by Becky McGraw
When she got to her breasts, she moaned as the rough texture skimmed over her nipples and reminded her of Keegan MacDonald’s slightly calloused hands. She made another pass imagining his hands there instead of the loofah, and a wave of need melted her insides.
God, she was mad enough at him right then to have the best angry sex of her life. When she finished working out her anger on him, he would be begging her to give him a breath. The sexy, snarky, frustrating bastard would be fucked senseless by the time she told him to go to hell and walked away. The image of that pinched look on his face at the café came back and she smiled.
In the shower, she could indulge any fantasy she wanted, so she did. The stress relief of a good orgasm would help take the edge off of her anger, so she didn’t kick him in the nuts when she saw him tonight.
Her hand drifted down between her legs and she leaned against the wall to finger herself. With each rotation, waves of heat washed up her body and she curled her neck to moan in delicious agony. Moisture flooded her folds and her inner walls pulsed with her motions. Her eyes drooped closed and his handsome face appeared.
Those eyes, that hard jaw with the shadow of a beard she wanted to feel between her thighs. That sexy, full mouth she knew would taste as spicy as his snarky words and could give her the pleasure she needed. She bit her bottom lip, pressed against the bundle of nerves harder and her knees went weak as her chin dropped to her chest.
She slid down the wall on a long groan, spread her knees wider and mewled as she brought herself closer to orgasm. “Oh, yes—just like that, Boris,” she praised, as she rolled the swollen bud between her fingers, before stroking it again.
Her other hand skimmed up her body to her breast and she cupped it, flicked her nipple with her thumb and gasped as her body jerked with intense pleasure. A tingle started low in her abdomen, turned into a rush of sensation that swept up her body to her head to make her feel drunk. Waves of pleasure washed through her body and it shook. A moan gurgled in her throat, then turned into a wail as the waves crashed over her, dragged her under, then tossed her out into an angry sea of delicious release.
A long, shuddering sigh escaped her as she extended her boneless legs and rested her head against the cold, wet tile. She felt much better, but she needed to finish her shower quickly now that the water was running cold. She scrambled to her feet, but froze when a masculine growl echoed off of the tile walls.
Snatching back the plastic curtain, Jules leaned her head out and was mortified to see Keegan MacDonald sitting on the toilet stroking himself through his jeans. Her mouth watered as she sized up the bulge behind his zipper, but she dragged her eyes back to his.
“You could’ve just invited me in,” he said, his eyes sparking green fire.
“If I needed you, I would have,” she replied, lifting her chin as anger surged up to choke her. The audacity of this man just slayed her. “What in the hell are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in here?”
“I got the code to the door from God while we were on the hotline. Ask and you shall receive. It looks like we’re going to be roomies, Natasha.”
“When hell freezes over, Boris. I’m calling the police,” Jules growled, as shock rocked through her. Reaching behind her, she turned off the tap, then without caring she was naked, she stepped out of the tub.
She grabbed a towel from under the sink, then stormed to the living room to get her phone. When she picked it up she wanted to scream.
Brand: No idea who he’s with, but it’s very high. Got a call from NSA and you will be sharing your digs with him until the case is over. No other option—just play nice.
Heat suddenly surrounded her and hot breath fanned her neck, raising the hair there. “I see you got the message from on high?” he said, and his voice enflamed the endorphins swimming in her system to fever pitch, which pissed her off more.
The urge to turn around and kick him in that nice package of his was strong, but she resisted. The last thing she needed to add to her list of problems at the moment was a broken toe. She spun to face him and glare up at him.
“I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” she grated, her voice raw. “I’ll sleep on the fucking couch at the club if I have to.”
“Suit yourself,” he replied smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll be in the guest room here. Now, it’s my turn to shower and since turnabout is fair play, you’re invited to watch if you like.” With a wide grin, he turned and her eyes burned holes in his broad back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
How damned hot was it to sit there and listen to her make herself come when he knew she was thinking about him? Hotter than anything he’d ever witnessed in his life.
Keegan quickly soaped up his body with her body wash. The heady floral scent filled his senses to mix with snapshots of Jules Lawson’s gorgeous, naked body. Intoxicated by both, his hand found his cock and he quickly handled his residual problem created by the show.
His toes curled into the pads of his feet and his body tensed. Endorphins built, then surged through his system, his balls tightened and his breath stopped as his tension poured out of him in hot spurts.
With a deep breath of the humid air, he quickly washed off then stepped out of the tub feeling lighter than he had in months. Rotating his shoulder, he walked to the vanity and bent to pull a towel out of the cabinet. Even his shoulder was feeling better at the moment.
He flexed his fingers, then squeezed the side of his right hand and moved his hand up the nerve to his elbow. He sighed when he found it still as numb as it had been since the accident. Pressure built in his chest and dark clouds filled his head, trying to suck him into that vortex, but he fought it. This was as good as it was ever going to ever get, and he just needed to accept that.
Eighty percent was better than useless. Just forget about the fucking teams and help your brothers by finding the asshole who is betraying them and putting them in danger. That’s how you can have their six now. With renewed determination, Keegan dressed then walked out of the bathroom with his towel in hand.
“Where’s your laundry?” he asked as he strode into the living room, but his voice bounced off the walls of the empty apartment.
So she chose to walk six blocks to the club, instead of taking a ride with him. That would make things a lot easier, he thought, as he walked down the hall and found the washing machine. She’d probably be avoiding him like the plague at work, too.
But would that really make things easier for him?
No, because she knew things that could possibly help him. He was sure she had a suspect short list, having been inside for three months now. Opening the lid, he dropped the towel inside, on top of the other things, added some detergent then started the cycle.
Leaning back against the machine, he crossed his arms. He knew everything she’d told her boss so far, which was basically nothing. She could have nothing, but Keegan doubted it. Since she was a new agent on the team, he suspected she was withholding whatever she’d found from her supervisor until she was a hundred percent certain of her facts. In her shoes, he would do the same thing.
As contentious as their relationship was, Keegan doubted without a hammer and chisel she would give up those facts to him, either. He would just have to keep on a full court press until she caved. What that full court press would consist of was the question. How far was he willing to go to get that information from her?
Twenty minutes later, Keegan parked his bike on the side of the bar, took off his jacket and stowed it, then put his helmet on the seat. He caught sight of someone walking down the sidewalk toward the club…no, limping. Jules Lawson was a very hardheaded woman, so it served her right.
Shaking his head, he walked toward the end of the building and met her at the front door to hold it open for her. She shot him a hot look from her mascara-streaked eyes, which peeked from under sweaty bangs that were plastered to her forehead.
She looked like hell warmed over, he thought, but still good eno
ugh to eat.
He strode in behind her and blinked several times until his eyes adjusted to the dim interior then sat on his stool to scan the club. Nobody was there yet, except a couple of the regulars from yesterday, who evidently came early to get pole position by the stage.
The door opened again and Candi gave him a finger wave as she strode by on the arm of a guy in dark aviator glasses with a ball cap pulled low over his eyes. His muscular build and arrogant walk said he could be military but his hair was longer. That meant he was either former military, or a SEAL who didn’t have to abide by the Navy dress code.
If he was a SEAL, at his age, mid-forties, he was probably a Commander. In seven more years, Keegan could’ve been the same. He sighed and watched Candi kiss him goodbye before she walked into the dressing room.
Her boyfriend didn’t take a seat at a table, he sat in a chair at the stage. The side door opened and a thuggish looking man with a long beard walked in. After Rusty checked his ID, he walked directly to the stage and took a chair beside Candi’s boyfriend, where the music would be loudest. Where nobody could overhear anything they had to say. God, he’d love to be a fly on that speaker up there so he could hear what they were talking about when they put their heads close together. He may have found his turd, but he needed more than suspicion.
Keegan would have to snag Candi to ask her boyfriend’s name if she came to the bar for a pre-show drink like she had yesterday. That’s when he’d introduced himself and grilled her about Jules. If he was lucky, maybe he could hit Rusty up to find out the thug’s name too.
As it got closer to eight, though, more and more people filed into the bar and Keegan was too busy checking IDs and sizing up the customers for trouble-making potential to even watch for her. Frank was busy slinging drinks behind the bar, so there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be able to talk to him before closing time.
This working while investigating was seriously slowing him down, but he had to do it or he’d be fired. Then he wouldn’t be able to investigate anything. Catch 22. He imagined that’s what slowed down Jules, too.
Keegan noticed that Candi’s boyfriend left at seven-thirty through the side door, shortly after the thug—and before she took the stage. Something was definitely off. Why would he come inside with her, just to leave before she danced?
Because he was there to meet that thug, not watch her dance.
That moved him to the top of Keegan’s suspect list, but he wondered where the guy placed on Jules’ list, or if he was even on her radar. Finding that out would require talking to her, and she was going to the serving station on the far side of the bar to avoid him.
You can run, Agent Lawson, but you can’t hide because I know just where to find you, and it won’t be on that ratty sofa in the dressing room. I napped on it after we ate breakfast and know you won’t be brave enough to lay your head down there.
See you at home, Natasha.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Hey, Candi,” Keegan said, as he strode over to her when she walked out the back door of the dressing room at two-thirty. He pasted on a grin. “Is your boyfriend picking you up tonight?”
She looked at him and he couldn’t get over how much younger she looked without all the stage makeup she usually wore. He almost felt guilty for hitting on her, because she looked barely eighteen. But a man had to do what he had to do. This woman had information he needed.
“No, Blane said he had to work late tonight, so I’m catching the bus. I’m sorry but I need to hurry or I’ll miss it.” She walked faster, but he easily kept up with her.
“I could give you a ride home, if you like? We could stop for breakfast,” he offered, and she stopped to turn and look at him.
“Are you hitting on me?” she asked, her mouth pursed. “Because, if you are, I have to warn you, Blane might kick your ass. He’s a SEAL.”
One supposition confirmed. That information made his Spidey senses tingle. Now, he was doubly determined find out everything he could from her about his prime suspect.
“I thought he looked familiar,” Keegan said, seizing the opening she’d given him. “I used to be a SEAL too—what’s his last name again? I might know him.”
She shook her index finger side-to-side and smiled. “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” she said with a laugh. “He tells me that all the time when I ask him questions about his work.”
“Well, since I don’t want to die, I won’t ask you that again.” For a little while anyway. “And I promise all I’m looking for is friendship. I want to feed you breakfast and give you a friendly ride home.”
She studied him for a minute, and his shoulders relaxed when she smiled. “I would love that, then. Thank you, Keegan,” she said, sliding her hand under his arm. “When I saw that bike of yours, I wanted a ride anyway.”
His bike was a chick magnet when it was red—now? He could probably have a different woman on the back every night. For a man who said he was off women, he sure had plenty riding bitch on his bike these days.
“I’ll give you a ride anytime you want one, sweetheart,” Keegan said, with a wink.
“You’re definitely flirting with me,” Candi replied, as he dropped her arm.
“Sorry, that’s a natural response when I’m around a beautiful woman.” Keegan grinned as he handed her his helmet from the seat. He opened his saddlebag and pulled out his jacket to slide it on and watched her watching him.
“Where’s your helmet?” she asked, dropping her bag to put on the helmet.
“My head is hard enough to take it,” he replied, tapping his skull and she giggled.
Movement at the corner of the building caught his eye and he saw Jules come around the corner carrying her bag. She stopped and stared. Keegan could almost see the steam coming off the top of her blonde head as she stiffened her shoulders, turned, and marched across the parking lot, away from him.
You didn’t want to ride with me, remember?
It looked like she’d inspected the sofa in the dressing room and found it as disgusting as he did, because she was heading in the direction of the apartment. Shit, she shouldn’t be walking alone in this neighborhood at this time of night.
Worry settled in his chest like a lead weight. Even if they were unilateral partners, they were still partners, he thought with a sigh. He should be watching her six.
“Can we skip breakfast, doll? I’ll drop you off at the bus station, but I just remembered something I need to do.”
Her smile faded and she nodded as she pulled the chin strap on the helmet tight. “That’s fine—I wouldn’t want Blane to catch wind of it, anyway. He gets kind of mean when he’s jealous.”
Keegan’s insides clenched. Kind of mean?
“Does he hit you?” he demanded, his fists curling as anger burned through him.
“No, but he’s come close a couple of times, so I don’t like to push him,” she replied, her voice trembling. “He’s just one of those alpha SEAL guys. That’s how he deals with everyone.”
No, Keegan was one of those alpha SEAL guys and he knew a lot of them too. They were his brothers. None of them would ever hit a woman or threaten to.
“How long have you dated him, Candi? Why do you continue to date him if he threatens you?” he asked, because he couldn’t help himself.
“About six months and he pays for my apartment.” She shrugged. “He’s good to me most of the time.” With a sigh, she unbuckled the helmet and pulled it off to hand it to him. “I think it’s better if I walk, but thank you for the offer.”
Before he could argue, she picked up her bag and took off across the lot. Keegan watched her for a second, then put on his helmet and straddled the bike. If she wasn’t careful, her life could be the price she paid for that apartment with a man like that.
Mind your own business, MacDonald. You can’t save people from themselves.
But he wouldn’t be talking to her again, because that might put her in danger. Now that he had the dickhead’s unusual first nam
e, he felt sure he could get more information on him. Someone at the base had to know him or report to him.
His buddies might even know Blane and they would give him the lowdown as long as it wasn’t OpSec protected. If they weren’t wheels up, maybe he’d go have a beer or lunch with them at the officer’s club on Sunday.
Cranking his bike, Keegan squeezed the throttle and zoomed across the lot to go find Jules and follow her to the apartment. The traffic on the main road was light, so he caught up to her quickly at the corner just a block from the club. She’d pressed the crosswalk button and waited, even though the streets were almost deserted, making her a sitting duck.
He stopped at the curb and knew she knew he was there, because his new pipes were loud enough to wake the neighborhood as he idled nearby.
“Get on the back, Natasha!” he shouted. Her only response was to fold her arms across her chest and stare at the red stick man on the post. Fine—be hardheaded. “You do look like you could use the exercise, so I’ll just follow you.”
“Go to hell!” she shouted, before she stepped off the curb and crossed the street.
Been there and done that for twelve years, sweetheart. Fought the devil and won, so you’re not going to win this battle of wills.
Keegan idled through the intersection and coasted along the curb as she walked. Two blocks later, she stopped at the next crosswalk and stabbed the button. She spun and put her hands on her hips to glare at him.
“Go find Candi. I’m sure she’ll let you sleep at her apartment, since you two are such good friends and you’re not welcome at mine.” She turned back to stare at the crosswalk sign again.
You sound a little jealous, Agent Lawson.
“Oh, I’m welcome. God says so, remember?” he replied, and heard her frustrated growl, even over the throaty engine. Oh, yeah, he was getting to her bad.
