bestest friend.

  This book is for you.

  PROLOGUE

  Brisbane,

  Australia

  LIGHT CRASHED AND THUNDER boomed. Rain poured down in sheets as Brisbane experienced one of its hardest thunderstorms in years. Inches of water fell, saturated the ground, and ran in streams along sidewalks and roads. The wind howled and raged, and inside the tiny bungalow just outside town, the woman who had always hated the thunder, detested the lightning, and scowled at the rain paid little heed to the storm.

  Through slitted lids she watched as Trent Daylen, the tough, sun-darkened, laughing Australian Secret Intelligence agent she had been paired with on the mission they’d just finished, kissed the arch of her foot with greedy arousal.

  Bailey wanted to moan at the sight. She’d never, at any time, had her foot kissed by anyone. It was almost like being a virgin all over again, because the sensations this man inspired inside her assured her that she had much more to learn.

  “Like silk,” he whispered, the low, slow drawl of his accent sending shivers up her spine as his lips slid to her ankle.

  Bailey fought to simply breathe. She hadn’t expected this. She’d wanted it, ached for him, dreamed of him, but she had never expected to actually find herself in his arms when the mission was over.

  “Come on, love, let’s get those jeans off. Let me see those gorgeous legs.”

  Legs he’d watched through the months, making her so wet she’d nearly had to change her panties several times. She’d worn short skirts and skimpy tops to play a waitress in a low-end dive in Brisbane as they searched for an Australian naval officer selling secrets of a top-secret military base both their countries were conducting operations out of.

  They’d caught the officer. They’d celebrated with drinks. And now they were celebrating with each other.

  Bailey watched as his fingers, long and strong, moved to the clasp and zipper of her jeans. They came loose easily, the rasp of the closure audible even over the storm that raged outside.

  Her stomach clenched, her sex heated as the material parted and he gripped the hem, drawing the pants over her thighs and down her legs.

  He was still dressed. She wanted him naked. But his lips at her hip bone stilled her hands as they moved for the buttons of his bush shirt. Her nails raked against the hard muscles of his shoulders, and the involuntary arching of her hips surprised her.

  She could feel the dampness building between her thighs, soaking the sensitive folds there, sheening moisture along her thighs. She had never been so wet in her life, so ready for a man’s touch, his kiss.

  “Trent.” She moaned his name. She couldn’t help it. She needed more, so much more that she wondered if her need would ever be sated.

  “Patience, love,” he soothed her gently as he moved back up her body, one hand easing the fabric of her shirt up her stomach, to her breasts. “Let’s get these
clothes off that gorgeous body of yours. I swear I’ve dreamed of kissing every inch of that perfect, silky flesh.”

  There was nothing perfect about her body and she knew it. But he sounded as though he believed it. As though he saw perfection somewhere in her.

  Heat sizzled under her skin when his palm raked over a tight, hard nipple as he drew her shirt farther up. Then he was gripping the hem, pulling it over her head. Before it cleared her head, his lips were back on hers and she was sinking into a morass of rich, sensual sensations, into a pleasure that rocked her, drew her tight against him.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck as his lips took hers. His tongue pushed past, brushed against her own, then retreated. He sipped at her lips, caressed them, then came back with a hungry demand that had her crying out into the kiss.

  Desperate fingers fisted into the material of his shirt as she tried to drag it up his body, fighting to touch his flesh. Hard, hot flesh that invited her hands, muscles that flexed above her.

  Bailey writhed beneath him, her hands reaching beneath the shirt to clench on his back, her nails scraping against his flesh as she gripped her thighs tightly closed and fought for enough sensation against her clit to ease the ache building in it.

  “Don’t stop,” she cried out as he drew back.

  “Stop? Not on your life, sweetheart.” He tore his shirt over his head, his normally serene gray eyes stormy now as he revealed the dark blond scattering of hair that covered his hard chest and arrowed down the darkly tanned stomach and tight abs.

  His own jeans hung low on his hips, teasing her with the bulge beneath them. It looked huge.

  Shaking, Bailey reached out her palm, flattening it against the center of his chest and smoothing down the silky hairs that covered it. She felt him flexing beneath her touch, the hard muscle and tough skin reacting to the caress as his expression tightened with hunger. His gaze was murky, swirling with shades of gray and sexual power as her fingers caressed to the snap of his jeans.

  Bailey couldn’t resist. She ached. She needed. She’d been working with him for months and all she’d been able to think about was the lean, muscular body and sensual swagger. How he would kiss, taste, touch. What it would be like to kiss, taste, and touch in turn. So far, it was like fireworks erupting through her system.

  She fought to breathe. She fought to hold back, to enjoy every sensation, every heated touch.

  She pulled at the snap as he rose on his knees above her, his gaze narrowed as he stared down at her. The zipper loosened easily, and Bailey felt her mouth go dry a second before it began to water in hunger.

  Long, thick, the heavily aroused shaft throbbed, the darkened crest flared out and sheened with moisture.

  “You make a man lose his mind.” His voice was rough, thick with arousal.

  The sound of it sent a clench of desperate sensation straight to her womb. He sounded hungry, desperate for her. The thought that this man, so incredibly bold, so hard and rugged, ached for her sent the blood crashing through her veins and arcs of heated desire striking through the erogenous zones of her body.

  “I’ve already lost mine,” she panted as his fingers curled around the mound of one breast.

  Her nipple peaked hard, desperately tight and hot. When his thumb raked over it, Bailey felt her heart trying to come out of her chest.

  Lifting herself until she was sitting in front of him, she gripped the edges of his jeans and dragged them down his thighs as her lips pressed to those tight abs. Parting them, she licked the tough flesh, nipped at it, and was rewarded by the harsh, male groan that tore from his chest.

  That was what she wanted to hear. Those rough sexy male sounds that assured her it was good, that she was giving him pleasure. That he wanted her. That maybe he ached for her as desperately as she ached for him.

  She curled her fingers around the silk-and-iron length of his erection, pumped it slow and easy, and watched as more moisture beaded the tip.

  The flared head was just beneath her lips, enticing her, drawing her hunger.

  “Little tease,” he moaned above her as his fingers threaded through her hair, tugging at the long strands, causing the ends to caress her bare back and send another sensual sensation arcing through her system.

  “Tease?” she whispered. “I’m not teasing, Trent. I’m very damned serious.”

  Her tongue licked over the moisture beading the tip of his cock, causing a husky grumble to leave his chest.

  He liked that. His hips arched closer to her, his muscled thighs clenched violently, and the throb of his flesh beneath her fingers intensified.

  He drew her as no other man ever had. He made her wish things, want things she had never wanted before. Need for him drowned out the loneliness and the sound of the storm beyond the windows.

  Bailey parted her lips, needing more of him, aching for it as she had never ached for anything else. She covered the hot crest of his cock with her mouth, sucked him inside, and, through the strangled groan he gave, laved the sensitive head with her tongue.

  He tasted hot and completely male. Like the storm outside, wild and untamed.

  Trent Daylen was like a surfer boy mixed with a killer. A delicate balance of rakish charm and irresistible danger. And for tonight he was all hers.

  “God, Bailey, your mouth.” His voice wrapped around her, urged her on.

  With the fingers of her free hand she reached between his thighs, let the tips of her nails scour against the tight sac drawn close to the base of his cock.

  His hands tightened in her hair. Bailey sucked him deeper, let her tongue lick over the engorged flesh, and felt her own pleasure rising.

  Each suck of her mouth, each touch of her fingers brought a reaction for her. His hands tightening in her hair, his rough voice groaning her name, a sigh of pleasure passing his lips.

  “Damn, you’re enough to make a man crazed,” he accused her, though he didn’t sound in the least resentful. He sounded sexy and dark, dangerous and playful. “Suck it, sweetheart. Steal my mind.”

  What was left of it anyway. He was rakish, playful, an adrenaline junkie with a cause and she loved every facet of his personality.

  She loved him.

  Bailey almost paused. She almost hesitated in the pleasure she was giving him at the revelation that she could possibly love him.

  She loved him. Over the months of working with him she had somehow managed to lose her heart to him.

  “Damn, Bailey. Baby.” His hips pumping, he fucked her mouth with the hard, straining length of his cock as his fingers moved to her nipples, plucking at the tight points and sending pleasure rocking straight between her thighs.

  She moaned around his cock as she sucked and licked the throbbing head. She tasted him and grew hungry for more as her hands stroked over his thighs now.

  “Hell yes.” She could feel his gaze on her, watching her. Lifting her eyes, Bailey was caught by the storm swirling in the depths of his gaze.

  “Let me watch you lick it, Bailey,” he commanded, his voice harder now, more dominant. “Use your tongue on me, baby.”

  She drew back, her tongue extending, licking, stroking. God he felt so good, tasted so male. She’d been desperate to touch him, and now that she had him she was shaking with the wonder of it.

  “Fuck me, yes,” he muttered. “That’s what I’m going to do to you, sweetheart. Lick your sweet pussy till you scream. Till you’re begging for more.”

  She was ready to beg now. The very thought of his tongue stroking between her thighs sent her juices spilling from her sex to dampen the folds further.

  “Suck me now.” The hands in her hair pressed her closer until her lips were parting, taking him inside the wet warmth of her mouth as his cock flexed and throbbed and spilled a precious drop of pre-cum.

  Bailey licked at it eagerly, hungrily. She was lost in the moment, the pleasure, and the man. Nothing mattered outside the walls of the bungalow, nothing mattered except this. Touching him. Feeling his touch.

&nbs
p; She filled her mouth with the engorged flesh of his cock, taking a small amount of it, suckling at the head, licking at it, and finding her reward in the hard, guttural groans coming from his chest.

  She glanced up at him, saw the hard savage pleasure that twisted his expression, and the blood thundered through her veins in excitement. She was an admitted adrenaline junkie herself, but no high she had experienced could compare to this.

  Taking Trent into her mouth, caressing him, seeing his pleasure in her. It made her feel beautiful. She felt desired.

  “Hell. No more.” He was dragging her head back.

  Bailey moaned in protest. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him exploding in her mouth, taking her, marking her.

  “Enough,” he ordered, the rich velvet of his voice roughening as she found herself on her back once again.

  He held her wrists in one hand, stretching them above her head as he stared down at her, the thick sandy blond lashes shielding his dark gray eyes as he watched her.

  His lips were fuller now. A dark flush mantled his cheeks as the long strands of dark blond hair fell over his brow.

  “I’m going to eat you up like candy,” he promised, licking his lips as Bailey fought back a sensual cry.

  “I think you’re just going to talk me to death,” she accused him roughly.

  His chuckle was dark and deep. It was filled with purpose and washed over her senses like a soft summer rain as his head lowered, his lips going to one plump nipple.

  Bailey arched beneath him as the heat of his mouth surrounded the sensitive tip. Her fingers curled until her nails bit into her palms and she strained against his head.

  “Oh God, Trent.” She wanted to scream his name but didn’t have the breath to do more than push out a whispered cry.

  Her fingers fisted into his hair as he sucked at the hard point of her nipple. His tongue lashed at it, his teeth raked it. He tormented it, tortured it until she arched against him, strangled cries leaving her throat as she fought to hold him to her.

  Perspiration sheened her flesh, desire dampened her thighs. She could feel the pulse and throb of blood inside her sex and the aching tightness of her clit.