Maverick

by Lora Leigh

  The angrier he made her, the braver she seemed to get. It was a side of Risa he was certain he wouldn’t have become acquainted with if he hadn’t attempted to have her moved. He’d hurt her, and he regretted that. But he had also learned that she had triggers that could draw her past the fears and uncertainties he knew filled her. Anger was one of the triggers; arousal was another. Confrontation had an impact as well.

  He’d tried to handle her with kid gloves, tried to treat her gently, but he was learning there was much more to Risa than he had ever imagined when he challenged her.

  He wondered how much further she could be pushed before they reached the club.

  “Come here.” He lowered his voice, let it rasp along his throat, and wanted to crow at the slight tremor that raced over her as she stared back at him in surprise and anger.

  “You must be joking.” The haughty tone almost had him grinning. Damn, she made him hot when she looked down her nose at him.

  “Actually, I’m not.” He hardened his voice commandingly. “Come over here.” He patted his lap.

  And she laughed. The sound was filled with bitterness. “Not on your life, Micah.”

  Before she could evade him, he reached across the small space between the seats, gripped her wrists, and pulled her quickly to his lap.

  Before she could fight, he did what he’d been dying to do since the night before. His head lowered and he caught her lips in a heated, lust-filled kiss.

  His tongue parted her lips and the sweet taste of her hit his senses like wildfire. He’d waited until now to taste her. It was the only way to hold on to his self-control, the knowledge that he had a limited time to touch her, taste her, before they’d be interrupted.

  He held her to him, one arm around her back, the other over her hips. His hand clasped her thigh beneath the hem of the short dress.

  Her struggles diminished, not that she had seriously fought to be free. Her lips moved beneath his, and a female cry of need tore past her hungry lips as he turned and bore her to her back beneath him.

  She tasted like summer and sweet sunshine. Her arms twined around his neck and her thighs parted at the urging of his hand between her thighs.

  And he was right. She was wet. So damned wet the silk panel of her panties was heated and damp against his fingertips. Her pussy was juicing, and for one insane moment Micah had to struggle against the need to tear the thin covering from her and plunge inside her.

  Instead, his fingers pushed beneath the material, found her silken slick folds and the saturated flesh beyond. Heated syrup met the two fingers that eased slowly inside her entrance. She was snug, fist tight, and so hot as she gripped him that he wanted to shout in triumph.

  Her hips arched to him as he kept her lips busy beneath his. Her legs fell farther apart, one foot resting on the floor as she arched and pushed his fingers deeper inside her.

  His thumb found her swollen clit and rubbed against it with a subtle rocking motion that had wild cries echoing in her throat.

  His lips slanted over hers to kiss her deeper, to draw her as deep into the morass of sensations as he was being drawn. There was nothing as sweet, as hot, as Risa. She claimed a part of his soul with her innocent hunger and wild cries, and he prayed she never realized it.

  Maintaining his distance was practically impossible when she wasn’t in his arms. When he held her this close, felt the luscious heat of her body wrapped around his fingers, then all chance of distance disintegrated. She was heated honey, pure sensual female, and she was eroding his control into the dust.

  She was a weakness, he knew. A weakness he could ill afford, and yet one he couldn’t deny.

  Lifting his head, he thrust his fingers deeper into the convulsive grip of her pussy and waited until her eyes fluttered open before he spoke.

  Holding her, possessing her, he stared down at her with all the hunger, all the dominant needs, he could feel rising inside him.

  “This is mine.” His fingers owned her pussy now. “You’re mine. For as long as I sleep in your bed and live at your side, this sweet, luscious body belongs to me, Risa. Don’t attempt to deny it, because we both know it would be a lie.”

  Panting, her eyes darker, her face flushed, she tightened her muscles around his fingers and narrowed her eyes back at him.

  “Bet me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  RISA FELT THE eyes on her when she entered the restaurant Micah had chosen for his little night out. It was one of the most exclusive in the city. The food was excellent, the service beyond compare, and it seemed everyone she knew in Atlanta was there that night.

  Before her mother’s death, Risa had lived in Atlanta with her parents. It was only after her tenth birthday that Jansen had moved them to Virginia, then to Washington, D.C. It was only after her mother’s death that Risa’s life had seemed to turn into a farce compared to her life before.

  Suddenly Jansen had become increasingly critical of her looks. Risa had retreated into a shell, spent more and time in her room or on the grounds of the small estate he had bought. Nothing she had done had pleased him.

  The past six years, since her return to be closer to her grandmother and to put the past behind her, Risa had stayed well clear of the restaurants that she knew were frequented by those who had known her and Jansen.

  Atlanta wasn’t far enough away to escape the crowd Jansen and Elaine had been a part of, though. And their reactions to Risa varied.

  She heard the whispers as she moved through the restaurant, her head held high when all she wanted to do was run and escape the furtive, pitying looks and gossipmongering.

  Yes, the ugly duckling was dressed in silk, she thought as she caught one woman’s overly loud statement as they passed her table.

  Risa didn’t glance left or right; she followed Micah’s lead at her side on autopilot, escaping within herself as she had always done as a child.

  God, she hated this.

  “Risa. Risa Clay.”

  She’d hoped to escape any sort of socializing with the people she had known before her kidnapping and rape. She wasn’t that lucky.

  She and Micah were halfway to the table where Ian and Kira were awaiting them when two diners rose from their chairs along the path they were taking.

  Risa came slowly to a stop, her gaze moving from James Walters’s long, aesthetic face to that of his wife, Corina. The couple had been acquaintances both in Atlanta and in D.C. James was one of the world’s premier heart surgeons, his wife a nurse who worked by his side.

  “James. Corina.” Risa had a trick she used when she was forced to face people who had known her before. A way of staring at them while unfocusing her eyes and blurring the pity on their faces.

  “Risa sweetheart.” James caught her hands and bent to place a kiss on her cheek.

  He never met his goal. Micah pulled her back gently until she was against his side, his arm curved possessively around her back.

  An awkward silence filled the next second.

  “James, Corina, this is Micah Sloane,” she introduced him into the silence. “A friend of mine.”

  “Just a friend, love?” Micah asked under his breath as though they were indeed more than what they actually were. In the space of a second she wondered exactly what they were.

  “Micah, this is James and Corina Walters. James is a premier heart surgeon, and Corina the miracle nurse that works by his side.” Corina glowed at the compliment. “James, Corina, Micah’s a SEAL with the U.S. Navy stationed here in Atlanta at the moment.”

  “A SEAL, how utterly exciting,” Corina murmured. “Was he the gentleman with you the other day when that nasty character tried to kidnap you? The news said a shot was fired, frightening that vicious person away. We tried to call, dear, to make certain you were okay, but you weren’t taking calls.”

  Risa swallowed tightly. “Micah frightened him off. If you’ll excuse us…”

  “Risa, darling, we were frantic to get hold of you and make certain you were well,” James
said, his tone sincere, though his gaze sparkled with pity and a hint of confusion as he glanced at Micah. “We couldn’t believe someone was trying to harm you again.”

  “Risa’s fine; aren’t you, baby?” Micah’s hand tightened at her hip. “But if you’ll excuse us, we have a table waiting.”

  “Of course,” James murmured, a frown touching his clear brow as he stared down at Risa. “Please call us soon, dear. We could have lunch and catch up.”

  “Of course,” she muttered the lie. She wasn’t about to call either of them.

  Not that she disliked them or that there was anything wrong with them. James and Corina had been one of the few couples whom Risa had actually enjoyed talking to at one time. But that time was long ago and far away. She hadn’t been an oddity then, or a topic of gossip and speculation. And she hadn’t been submitted to their placating attention. She’d always pitied those who had been years before.

  She turned her gaze away as Micah led her through the restaurant to the table where Ian and Kira were watching them curiously.

  “Trouble?” Ian asked quietly as he rose from his chair.

  “Nothing important,” Micah answered as he helped Risa with her chair. “Acquaintances, I believe.”

  “Acquaintances are about it,” Kira said softly so her voice wouldn’t carry. “James and Corina can only be taken in small doses.”

  Risa lowered her head to her plate, wishing she had found a coat or a jacket to wear now. Anything but the skimpy dress and too-small wrap. She could feel the eyes on her; her skin crawled with the sensation of those looks.

  “Risa, you’re looking lovely tonight,” Ian stated as he took his seat once again.

  “Thank you.” Her smile was stiff as she glanced at him.

  Kira, as always, was a goddess of perfection. Her long black hair was pulled back from her face with jeweled combs, her smoky gray eyes were sensual and mysterious, and the stunning red slip dress she wore was both daring and elegant.

  Ian was the perfect counterpoint to his wife. With his dark blond hair, brown eyes, and sun-darkened skin, he was amazingly handsome in a tough, masculine sort of way. And when he looked at his wife, his gaze softened with his adoration of her.

  What would it be like, Risa wondered, to be loved in such a way? To turn and see that look on a man’s face?

  She pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the time to reflect on what she didn’t have. She could do that later, after Micah was gone. If she lived that long.

  She stayed silent as Micah, Ian, and Kira began to chat about Atlanta. Kira and Ian had a small condo they kept in the city for long visits. They were still close to the former SEAL members he had once fought with. They were a little more than close, Risa knew. They were also a working part of the group that Micah was involved with.

  “Risa, that’s a stunning dress,” Kira commented, drawing her away from her thoughts.

  “Micah has exceptional taste,” she murmured a bit mockingly.

  God, she was going to have to stop this. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kira. It’s been a long day.”

  She kept her voice lowered so diners at the nearby table couldn’t overhear her.

  “And to top it off, you had to deal with James and Corina.” Kira smiled in understanding. “Here’s the waiter with our wine. A few glasses and a nice dinner, and you’ll be in perfect form.”

  If only it would take no more than a few glasses of wine to put everything in perfect form.

  She did drink the wine, and she managed to eat most of her meal. As Ian and Micah continued to chat over drinks, she let her fingers play over the stem of her empty wine-glass. The wine had helped. She didn’t drink often, and she rarely drank wine simply because of its mellowing effect on her.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse us, Risa and I are going to go to the ladies’ room.” Kira rose to her feet and smiled back at Risa. “I hate going in there alone.”

  No kidding. It was like a cobra pit, Risa thought, barely managing to keep from rolling her eyes. She didn’t patronize this restaurant for a reason. She and her grandmother had both agreed that only the snippiest, most condescending members of the community actually ate here.

  But Risa followed Kira. She was amazed she did so without tripping over her feet as she felt the eyes following her. Thankfully, the wine had her just mellow enough that she, frankly, didn’t give a damn who watched her.

  Maybe she’d had too much. She frowned at that thought as she and Kira entered the surprisingly empty ladies’ room. Kira followed Risa to the sinks where they washed their hands, dried them, and then looked around in amusement at the fact that the room was empty.

  “And here I thought we’d have to fight our way in,” Kira stated with amusement.

  “I prefer the silence,” Risa assured her. “So why did you drag me in here?”

  “To give you a break,” Kira sighed. “Even facing off a few dozen piranhas in the ladies’ room is sometimes preferable to sitting in the middle of a restaurant and feeling their eyes on you.”

  Risa shrugged. “The wine has its own saving grace,” she said with a smile.

  Kira didn’t smile back. “Are things going okay with Micah?”

  “Fine.” Risa nodded. She wasn’t into sharing girlish confidences in the ladies’ room.

  Kira nodded. “Good then. I guess we better return before the stampede begins.”

  It began as they were leaving. Risa almost smiled at the group of women bearing down on them as they moved back into the hall. Several of those women frowned in consternation as Kira and Risa passed them. Foiled again, ladies, she thought a bit snidely.

  She knew every one of them. This little outing was turning into a damned farce.

  Taking her seat once again, she stared up at Micah with what she hoped was a pleasant smile and said, “Next time, I pick the restaurant if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m not much into the local drive-thru,” he murmured at her ear. “I have my manly form to think of, you know.”

  She almost snorted at that. “The local drive-thru is much more polite.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed. “But not nearly as enjoyable.”

  He took his seat once again, his hand lingering on the back of her chair to play with her hair. Risa wanted to groan at the sensation of his fingers tugging restlessly at the strands. The sensual, seductive feel washed over her, tingling beneath her skin as she attempted to make small talk with Kira.

  Unfortunately, the woman seemed to be well aware of what Micah was doing to Risa.

  “Gentlemen, I’m ready to dance,” Kira finally announced. “And I’m certain the band is just waiting on me and Ian to add some excitement to the dance floor.”

  Ian chuckled at that, but both men came to their feet, helped the women from their chairs, and led the way from the restaurant to the small arched tunnel that led to the connecting nightclub.

  The music pulsed around her. Risa was certain she could feel the rhythm of it filling her blood.

  She had once loved to dance. She had danced with her friends, other young women considered the less acceptable or less pretty of their social set. They were always invited to the parties, but they were always the ones huddled along the wall in boredom.

  It had been Risa’s idea that last year, for them to hit the dance floors together. They had all loved to dance, and they had been able to enjoy the hours they were stuck at those parties that way.

  For once, Risa had enjoyed the parties as well. Until the kidnapping. Until Jansen had laughed at her during that plane ride where she had found hell.

  The ugly little bitch, she can’t even get a man to dance with her, he’d sneered, let alone actually fuck her.

  She’d been eighteen. She had never had a boyfriend, never had a date. She’d been a virgin, and that night she’d learned how evil a father could be.

  The wine was still affecting her, Risa told herself even as she crossed one leg over the opposite knee and twirled her foot to the club beat.
<
br />   She wanted to dance. She wanted to give herself to the music. She didn’t have to worry about what her face looked like then, or why her lover wanted to be rid of her. She didn’t have to worry about dying; all she had to do was live within the music.

  She rose to her feet, felt Micah’s hand slide down her arm until his fingers were loosely gripped around her wrist as he stared up at her.

  “I want to dance,” she told him, hungering for the freedom the music had always given her. The freedom to be more than the ugly little girl she had always been.

  His expression tightened, his black eyes grew impossibly blacker, sexier, as he rose from his seat. He shrugged the leather jacket he wore from his shoulders and laid it on her seat, atop her purse and wrap, as though protecting them, hiding them from view. Then he took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

  MICAH HAD KNOWN that the day would come that Risa would find a way to completely blow his little mind. She’d already taken control of his cock; it stayed hard for her, and for her alone. But on the dance floor, amid dozens of dancers vying for attention, she stole another part of him. He had a feeling there was going to be very little of himself that he owned by the time this mission was over.

  She danced liked a dream. The chocolate silk tunic dress shifted and shimmered over her gracefully as she moved. It did nothing to hide the heat of her flesh as he touched her, did nothing to hide the sensual, sensuous woman who lurked beneath her quiet exterior.

  He watched her nipples bead harder beneath the silk, watched as her light blue eyes became leaden, sensual. Her face flushed, her lips parted, and he knew she was the center of his world at that moment.

  He would die to protect her. There had been no one in his life, outside of his parents, whom he would have consciously walked into death for. For this woman, he would.

  She swayed before him like temptation itself. Her arms lifted, her hips moved, and all he knew was the remembered feel of her moving beneath him.