Kick A** Heroines Box Set: The UltimatumFatal AffairAfter the DarkBulletproof SEAL (The Guardian)

by Karen Robards

“No.” Jeff dug his fingers into the flesh of Quinn’s arms. “On the job.”

  Quinn’s eyes met Rikki’s for a split second, and her heart flip-flopped. The CIA on the job in New Orleans? She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t stay with Quinn any longer.

  Quinn tugged Jeff’s shirt back down over his stomach. “I don’t see any weapon wounds.”

  “No weapons.” Jeff closed his eyes. “Unless you count the guy’s fists.”

  “You need some ice.” Rikki dabbed the last of the blood from Jeff’s face. She gathered the bloodstained towels and wrapped them in a plastic bag. She loaded another plastic bag with ice.

  When she returned to the living room, Quinn had helped Jeff onto the sofa. Without the blood smearing his face, Jeff no longer looked half-dead.

  Rikki perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing Jeff. She thrust the bag of ice at him. “Here. Can you manage?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Jeff grabbed the impromptu ice pack and pressed it against the lump forming around his eye.

  Quinn started for the hallway. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen and water.”

  As Quinn walked away, Rikki scooted off the table. “I’ll get the water.”

  She and Quinn returned to Jeff’s side at about the same time, and Rikki noticed Quinn had pulled on his shorts. That made two times she’d seen the man almost naked in one night, and she didn’t have to use her imagination for the rest. They’d spent two whole days together in his hotel room sans clothing. Answering the door for room service had been the only times either of them had slipped into something to cover their nakedness.

  Rikki tucked her hair behind one ear and held out the bottle to Jeff. “Here you go. Feeling better?”

  She just hoped to God her disguise would see her through and Jeff wouldn’t recognize her, but then nobody in the CIA would be expecting to run into Rikki Taylor—the dead double agent.

  “I feel a lot better.” Jeff tapped his jaw and winced. “I’m really sorry about intruding here.”

  Heat prickled Rikki’s cheeks. If only. “Oh, no, we…”

  Quinn shrugged and dragged Rikki against his side with one arm, his hand resting perilously close to the under-curve of her breast, his warm skin soaking through the thin material of her blouse.

  In her haste, Rikki had yanked on her top but hadn’t bothered with a bra and Quinn seemed to be taking full advantage of that fact.

  “Yeah, man, bad timing.”

  Rikki bit her bottom lip. Definitely taking advantage.

  “I’ll be out of your way tomorrow morning. If I can just stay the night, I think can get back on track.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need medical care?”

  “I could use some, but there’s nothing urgent. Nothing that can’t wait for tomorrow. I’m really sorry, Quinn.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I was here. Can you tell me what you were doing in New Orleans?”

  “Can’t do that, man, not even for a badass Navy SEAL, and especially not in front of your girl here.”

  “Me?” Rikki tried to wriggle out of Quinn’s grasp, but he wasn’t having it.

  His fingers curled into the curve of her hip. “She can go into the other room.”

  Rikki nodded, anxious to escape Quinn’s realm where she had zero discipline and even less self-control.

  “Sworn to secrecy. You know the drill.”

  “I do know the drill. I wouldn’t tell you about my next mission, either.” Quinn jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a spare room with a sofa bed all made up. I even have a few extra toothbrushes.”

  Rikki bumped Quinn’s hip with her own. “Maybe Jeff would be more comfortable out here.”

  Jeff tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck. “Honestly? Stretching out on a bed sounds like a sure cure for me right now.”

  “Make sure that bed’s made up for Jeff, honey.” Quinn gave her a little shove from behind, and Rikki clenched her fist at her side. He was milking this situation to the max.

  She could raise a fuss in front of this CIA agent, someone who would recognize the name Rikki Taylor immediately, but why tempt fate on this crazy night? “Sure, of course. Why don’t you find him a toothbrush and clean towel?”

  “I owe you one, McBride, more than one.”

  Rikki scurried down the hallway and slipped into the office. She smoothed out the covers on the sofa bed and grabbed the rest of her clothes and her purse. Then she crossed the hall to Quinn’s bedroom.

  As long as he’d invited her into his inner sanctum, she’d make herself at home. She swung open the walk-in closet and dragged a T-shirt off its hanger. Still inside the closet, she pulled the blouse over her head and replaced it with Quinn’s T-shirt.

  Beneath the T-shirt, she skimmed her hands over her body. Would he be able to tell she’d given birth nine months ago? She cupped her breasts, which still felt heavy although she’d given up breastfeeding a month ago in anticipation of her journey.

  Reaching around outside the closet, she flicked off the light. Quinn McBride would not be getting a look at her naked body.

  The bedroom door clicked softly as she stepped out of the closet.

  Quinn’s head jerked up. “Where’d you come from? I thought maybe you’d slipped out onto the ledge again.”

  She tugged at the hem of the T-shirt. “Thought I’d find some proper sleepwear.”

  His dark gaze scorched her head to toe, making her feel as if she were standing in front of him without a stitch on instead of in a baggy shirt.

  “Sorry about that. Jeff deserved my full hospitality after what he’d been through. I had to offer him that bed.”

  She wedged a hand on her hip. “You’re not sorry. You jumped at the chance to kick me out of that bed and lure me into this one.”

  A slow smile claimed Quinn’s wide mouth. “I saw it as a win-win.”

  He crossed to the other side of the king-size bed and flipped down the messy covers. “Be my guest.”

  Rikki folded her arms, grabbing handfuls of the cotton material of the T-shirt, her gaze darting around the room. She leveled a finger at the floor. “You can sleep there for just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept on harder surfaces than that in your illustrious career as a Navy SEAL sniper.”

  “Not happening.” He set his jaw in a hard line. “The bed’s big enough for the two of us. You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

  She looked him up and down—all six feet three inches of rippling muscle. “This bed is barely big enough for you.”

  “On my honor—” he drew a cross over his heart “—I’m not gonna lay a finger on you, Rikki. What kind of caveman do you take me for?”

  Her eyes flickered across his broad shoulders. The thoroughly delicious kind. “Okay, okay. We both need our rest anyway.”

  Quinn returned to his side of the bed and dropped his shorts.

  Holding her breath, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Those shorts had better be the only piece of clothing he planned to shed. She eased out that captive breath when he slid between the sheets in his briefs.

  As she positioned herself at the very edge of her side of the bed, Quinn punched a pillow and said, “At least we know your identity is still safe.”

  Her eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”

  “Rikki.”

  The mattress dipped and she knew he’d turned toward her. “What? What does that mean, I’m safe?”

  “You didn’t figure it out?”

  “Figure what out?” She rolled onto her back, her head falling to the side.

  “Jeff was your contact person.”

  She hoisted herself up abruptly, banging her head against the soaring headboard. “No.”

  “Of course he was. Instead of meeting you at the Gator Lounge, he met up with someone wh
o wanted to replace him. The man you saw in the bar, the man who marched you out at gunpoint, is the same man who beat up Jeff and stole his baseball cap.”

  Rikki covered her face with her hands. Of course. How could she be so stupid? Had she really believed two CIA covert ops were going on in New Orleans at the same time?

  Motherhood had affected her brain in more ways than one. Or maybe she could chalk it up to the distracting presence of Quinn.

  “You see that, right?”

  “I-I-I do now. Of course, that’s clear. I’m an idiot.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had a rough night, a rough year.” He smoothed his palm up her thigh, froze and then snatched his hand away. “Sorry.”

  His touch had sent goose bumps racing up her inner thighs. “You’re right. I didn’t register for Jeff at all except as your late-night booty call.”

  A laugh rumbled in Quinn’s chest. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Look, Jeff doesn’t know who he was supposed to meet or why. You were smart to stick to code words and exchanges instead of descriptions.”

  She wriggled up higher against the pillow. “But where’s that flash drive? Do you think he has it on him?”

  “Do you really think the guy who beat him up and stole his hat didn’t search him? Maybe he didn’t want to have the flash drive on him when he met you. Maybe he left it somewhere in case the meeting didn’t come off—which it didn’t.”

  “If he takes a shower tomorrow morning, I’m not above searching through his clothes.”

  “I’ll strongly advise him to take a shower.”

  “Wait.” She sat up straight, crossing her legs beneath her, under the covers. “Why did he come here?”

  “For help. Jeff and I go way back. He knows I live in New Orleans. He’s been to my place a few times. He came to me for help.” A muscle ticked in Quinn’s jaw. “You don’t think I had anything to do with his coming here, do you? I hope we’re past that suspicion. If I’d wanted to turn you over to the Agency, I could’ve done it hours ago.”

  “We’re past that.” She grabbed the pillow and slid down again, pulling it beneath her head.

  “Good. Get some sleep.”

  Still on her back, Rikki shifted her gaze to the right, taking in Quinn’s large frame, positioned on his side, facing her. He’d pushed the covers down to his waist, although the air-conditioning had cooled the room down to a comfortable temperature.

  Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she drank in the lines of his body, the hard muscles, even in repose, still etched beneath his smooth flesh.

  Before she knew what she was doing, before she could stop herself, her hand shot out and she traced her fingertips around one of his brown nipples.

  He sucked in a breath. “You don’t want this, remember? Don’t tease me, Rikki.”

  She snatched her hand back and rolled to her side, away from him and his irresistible body. “You’re right.”

  Quinn released a long, shuddering breath.

  She had teased him with her light touch, had made him hard. Sighing, she drew her knees to her chest, thrusting out her backside, the heat of Quinn’s body inches away. Just inches.

  She yawned and wriggled into place, her toes skimming his shin, the hair on his leg tickling her.

  “Rikki.”

  She edged toward him, curling one arm around his waist. “Maybe just once, for old times’ sake.”

  He hissed through his teeth. “You’re sure about this?”

  She pulled her body closer to his, her front flush against his, and breathed into his ear. “I’m sure.”

  She edged her fingers between the elastic of his briefs and the flat, hard muscles of his abdomen, dragging her nails along the tip of his erection, barely contained by the thin cotton of his underwear.

  He shivered. “I’ve been imagining that all night, but nothing tops the real thing.”

  She plunged her hand deeper and cupped him with her palm while stroking his tight flesh with her thumb. Her voice, rough with desire, rasped in his ear. “Take me like only you can.”

  His erection throbbed in her hand, and she could feel her bones melt and her breasts soften in anticipation of his fiery touch.

  Quinn hesitated for just a second until Rikki squeezed him and bit the back of his neck.

  In one motion, Quinn rose to his knees and ripped the covers from them both. Towering over her, bulging from the confines of his briefs, he growled, “Take them off.”

  Tingles rushed through her body at his gruff tone of voice, and she started the game. Leaning forward, she took the band of his briefs between her teeth and dragged them down, over his erection. She continued pulling down his underwear with her mouth, past the flaring muscles of his thighs, down to his knees, buried in the mattress of the bed.

  Closing his eyes, he plowed his fingers through her hair. “I can pretend it’s the fiery red I love.”

  “Shh.” She pressed the pad of her thumb to his lips.

  His fingers dug into her scalp as he urged her down. “Take me in your mouth. Taste me.”

  She closed her lips around his girth, and he moaned in rhythm as she drew him in and out of her mouth.

  He pulled away from her, sitting back on his heels. “It’s been too long. I can’t last like that.”

  She caressed his shoulders and kissed the spot right above his left nipple. “Tell me what to do next.”

  He grabbed a fistful of T-shirt. “You can take this off for starters. Why are you still covered?”

  She clutched the edge of the shirt, suddenly shy. Would he notice the differences in her body? Would he know what they meant?

  She’d been rail-thin when she escaped from the labor camp, four months pregnant. Undernourished and overworked, she’d feared for the life of her baby. If she’d been captive any more than the two months she’d endured, she would’ve lost Bella for sure.

  Instead, she’d wound up in Jamaica with her mother and Chaz, and Mom had coddled her through the duration of her pregnancy, kept her in bed the first two months, well fed and stationary.

  Rikki had put on more than enough weight for her pregnancy, and Bella, although born a few weeks early, had posted a healthy weight and length.

  During the pregnancy and after, Rikki’s breasts had increased in size and softened, her hips had widened, too, and she presented a much different figure than the taut, tight athlete Quinn had first bedded in Dubai.

  Impatient with her reluctance, Quinn dragged the T-shirt from her body and yanked down her panties. “That’s much better.”

  With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Rikki watched Quinn study her new body. His eyes darkened to unfathomable depths.

  Then he reached out and cupped her breasts. The thrill of his touch shot down to her belly and lower, creating an aching need. She arched her back, thrusting her chest forward.

  He juggled her breasts in his hands as if testing their heft. “I like this new development.”

  He molded her waist with his palms and reached back to stroke her derriere. “And this. When you get your job back with the Agency, you should let them know you wanna lay off the PT because someone likes your new curves.”

  One side of her mouth crooked into a smile. He approved of her appearance, and more important, he’d dismissed it as the lack of rigorous physical training on her part. Not that she planned to keep Bella a secret from him forever. She just needed to get through this, get her life back, and then she’d tell Quinn everything—no strings attached.

  He kissed her mouth. “What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m just glad you like the difference.”

  “You’re kidding. I wouldn’t think you’d give a damn one way or the other.” He eased her back onto the bed and straddled her on his knees. He lowered his body and squeezed her breasts around the tip of his erection. �
��But just in case you do give a damn and need proof? Here it is, baby.”

  He skimmed his tip down the length of her body, prodding between her legs.

  Her knees fell open, inviting him in, inviting him home.

  He stretched out on the bed on his stomach, between her legs, his own hanging off the foot of the bed. He placed his hands against her inner thighs and spread them apart.

  Butterflies swirled in her stomach, and her legs shook.

  Quinn dragged his scruffy chin over her soft flesh, drawing a gasp from her lips. Then he probed her with the tip of his tongue, searching out all her secret places.

  She stretched her arms over her head, crossing them at the wrists, in total supplication and surrender. Raising her hips off the bed, she choked out, “More, please don’t stop.”

  “Oh, I won’t stop, my little Buttercup, but you wanted to play this game, didn’t you?”

  The teasing glint in his eye had her desperate laugh ending on a hiccup. Her job demanded that she be strong, in control, tough as nails, and she’d delivered. When she first met Quinn, he’d joked that she could scare the buttercups off their stems. So when she became soft and vulnerable for him, just for him, he’d started calling her Buttercup. It still made her weak in the knees.

  But he hadn’t forgotten the game they played, and he began in earnest. He removed his tongue from her throbbing, swollen flesh and nibbled on the insides of her thighs. He touched her everywhere in every way, except for the pleasure spot between her legs.

  He set every nerve ending on fire, had her thrashing her head from side to side, digging her fingernails into his buttocks, wrapping her legs around his hips—until she quivered and begged beneath him.

  “Please, Quinn. Please. I’m aching.”

  He sat back, his erection bobbing in front of him, his skin flushed, obviously experiencing the same frustrated, agonizing pleasure she was—but that wasn’t their game.

  “I need you. Only you. I’m begging you.”

  He gave her burning nipple one more tweak. “Since you asked so nicely, Buttercup.”

  He buried his head between her thighs, and two flicks from his tongue sent her over the edge.

  Her orgasm roared through her, wringing the strength from every inch of her body, draining her, releasing her from every expectation, every responsibility, the sensations of her body taking over her mind, flooding it with pleasure.