The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set

by Cristin Harber

  “I told you I was calling the shots here. That’s the only reason you got your hands back.”

  “I got my hands back because–”

  He stopped her with a suck on her bare nipple.

  She bucked against him, then ran her hand over her breasts, massaging. “You were moving too slow.”

  Too slow? He was worried about moving too fast. His mind spun circles. Christ, if he died on this op, she’d be to blame because she was killing him.

  He gave her ass a swift lift and tugged off the pants and small scrap of lace covering her, tossing it aside. She lay naked before him, a smile lighting her face. She wanted him. Trusted him. That was no small feat after the days she’d had recently.

  He wicked his fingers over her wet folds with more pressure, tightening his attention on her clit. Arousal poured off of her, musky and mouth-watering.

  “Stop teasing me, Colby.”

  “Honey, we’ve only just begun.”

  “I can’t handle it. I need release. Now.”

  “You will.” It was a promise he would keep more than once.

  “Please.”

  He tried to shush her.

  Mia reached for him. “Don’t make me beg.”

  He rolled between her legs and kissed. She tasted extraordinary. Sweet and memorable. Her pleas broke off. Harsh breaths forced past her lips.

  “You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget the hell you’ve endured.” He’d do anything to wipe the attacks from her memory.

  “Promise me.”

  “Promise.”

  He spread her wide, lashing his tongue over her. Her juices wept down his chin. Mia flexed toward him, calling his name. Damn straight, she could wear out his name. He loved hearing it pour off her tongue.

  She fisted the comforter in one hand and drifted her other down her stomach. Her fingers met his tongue. The sensation whipped lightning-fast down his spine. She grazed, dancing with his kiss, and moved him swifter and harder. Her cries were louder, her legs spread further, heels digging trenches into the mattress.

  He paused to watch. She wasn’t shy and thank God, because this worked for him in ways he didn’t know. A possessive need flashed, and he joined back in, his tongue commingled with her fingers.

  “More.”

  Sure thing. He’d take orders from her. He speared her tight entrance with two fingers. Mia clamped around him. Such a tight pussy. Liquid fire coating his fingers. He’d explode if he entered her. She deserved better than an eight second rodeo, which was all he’d probably muster at the moment. He tried and failed to recount the steps of cleaning his rifle. He tried to list the phonetic alphabet. Backwards. Zeta. Yankee. X-ray. Nothing helped.

  “Colby,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t stop. Harder. I need more.”

  Harder. He could do harder. He could do whatever the hell she told him to do. He grabbed her ass, holding her tight against his mouth. She pulled from him, pushed toward him, but it didn’t matter.

  Finally, he couldn’t handle anymore and rumbled into her sweetness, the vibrations tearing the last shreds of her climb into an untamed climax. She bucked hard against his mouth, her hands ripping through his hair. She could pull every last strand out if it meant that orgasm was as strong as it sounded. She cried his name and cursed him. He forced her through it until the last of her ripples crossed his tongue, and she went limp.

  One deep breath, then another. He released her from a grip that may have been far too tight. Marks outlined where he held her in place, but the satisfaction on her face did something barbaric to his need for her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Their break didn’t last long. Mia lifted her head from the mattress and snagged him with a look. “I need you. Now.”

  Yes, ma’am. That’ll work for me, too.

  She reached for his hair and ran her fingers through it. Nice to know he still had some. Directing him from his knees, she tore at his shirt. “Get this off.”

  It was only then he realized he hadn’t disarmed. Very gentleman like. Shit. He stood, and un-holstered his Glock from the small of his back. The smooth metal was cold in his hand, a violent contrast to her sizzle and warmth.

  One-handed, he pulled the slide, released the clip, unloading it in one swift move. The magazine hit the floor. He emptied the round in the chamber and placed his concealed carry on the nightstand.

  “Show off.” She laughed, looking impressed.

  “You liked it,” he said an octave lower than normal, saturated in arousal. He wanted to impress her. Needed her to see him as something beyond a street fighter, even if it was only a quick trick.

  The gun holstered under his pant leg was still loaded. No way would he leave them vulnerable. Her fingers brushed over his belt clasp, working the buckle. His erection pressed hard into his pants, wanting her touch.

  “I wasn’t complaining.” She rounded her hands onto his ass, encouraging him to step out of his pants and boxer briefs. He unstrapped the remaining holsters, set his backup and his tactical knife on the nightstand, and dropped trou.

  His hard-on, freed of restraint, reached for her, and she didn’t hesitate. Mia clasped her hands around him. He grabbed a condom from his pants pocket. She stroked him, thumbing the crown of his cock, then took the condom from him. She tore it open and slid it down. One surprise after another.

  “Come here.” He growled into her ear, praying he wouldn’t have to beg.

  They moved to the middle of the bed, and he loomed over her. Had there ever been a more beautiful face looking up at him? Her bottom lip quivered. Her cheeks were flushed. She was stunning.

  He guided his cock against her tight entrance. The tip teased, dipping in and pressing against her accepting muscles. Heaven help him. This minx could steal his soul if he didn’t put up a barrier.

  As he inched in, she pulled him down to her, urging him. Waiting any longer wasn’t possible. He took advantage of her offer. He filled her. For a hot second, he almost lost it at first full thrust.

  Deeper, then deeper again. Still it wasn’t enough. All of him, hugged tight by her. It shouldn’t feel this good. She shouldn’t be as accepting as she was, melting around him. Her muscles tightened, and she crushed a kiss on him, taking his lip and sucking hard.

  Sweat slid down his shoulders. Moisture poured between their skin, from their kisses to their slick connection. Her legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. Her entire body hung on him, taut with a rabid hunger.

  He pounded into her harder. Almost too hard. The sound of their slapping flesh burned his ears. She didn’t fight it. No, she seemed to crave it as much as he did. Her hips moved with him, begged him to keep up the intensity.

  The lights were on. His woman was wild. They were out of control and completely in sync. Sweet addiction, have mercy. He struggled for more, struggled for restraint, but reveled in the complete lecherous abandon.

  “Colby, please.” She begged, muscles constricting on his shaft. “Make me come again. Now.”

  It was all he needed to push into overdrive. Palming her ass off the mattress, he gripped tight, fingers flexed, and aimed to please. He needed to explode, but not until that beautiful face had unraveled again. She’d come on his cock if it killed him.

  A low growl choked from his throat. It was the desperate plea of a man waiting to detonate. Her head dropped back with a hoarse howl. Her pussy tightened, rippling over him. She called his name from some bottomless depth he’d never heard from a woman before. Her body bucked into his thrusts, her arms wrapped strangle-hold tight around his neck.

  He came right after her. Every muscle in his body strained. He flexed the last thrusts, then collapsed over her. She was saved from crushing death by his caging forearms. Their sweaty cheeks pressed together, mouths agape.

  Hard pants burned from his lungs. His chest heaved, shoulders rising and falling in sated, breathless satisfaction. Strands of her hair stuck to her forehead. To his forehead. Her eyelashes grazed his temple. Tonight defined world-s
topping, better-than-amazing sex. And the only thing he could focus on was her.

  Mine.

  Possession blazed, shaking its fist, shouting into the night.

  Minutes passed and neither moved. Their breathing stabilized together in painstaking slowness. One finger at a time, her hands relaxed from their death grip, and her legs unhooked.

  She didn’t say a word. And thank God, because he had no idea what just happened.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Colby’s hard body held her still. Mia just existed. No thinking. No worrying. Nothing. She felt her limp, loose body sprawled on rumpled sheets. Numb satisfaction pulsed. Her fingertips tickled. Blood slowed its screaming rush in her ears. The taste of his kiss lingered, robust and vibrant, on her tongue.

  That incredible ride was more than memorable. Repercussions of Colby ricocheted up, down, and all around her mind and body.

  It felt like a night of firsts. The first time a man hovered over her, his stomach damp with their perspiration. Though it wasn’t. The first time a man made her cry out his name. No, that was a first. She truly lost control and begged. She cried his name in need and thanksgiving without thought or motivation. Yes, definitely firsts.

  This night was different. His piston-powered force drove her to the edge and fell with her. She shuddered, recalling the pained look on his face, his teeth gritted, and muscles contracting around her. He held out for her.

  He looked Herculean and chiseled, scarred and battle-ridden. The most handsome man to ever lay eyes on her was now lying on her. And if he stayed like this much longer, Colby could ask her to gun down a bad guy, and she’d pull the trigger without question.

  His harsh stubble grazed her chin, his forehead meeting hers. The air was hard to breath, and she sighed.

  This is too much like… Something more.

  And she didn’t want something more. She could go with this tonight, letting her fantasy run to its full potential. But more with him was unrealistic. More might very well kill her.

  It was dangerous, far more so than gunfights and secret lists. Men like him needed physical release, the clinging of a woman crying out his name. It was good for the ego, good for his game.

  “Are you okay, Mia?” His tenor raked a level lower than a rumble.

  And then he asked about her feelings? It was too much. She nodded his question away, discounting the weight in his voice, and the tightening in her chest.

  The room smelled warm and potent. Like the virile man enveloping her. She’d savor their encounter, but it wouldn’t last nearly as long as she needed it to.

  Their breaths and the hum of the air conditioning served up the white noise. A quiet intensity. The calm after the storm. Heck, the calm after the hurricane.

  Colby picked his head up and locked eyes with hers. Their fire, the deep brooding that burned in his irises, ignited a heated tremor in her all over again. Shivers ran across her skin. He leaned down to kiss her. Hard and deliberate. The harsh scruff on his face, and the supple slide of his delving tongue made her want to sign up for another round.

  “Good. Me, too.” He broke from her but lay close on his side. An arm hung round her waist, hooking their bodies together, maintaining their link. A soothing finger toyed with her belly button, rounding in and out of the shallow indentation.

  He loomed like an ominous mountain chain next to her, and she couldn’t help but admire the compact definition of his shoulders and the corded grooves between each ripple of muscles. Solid everywhere, even while relaxed. He was a warrior’s warrior. It made her mouth water.

  Colby rolled off the bed. An icy earthquake wicked across her skin. He lumbered toward the bathroom, stretching his arms high overhead, making every muscle from his neck to his ass flex. Her lungs hurt, and only then did she realize she forgot to breathe.

  His body was of a caliber that action movie heroes aspired to attain. He leaned over the bathroom sink, twisted the faucet on, and covered his face. After a second splash of water, he let it run, steam rising, framing his profile. Hinged at the waist, folded arms resting on the bathroom counter, he hung his head lax in the flickering bathroom light.

  Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good stance.

  That seemed a whole lot like regret. And she wouldn’t handle his remorse well. He’d gone hot and cold on her before. She didn’t expect it then, and she didn’t now. What was that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  She stared at the ceiling again. Maybe he realized he was stuck with her until Virginia. The one night stand that he couldn’t leave. Whoopsie. Sorry about your luck, Rambo.

  “Why are you here with me, Mia?” His head still hung over the running water.

  She’d called it, and here it came. He would push her away, his repentance bubbling to the surface like a hot spring. It was so dang cliché. She kept a laugh to herself and pressed her lips flat.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the clingy type.” She didn’t want to play the bedroom equivalent of Twenty Questions.

  “Christ, Mia. That’s not what I meant.” He tilted his head toward her, raking his eyes across her face. He looked mad, or was that annoyance?

  “Well then, Colby, what did you mean?” Sarcasm wasn’t her friend right now, but the snarky shake of her head said otherwise. “That type of question. Your timing. It’s clear to me. No need to backpedal.”

  “I meant why haven’t you called the cops? Why are you okay with everything that’s happened so far? Asking why you’re here wasn’t supposed to be an inquisition until you made it one.”

  The heck with his interrogation retreat. He knew the answer. There was one reason he was so sure she’d go with him, forcefully or not, in the first place.

  “I told you. It was my client’s dying request.”

  “No, bullshit. That’s not an acceptable excuse, and you know it.”

  “All right. Several people are trying to kill me. Bullets whizzed over my head earlier. I don’t want to be stuffed in a trunk again. Is that acceptable?”

  “Nope.” His eyes danced, an eyebrow raised. He needed to back off. He was already ruining her post-coital moment.

  “So what do you want me to say?” She rolled her eyes. Why was he pushing her? “You’ll do a better job protecting me than the cops could, and, I don’t have to explain how I came across a secret government document.” Besides, I’m too busy thinking of you naked. “Does that work for you?”

  All her climatic residuals were gone, and she blamed the undressed detective running shop from the bathroom.

  “You’ve got serious walls built around you, doll. You know that?”

  Oh yeah, she knew. Years studying psychology had clued her in. But all the money spent on higher education didn’t matter. She’d known since grade school that parents screwed up kids, and that a bad home life was a serious detriment for normal emotional health.

  Walls were a concession for never finding a magical cure. But that was okay. She’d done just fine with her closely guarded psyche.

  Well, that was the truth until Colby kissed through all her barriers. She needed to build those up again. Fast.

  “I’m a realist. A pragmatist. You’re a one-night-stand man. I can tell. And I got carried away with the moment.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong, and you don’t even know it. It’s simple: You’re the deceptive one.” He hung his head back down, facing into the sink. “You look one way. You act another. You say one thing, but I see the wheels turning in that clever head of yours. What you say isn’t what you think. Hell, honey. I know the deceptive deal. But that’s cool if that’s how you want to play it.”

  “I’m not even going to dignify your accusations.”

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” His half-smile made her stomach rocket into her throat. The man dripped testosterone. It was the freakin’ grand rapid of pheromones in this room. Mia flushed, remembering their bedroom showdown. Her palms itched to run down his strong back. Still carried away in the moment, it
seems.

  “I saw it in your eyes. You’re just as triggered up as I am. You want the same thing I want. But you don’t know it.” He paused, studying her. “Nah. You know what you want. Don’t you? I admire that. It’s sexy as all hell.”

  No way, not-uh. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of calling her out. Her stomach might knot, her jaw might lock, but no way would she admit anything.

  She looked back at him. It had been so easy. He didn’t judge, only acted. She trusted him from the moment he carried her into the room, until the second he leaned over the bathroom sink. Then it all came to a screeching halt.

  Except, wait. Did he just call her sexy? Whatever. She must ignore him. Turn the tables. Something. Anything. Because he wasn’t throwing on his clothes. And him, naked, was dangerous. Lord, so very dangerous.

  “Now who’s psychoanalyzing who?” Why did she sound like that? Oh, no reason. Just because her body was betraying her. She needed it to stop reacting to him.

  “Do you ever give honest answers?” He laughed into the towel as he dried off his face, then nailed her with a stare. “When it comes to you, to Mia, not your work or your clients, are you ever sincere about what you want?”

  She was earlier in bed. That was about the most honest she’d been. Ever. But she kept that little secret to herself and rolled onto her back. There was no denying that she felt something. But it didn’t matter. Adrenaline. Chemicals. Hormones. They were all arousing. And they were deceptive, not her.

  She could psychoanalyze this…their behavior, their glances, and the oppressing emotion that tugged at the edge of her consciousness, but she didn’t want to.

  He turned the shower on, and she expected he’d close the door on her any moment now. She earned a door slam. She was being a bitch. And there wasn’t a reason for it, other than to protect her hide.

  A shower would be amazing. Hell, right now, it would feel light-years past unbelievable. Steaming hot water would wash away her bitterness and confusion. But for now, she’d wait until her wet noodle legs could carry her to the bathroom.