Special Ops Rendezvous

by Karen Anders

  There was an instant, just a heartbeat, when he remained rigid; then his resistance buckled, and he caught her against him in a viselike embrace, emitting a ragged groan as he found her mouth with a kiss that shattered her senses.

  Crowding her against the wall with his big body, his chest heaving, he whispered against her lips, “Need you.” Then more raggedly, he choked out, “Need you, Liv.”

  The words felt thick in her throat. “Take me, Sam. I’m yours. All yours.”

  Their eyes met as he brought her face-to-face with his bold, masculine features, his desperate blue eyes, achingly intense, his chest grazing her throbbing breasts with each deep breath he drew.

  His hand supporting the back of her head, he locked his other arm around her hips, hauling her up against him. He kept his eyes on hers as his mouth opened hungrily against hers, seemingly feeding something essential that raged in him, and Olivia sagged in his arms, the frenzy in her chest making it impossible to breathe. He bracketed her face, asking for more, desperate for more, and she yielded, giving access, drawing him deeper and deeper into her as he probed the moist recesses, as if he were famished for the taste of her. Another guttural sound was torn from him as she moved against him, and he widened his stance, pulling her hard against his groin, thrusting against her with a thick, heavy need. Olivia cried out, and he drank in the sound of her response, the feel of his hardness making her heart pound and clamor as a rush of hot, pulsating desire slammed through her. Caught up in a delirium of need, she twisted against him, and the passion in him exploded, his hunger turning desperate, his need ranging out of control.

  She grasped the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, the metal of his dog tags jiggling softly, gleaming in the light. They settled against the thick muscles of his pectorals. She sent her palms over his erect nipples.

  His eyes flared wide in response, giving her a brief glimpse of passion, heat and something else warring in their hot blue depths. Before she could analyze that last emotion, before she could release the air trapped in her lungs, he dragged her top off in one smooth motion. His hands caged her ribs, traveling up until he cupped her breasts through the black lace of her bra, squeezing her just shy of pain. His hands branded her through the sheer mesh, his thumbs pressing and rolling her nipples.

  “Come closer, Sam.”

  Chapter 12

  He took a ragged breath and bent his head and she cupped his face in her hands, sending her thumb over his mouth. The sensual assault on her breasts and the feel of his mouth beneath her thumb was ramping up her desire into a tightly wound ache between her thighs. “Closer, babe,” she pleaded. He brought his mouth within a hot breath. Openmouthed, she brushed his lips. He was panting against her mouth, his body vibrating. The teasing was torturous as she held back firm contact each time he tried to press his mouth.

  “You make me crazy. Beautiful, beautiful, Liv.”

  “I love your mouth, Sam. I want to devour you.” He rolled his head and groaned as she traced his mouth with the tip of her tongue. He let her play with him, tolerated her tasting him the way she wanted to. But then he lost his patience and pressed forward, brushing his mouth against hers. When he slid his tongue against her lower lip, she opened her mouth and eagerly let him inside. He deepened the kiss, voracious and hungry, and she answered by sliding her body sensually against his in a rhythm that matched the thrust of his tongue.

  Without warning, he broke the kiss and lifted her breast to his mouth. Holding her ruthlessly, he took her nipple with his teeth and she cried out, arching her back away from the wall. The sound of her bra snapping in the middle made her stomach jump. When his lips brushed across the beaded knot of flesh bared to him, she nearly wept with relief. His tongue swirled until he finally drew a nipple into his hot, wet mouth and suckled her. He tugged at her nipple. “Sam, please,” she whispered.

  Inhaling deeply, he groaned like a dying man, his mouth coming back to hers, open and hot, pinning her between the wall and his hard, fierce body. His silky tongue thrust deep and tangled with hers, and he crushed his smooth chest to her breasts, the heat of him setting her blood on fire. Widening his stance so his knees bracketed hers, he rolled his hips, grinding his rock-hardness against where she needed him.

  She moaned into his mouth and flattened her hands on the wall behind her, needing the connection with something solid because Sam was consuming her.

  * * *

  His eyes gleamed. Tearing open the button on her jeans, his hands pushed into the waistband of the denim and underwear, slid them over her hips and around to her buttocks. He shoved the material down her legs. “Step out of them.”

  When she obeyed, he kicked them out of the way.

  “I’m not sure I can be gentle...” he rasped.

  She didn’t want gentle. A tiny thrill shot through her. Sam was at his most virile, his sexiest when he took her roughly but not enough to hurt her. He seemed to know exactly the right amount of pressure— powerful but just short of pain.

  “Bring it on.”

  Reaching for his own fly, his movements frantic, she pushed his hands out of the way and did it herself. He braced his hands on the wall and bowed his head. His chest tightened through his arms, his biceps bulging in hard relief. That powerful male stance, his hips slightly cocked, his rippling washboard abs drawing her as she palmed him all the way to the waistband of his jeans. He trembled and groaned when she helplessly reversed her hand and cupped him through the fabric, heavy, hard and hot in her hand.

  His eyes went dark and fevered with desire, his mouth so gorgeous she ached to kiss him. “Sam,” she said softly. “Sam.”

  “Take them off, Liv. Now.”

  His demanding tone only made her blood pump harder. Her mind slid into a long, slow spin and she pulled down the zipper, unable to resist palming the tip of his erection. He thrust powerfully into her hand, his head twisting, his throat vibrating from a powerful growl in his throat. She peeled his jeans back, delving between his smooth, hot skin and the soft cotton of his underwear and pushing. He thrust his hips again as she brushed against his groin.

  She pushed them all the way off him, and he stepped out of them and kicked them away. He pressed his naked body against hers

  He pushed off the wall. One of his hands grasped her hip while the other slipped over her bottom, past her thigh, and he hooked his long fingers behind her knee. He lifted her leg up to his waist, wedged his thighs tight between hers and pressed his hard-on to her intimately. Every hard inch of him.

  It was all the pressure she could handle against her moist, swollen flesh as a white-hot burst of pleasure rippled over her in fierce waves.

  Then he grasped her other leg as he lifted her, using the wall to brace her against his hard hips, effectively trapping her with the weight of his body.

  Staring into her eyes, he said, “Wrap your legs around my waist.” As she continued to ache for him, he drove into her strong and deep, penetrating her to the hilt with that first unrestrained thrust, and she came with a stabbing, exquisite sensation, her hips bucking against his.

  Her reaction elicited a low, throaty, on-the-edge moan from him, and he crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her with a desperate, fierce passion that caught her off guard. His tongue swept into her mouth, matching the rapid strokes of his hips and the slick, hard slide of his flesh pumping into hers.

  Tremors radiated through her right where they were joined. She felt possessed by him, body and soul, in a way that defied their short time together. In a way that aroused feelings that had no business being a part of this temporary relationship.

  Then she lost her mind, holding on to him, the pleasure so delicious, so intense, she gasped against his neck, biting him. She locked her legs around his waist more firmly to pull him closer, deeper.

  It was clear Sam could no longer hold back. As she reached the
peak of her climax, he groaned, broke their kiss and tossed his head back, his hips driving hard, his body tightening, straining against hers.

  “Liv.” He hissed her name out between clenched teeth as his body convulsed with the force of his release.

  * * *

  Olivia was his lifeline, his connection, his touchstone to keep him from going off the deep end. He still needed her. Still semihard, he pulled out of her, even as she was gasping. He held her tightly to his body and headed for the bedroom.

  “Sam,” she said softly, her voice so tender his heart ached. When he hit the bed, he folded down on top of her, his dick already tightening, hardening fully again.

  He looked down at her, caressing her with his eyes as they ran over her beauty from her mussed hair to her polished toes.

  He trembled with the realization of what he’d found out, but he pushed that away. He would deal with it. They would deal with it because he knew she was going to be there every step of the way with him.

  He relived the panic when he’d thought she was going to leave. The thought of being alone with this knowledge and the fear of not being in control of himself shuddered through him.

  He closed his eyes and the panic twisted and gouged at him until he felt her hands on him, sliding up his thighs to his hips.

  Slipping his arm around her lower back, he jerked her hips against his throbbing erection. He caressed her cheek with his palm, felt her tremble with a renewed urgency, and lowered his mouth to hers. He smoothed his hand over her breasts, pinching her nipple until she cried out into his mouth.

  Despite her attempts to quicken the pace, to devour him, he controlled her response until she softened against him.

  When he finally felt her relax, he loosened his hold.

  He glided his lips along her jaw and her hands pressed against his chest, her nails lightly grazing his taut flesh. He swirled his tongue down the side of her neck and filled his palms with her generous breasts and she released a soft groan. Dipping his head, he laved her nipples with his tongue, drew them into his mouth, sucking first one, then the other stiffened crest.

  She cried out hoarsely and moved restlessly against him in a silent plea for more. She dragged her palm over his short hair, holding him in place, encouraging a deeper pressure of his mouth on her breast. He gave her everything she wanted, but at his own leisurely pace, which increased her excitement, her need for him, just as he intended.

  But when she thrust her hips against his and whispered his name like a prayer, he lifted his head, fitting his length between her spread thighs and braced his arms on either side of her head so that they were face-to-face. Refusing to let her look away, he stared into her eyes, watched her expression as he slowly pushed into her. Without the barrier of a condom, she enveloped him in a tight, slick heat that made him suck in a quick breath at the exquisite sensation of being one with her, without anything to separate flesh from flesh.

  She gasped when he grabbed her wrists and raised them over her head, pinning her down as she writhed beneath him. “You feel so good with nothing between us. So hot and so damn tight.”

  She closed her eyes and moaned as he thrust into her—long, slow strokes that increased the building pressure, the incredible, delicious friction. He bent his head, brushing his mouth over hers. Kissing her lips, he chased her tongue with his and arched his hips high and hard, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist as he rocked against her over and over.

  He trembled inside and had never felt such emotion for any woman he’d been with. Nothing had ever felt this good.

  Then he pushed into her hard over and over, slipping his hand between them and stimulating her. Her breath hitched with each thrust, her hips meeting his. “Come for me, Liv.”

  And she did, dropping over the edge, her eyes glazing over, her eyelids fluttering closed, her powerful contractions pulling him over with her into that sweet, violent release.

  With him every inch of the way.

  * * *

  Dan Henderson was just going off duty after being relieved by a fellow agent for the night. As he came down the stairs, heading for the guesthouse, he saw Robert D’Angelis. The veteran agent had been with Kate’s detail since she was vice president.

  But something was obviously wrong with him. He was talking on the phone, his face screwed up in anger. Although Dan couldn’t hear what he was saying, he was definitely shouting. Concerned, and mildly curious, he stood on the pool deck and waited.

  D’Angelis saw him there, and something flashed across his face and he barked something else into the phone and hung up.

  He smiled affably when he turned and crossed over to Dan. “Henderson,” he said. “I was just heading to the guesthouse. You done for the night, too?”

  “Yes,” he responded, falling into step with Robert. “Is everything all right?”

  “Kids. They’re always trying to push the boundaries.”

  “Ah, I was not much of a rebel when I was young.” Dan shrugged. “Pretty boring, in fact.” They walked along the stone path, lush with greenery and flowering plants, the scent of spring in the air.

  “Well, daughters can be trying, especially teenagers. Really get you worked up.” When they reached the front door and stepped inside, Robert said, “Well, good night, Henderson.” Then he disappeared into his appointed room.

  Something about the man’s hurried explanation just didn’t sit right with Dan. He had to wonder if he was now starting to get paranoid.

  He shook his head and headed for his own room.

  * * *

  The Suit slipped into the apartment without a sound. There were two silenced shots. Burroughs and Hempstill were nothing but liabilities, and he’d been smart enough to clean up his mess. He was a shadow as he slipped back out. Now if he could get close enough to Olivia Owens. She had been nothing but a pain in the ass since she showed up. If he got an opening, he wasn’t going to worry about questioning her anymore. Winston’s job was fast approaching, and even through Jeffers might have given him information, it didn’t matter. Winston’s will had been broken. Once he carried out what the Cartel wanted, he’d be either dead or imprisoned. It would be up to the Suit to take out Kate Winston. The leader of the Cartel realized they were already compromised with Harris’s failure. Once the Winstons were taken care of, that would just leave Owens, unprotected and alone. He could bide his time.

  * * *

  Sam shivered in his sleep, a deep tremble, and shifted. Olivia opened her eyes. It was still dark. He was breathing strangely, as if he was running a mile instead of lying on his mattress. When she raised herself up on her elbow, he was covered in sweat and with surprise that rumbled like a shock wave through her, she saw that his blue eyes were open.

  But he wasn’t here in this room.

  He was back there.

  Back in the compound in Afghanistan.

  He rose out of bed and started to walk until he was in the middle of the room. He stood there, his fists clenched, his whole naked body rigid.

  In a broken voice, he kept repeating, “No, no, no....”

  She snapped on the light, but he made no indication that it registered. He didn’t flinch or blink or look at her.

  He looked worse and worse by the minute. His chest heaved, sweat running in rivulets off him. He closed his eyes tightly and whimpered, then cried out in pain, twisted and fell to his knees. The sounds he made were like an animal in pain.

  Olivia scrambled out of bed and ran over to him, thinking that waking him up would be the best thing that she could do.

  But before she reached him, he lifted his head and screamed in horror. Then he gathered his breath and screamed again, over and over.

  This was a bad episode. She instinctively knew that something from the interrogation of that man had to have set him off.

  S
he couldn’t stand there and watch this. Without thinking about her safety, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Sam! It’s a nightmare. Wake up!”

  His eyes went wild and he looked at her as if she were the most hideous monster on the planet. He broke her hold and shoved her, knocking her back and away from him. He was shaking and dry-heaving, moaning.

  “Sam,” she said softly. He backed up on all fours until his back hit the wall. His face crumpled and his painful cries tore at her. She took a deep breath and pushed up off the floor and rushed to him before he could react. She straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into the hollow of his throat.

  He sagged and then she felt the change in him.

  “Olivia,” he said, his tone confused and shaky, his voice hoarse.

  “You had a nightmare,” she said, but when she raised her face to his, his eyes filled with tenderness.

  “Why are you crying? What did I...” His eyes zeroed in on the scared look on her face. “Dammit, did I hurt you?”

  She said in a rush, “You didn’t know it was me. I wasn’t crying because you shoved me. It was the pain and agony you were going through in that nightmare. It hurt so much to see you like that. I wasn’t letting you go through that if I could help in any way. I couldn’t stand by and watch that and do nothing.”

  Cupping his jaw, she brushed a kiss against his mouth, then she eased back and looked at him. His face was ravaged by strain, with lines of soul-deep weariness around his eyes and mouth, but what made her heart contract was the tormented look in his eyes, as if he was so raw he simply couldn’t handle much more. And she realized Sam had never been vulnerable like this, and that only made her heart hurt even more.

  Desperate to soothe that horror off his face and in his eyes, she placed soft, tender kisses on his temples, brushing her lips against his forehead, the hollow of his cheeks and his mouth. He stirred and pressed his mouth against hers.