Stealth Ops Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  And, hell, he took it.

  His mouth came down over hers. Soft at first. Slowly kissing her. Nipping her bottom lip.

  But when she pushed her tongue into his mouth and threaded her fingers through his hair, he groaned against her lips, and the blood rushed south.

  His hands slid down to the curve of her ass as she continued to dance, her body moving in perfect time with the beat—driving him damn wild.

  Her ass was as tight as he’d imagined, and he couldn’t wait to touch the rest of her.

  “My room,” she cried against his mouth.

  She held his hand while they broke into a sprint to head back to the hotel.

  Was she drunk?

  Shit, was he drunk?

  “Hurry,” she begged, as he worked her key into the card reader once they were outside her room.

  She looped her arms around his hips and pressed her mouth close to his ear as she fumbled with his belt buckle. “You’re killing my focus.”

  “Come on, you can be stealthier than that.”

  He almost laughed as he finally got the door open.

  She maneuvered around him in one quick moment, and he allowed the door to shut behind them.

  She faced him with a smile and began walking backward toward the sliding doors, slowly removing her clothes.

  Heels.

  Top.

  Pants.

  He’d groaned during her striptease when she’d kept her lip between her teeth and her eyes pinned to his. He’d remained locked in position in front of the door, unable to do anything other than watch the stunning woman as she’d undressed, and his length had throbbed against the confines of his jeans.

  Now, he braced a palm on the wall and kicked off his shoes, noting the swell of her full breasts in the nude-colored bra.

  She turned, unsnapped her bra, and tossed it over her shoulder before opening the glass doors.

  With her back to him, he spotted a second tattoo on her right shoulder blade: rosary beads. He was going to commit all kinds of sins with this woman tonight.

  She slowly faced him. “I want to feel the breeze on my skin while we fuc—”

  “Sam,” he nearly growled her name as their eyes met, which had her dropping her words.

  She flicked her finger in a come-hither motion. “Well, you going to come and get me, or what?”

  Chapter Four

  She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. The sharp throb in her temples was too much.

  After forcing her eyes open, she clutched the sheet to her chest and rolled to her side. “What the hell?” A glass of tomato juice with two red pills at her bedside table had her sitting upright.

  It was then that she noticed the sound of running water from the en-suite. “No.” She rushed her free hand over her mouth and gasped.

  Did I . . .? She scrambled to remember the night, but the last thing that came to mind was dancing with Owen.

  She lifted the sheet and confirmed her nakedness.

  “Uh, hello?” It hurt too much to talk. To think.

  She was in hangover hell.

  And then it dawned on her.

  Her fade-to-black night was a result of the emergency prescription of Valium she used to calm her nerves while flying. Ironically, she’d managed to skip it on the flight, but when she’d arrived at the hotel and bumped into Owen, she’d freaked out and popped one in her room before heading down to the bar.

  But, oh God.

  Would he forgive her when he discovered she’d kept her identity from him last night? How would he react when she showed him the photo from the envelope?

  The photo. God, it’s why I’m here, and now . . .

  She tried to capture her memories, but it was like trying to snatch puffs of smoke in the air—everything after their bar chat slipped through her fingers.

  Jason’s brother. No. She pressed her closed hands to her eyes.

  The water stopped a moment later, and the sound of steps had her heart in her throat.

  “You’re awake. How’d you sleep?”

  His voice. Had it been this sexy last night? Low and deep?

  No wonder she’d lost her senses and slept with him. Tequila and a hot guy were never a good mix.

  Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t remember.

  She forced her eyes on him, finding him standing with a towel wrapped around his hips as he rubbed another smaller one against his hair to dry his longish blond locks.

  She vaguely remembered his hair being closely cropped when they’d met ten years ago. Last night, she was pretty sure it had nearly brushed the collar of his shirt.

  He’d packed on more muscles, too. Where he’d been leaner in the past, his V-shaped physique, hard chest, and six-pack were like heaven in a bottle now.

  Why him? Anyone but him.

  She was there for answers, for help. Not for a one-night stand with the brother of Brad’s best friend. No. No. No!

  She hadn’t talked yet, and now, he was approaching her with a beautiful smirk on his face.

  “That’s a Bloody Mary.” He tipped his chin toward the bedside table. “Drink it with the two ibuprofens; it should help with the hangover I’m sure you’ve got.”

  “That was my old remedy during my party days.” The party days she had to hide from her overbearing parents, as well as from the rest of the watchful eye of D.C. politicians and the press.

  She reached for the Bloody Mary but kept one arm over her chest to hold the sheet in place.

  He cocked his head and observed her with a smile in his eyes. His face was more angular than square, but his jaw was definitely chiseled. Strength just poured from every fiber of the man, even from his mouth.

  “I hope you don’t mind me taking a shower here,” he said. “I didn’t want to be one of those guys to leave you waking in bed alone, especially if you didn’t feel good.”

  And, of course, he had to be a nice guy. But would he still be charming after he discovered who she was? “Thanks.”

  She took a sip of the drink and forced her eyes back onto his. A swirl of colors danced within his irises, making for an incredible and unique shade, a shade she could get lost in.

  This wasn’t like her. Drunken one-night stands had happened. Sure. But lusting after the guy the next morning? Nope. She was normally the one to disappear before sun-up.

  Owen York. How can this be happening? At thirty-two, she was an accomplished and sophisticated woman, but right now, she felt like she was fourteen, in braces, with her awkward, long legs that didn’t match the rest of her body yet.

  “You okay?” He sat next to her, which had her scooting over, still hanging on to the sheet in a desperate attempt to reclaim the sense of modesty a McCarthy was supposed to have. Of course, she’d never been the poster child for the McCarthy “brand” as her mother liked to call it, especially after she’d broken down after Brad’s death.

  She lowered her brows in thought, observing his hazel eyes. How could she have ever forgotten that color?

  A memory of their brief conversation ten years ago at the funeral found its way into her mind.

  I’ll have someone check in on you. Look after you. I promise, Owen had said, and his stunning eyes had appeared haunted at the time.

  “Um. The thing is, I don’t remember sleeping with you.” Her forehead creased, the pain in her skull intensifying.

  Owen pressed a palm to his cheek and eyed her with a dash of amusement in his eyes. “I was worried about that.” His nose wrinkled a little. “So, uh, we didn’t end up having sex.”

  “But I’m naked, and you’re naked. Well, beneath that towel, anyway.”

  “I realized how drunk you were at the last second, and somehow, I managed to come to my senses, even though I was fairly shit-faced, too.”

  She pointed at his naked chest. His oh, so gorgeous naked chest. “That doesn’t explain the nudity.”

  “Well, I was still drunk, and so we kind of passed out next to each other before we had a chance to get
dressed.”

  A major sigh of relief fell from her lips. “Thank you.” She shook her head. “Not every guy would’ve done the same.”

  “I’m not gonna lie. I really wanted to. I mean, turning you down while you were naked and begging me . . .”

  Her eyes widened to the point of pain. “What? I begged?”

  He chuckled and held his index finger and thumb close to his face to showcase an inch. “A little, yeah.”

  She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but at least she’d forgotten about the pain in her skull. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we’d hooked up, and you hadn’t been in the right state of mind at the time.” He stood. “I mean, the first time we’re together, I want you to remember every detail.”

  The first time? But she didn’t have it in her to tell him there could never be any time.

  She needed to tell him the truth, but it didn’t feel like the time or place.

  “I called down to the desk, and they said I could get a sailboat for the day. There was a cancelation, and so I was wondering if you’d like to sail with me?”

  “Oh.” She could tell him there, couldn’t she? “Yeah, okay. What time?”

  “Will an hour be enough time to get ready?”

  “I’m not a girl who takes that long.” She smiled. “But the hangover cure might.”

  He grinned. “Sounds good. Meet you in the lobby at eleven.” He grabbed his strewn clothes off the floor and went to change in the bathroom.

  She fell back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. When her best friend heard about this, she’d have a field day over it.

  A flash from the night before popped into her head, and a memory of the kiss on the dance floor tore through her mind at lightning speed.

  Her fingers brushed over her mouth, and her thighs squeezed.

  Owen was one hell of a kisser. Maybe even the king of it.

  “Well, I’ll let you get situated,” he said, once back in the room in his jeans and tee.

  She sat back up and focused on his denim, and one of the questions from the previous night came to mind. “Boxers or briefs?” She arched a brow.

  “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

  “Is your new boyfriend at your place right now?” Sam asked her best friend, Emily, over FaceTime on her phone.

  “No, Blane went to grab us coffee. You have the all clear to talk.”

  She propped her phone up against the tissue box on the vanity then rushed out, “Owen and I slept naked in bed together last night.” She took a step back, twisting her lips to the side as she waited for her friend to comprehend her words.

  Emily pulled the phone closer to her face, her brown eyes widening. “What do you mean by you slept in bed naked together?”

  “Naked but no sex. I don’t remember most of the night, though.”

  Emily’s brows lifted. “Are you sure you believe nothing happened then?”

  “Trust me, I’d know. I’d probably be sore if we had. It’s been forever since anything other than my vibrator has gone near me. Hell, I’m probably collecting dust.”

  “And that’s your fault.” She pointed a finger at the screen. “Well, how much do you remember?”

  “Almost everything before I began heavily drinking, but I definitely came across as a stranger, which will—”

  “Piss him off when he discovers the truth.” Emily shook her head. “Surprised he didn’t recognize you.”

  “I’m not. It’s been ten years, and he could barely look at me at the funeral. He spoke to me for all of thirty seconds and then was out of sight.” She tensed. “I should’ve told him who I am last night. I never meant for things to go down like they did. I didn’t expect he’d be so . . .”

  “‘So’ what?”

  “Funny. Sweet. Sexy.”

  “Shit, Sam. Why’d I tell you where to find him?”

  She thought back to Emily’s lecture before she’d booked the flight. “Yeah, well, this wasn’t on that long list you made of things that could go wrong.”

  “Well, I guess I should’ve considered this when trying to talk you off the ledge of jetting to Mexico to find him.”

  Sam tipped her head heavenward, trying to gather her thoughts. Ever since she opened the envelope on Wednesday, her mind had been spinning nonstop with possibilities as to why she was given the picture. “You’re normally such a stickler for protocol. Surprised you helped me.”

  “I may work for the AG, but look at your own job. If someone finds out . . .”

  “I know, I know. But how could I not track Owen down?” She pinched her cheeks, realizing she needed some color to distract from her partially bloodshot eyes.

  “You still have no idea if he can help you, or if he’ll even want you to help when he learns the truth.”

  The truth . . . The truth was such a messy thing.

  She slumped her shoulders as she grappled with her regrets over the night.

  “How are you going to reclaim his trust? He’s a military guy. I don’t see this ending well,” Emily said while Sam swiped rose blush on her cheekbones.

  “I can be persuasive.” She was her father’s daughter, after all. She’d managed to get nearly half of D.C. to agree to her proposal—still one man short, though.

  And maybe she shouldn’t have been in Mexico when she needed to be on a plane to Russia Tuesday, but her father promised her he’d handle Senator Abrams, and so . . . she needed to handle this situation.

  Of course, if her dad knew where she was right now, and more importantly why she was there, he’d have a heart attack.

  She grabbed the phone and left the en-suite and went out on the terrace off the bedroom. She stared at the cabanas dotting the white sand; the waves slowly rolled in and receded. “We’re going sailing today. I’m going to talk to Owen on the boat.”

  “What are you wearing?” Emily cocked her head. “Hold the phone out.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “You need to look hot, or he might just toss your ass overboard when he learns the truth.”

  “Funny.” She huffed but lifted her pink halter to show a black eyelet bikini top.

  She nodded. “Sexy enough.”

  “Glad you approve. Anyway, I gotta go, or I’ll be late. Say hi to Blane.” She waved goodbye and ended the call before her best friend could give her any more grief.

  She grabbed her belongings and then headed to the lobby, her nerves twisting as she played in her head what she’d say to him and how she’d lay the truth out between them.

  I can do this, she thought when she caught sight of him talking to some guy who was maybe two inches taller than Owen’s already tall frame.

  Owen looked casually sexy in a white tee, navy blue swim trunks, and wide-strapped flip-flops. It was obvious he still kept up his SEAL exercise routine to some extent based on the rippled tone of his flesh.

  She inwardly groaned at her thoughts. She needed to focus.

  But when Owen pivoted, catching her gaze, his eyes narrowed, and his lips became tight. There was something there, something between them entirely too strong she wasn’t sure how she’d ignore. She’d have to find a way, though.

  “Who’s this beauty?” Owen’s friend asked when noticing her.

  “Sam.” She smiled and shook the guy’s hand.

  “I’m Asher.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Owen asked, and Asher dropped his hold of her palm.

  “Nah, man. Maybe we’ll meet up in San Lucas tonight, though?” He slapped him on the shoulder. “You two have fun.” Asher winked at Sam then walked off.

  “He’s a bit—”

  “Of a pain in the ass.”

  “I was going to go with intimidating looking.”

  “Nah, he’s a teddy bear; just don’t tell him I said that.” He reached for her bag like a gentleman.

  The sweet gesture made her feel even worse. How could she tell
him: I knew your brother? “I’m excited about the boat.”

  “Good. How’s the headache?”

  She touched her temple and shrugged. “Already forgot about it. Thank you.”

  He nodded. “So, you ready to go?”

  As ready as I’ll ever be. She slipped on her sunglasses once they were outside and nervously tucked her hands into her pockets as they walked away from the hotel and to the marina nearby.

  “Do you remember anything else from last night?” He tossed the strap of her beach bag over his shoulder without the least bit of shame at carrying a woman’s pink bag.

  “Nothing after the dance floor.” She didn’t feel like mentioning their first kiss had played on repeat for the last hour.

  “I think this is our ride,” he said once they were in front of a sailboat. “Sixty-five-footer.” The mast and two sails were fairly calm, only flapping a little in the gentle breeze. “Let me check with the captain.”

  The way he said captain rolled off his tongue like a form of respect. His words were firm and a little hard around the edges.

  Military, she reminded herself. She’d been around generals and other distinguished servicemen in her line of work, but she’d never again dated anyone who’d donned the uniform. She couldn’t bring herself to do it after having lost Brad.

  She turned and observed the hotel behind them. The desert served as a backdrop to the resort that was tucked into craggy cliffs along the Baja Peninsula, nestled by the Sea of Cortez and the coastline of the Pacific.

  Why haven’t I been here before? Most places she’d visited in the last five years had been war-torn areas related to her work.

  “You ready?” At the sound of his voice, she faced him. He’d dropped her bag on the boat deck and was holding his hand out for her.

  Once on board, his palms landed on her hips, and she lifted her chin. Her lips parted, and she was thankful they were both masking their eyes with glasses.

  She’d prefer to hide her emotions for as long as possible.

  “Are you folks ready?” The captain was American and probably in his late fifties. He tipped his hat in greeting and then started toward the dock, probably to untie the boat.