Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (124 page)

But she was okay. She was more than okay.

He didn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him like this. Maybe never. He put the tea they’d given him beside the bed. Smiled at the vision she made asleep. Like any old combat veteran she slept with her boots and hat on. He dropped down to the bed and rubbed his eyes.

She stirred.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

She blinked awake and pushed into a sitting position, pulled off her hat and dragged her mussed hair over one shoulder. She suddenly looked young. Not kickass and capable. Dark circles smudged tired eyes. The set of her chin looked uncertain for once, not ready to take on every adversary.

“There’s no working radio or satellite dish within twenty miles.” He sounded as disgusted as he felt.

“These people have next to nothing.”

He handed her his canteen of water and she took a drink. They were way beyond the social niceties.

“How they survive here is beyond me,” she said.

“I was going to ask
why
the hell do they stay here but having visited the rest of Afghanistan, this place has some advantages.”

“It used to.” Her dark eyes haunted him. “Maybe not so much anymore.”

He shrugged out of his backpack, which felt like it had been welded to his back. “The military only want Volkov. They won’t stay unless there’s a reason.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Her eyes drifted away from his.

“What?”

“Being sent on a mission to kill someone.”

“I wasn’t sent on a mission to kill anyone. I was sent to capture him.” He closed his mouth, pissed he’d admitted that much.

She smiled. Knew she’d got him. “Dead or alive though, right?”

He rubbed his hands over his eyes then rested his elbows on his knees. “Axelle, you’re a smart woman. You know there are times when we can’t all hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya.’” He decided to tell her the truth because he wanted her armed with real knowledge in case she had to face this bastard again—especially if he wasn’t there to help her. The thought tore at his guts. “Volkov went AWOL from the Red Army and joined the mujahedeen in late 1980. When that fight was over, he was still so full of bloodlust he sought out Islamic militants and taught them the basics of bomb-making, which they’re now using to terrorize governments and civilians around the globe. I don’t care what his reasons were. Perhaps he’s misunderstood, but I don’t give a rat’s arse. I spent my life protecting people and he’s spent his trying to destroy them. There is no redemption for a man like that, no matter the circumstances.”

She sat staring at him, her eyes wide with understanding rather than the horror of killing she’d expressed earlier. He’d said more than he should but after being kidnapped she was due some sort of explanation. Not that the bosses would see it that way.

“Are we staying here overnight or are we leaving?” Her eyes were still bleary, but she was clearly ready to go if they needed to. But, Christ, he was toast.

“Let’s get a few hours’ sleep, and we’ll slip out before dawn.” He wasn’t sure they’d find a safer spot than this anywhere close by. He felt exposed but there was only one of him—he couldn’t stay awake indefinitely.

He undid the laces on her boots and pulled off one, then the other. He rubbed her feet and she groaned, and he tried to ignore what the sound did to him deep in the pit of his belly. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got a few things to do before I get any rest.”

He checked each of his weapons and made sure they were clean and loaded and within arm’s reach. He went outside and did a quick perimeter check of the village, seeing what everyone was up to and if anything seemed out of place. He didn’t know if the people here were fooled by the cover story he’d given them—that he and his wife were on a hiking trip from her camp for their honeymoon. Hell, he didn’t even know whether they’d understood any of his words, but they’d eyeballed his weapons with a healthy dose of respect and Dempsey figured they recognized the gear of a professional soldier when they saw it.

Though he’d never told them he
wasn’t
a soldier. He’d just said he was Axelle’s husband—something he didn’t want to dwell on. Back in the hut he bent down and undid his boots. Slipped them off with his socks. Drank a sip of his lukewarm tea. Unstrapped his body armor and placed it on the floor beside his other stuff. Damn, he was tired. He figured he’d better keep his T-shirt and trousers on, else his reflex reaction to Axelle might scare the shit out of her if she woke and found him pressed against her like some horny git.

He turned back to the bed expecting her to be asleep. She wasn’t. She lay watching him with an expression that made his heart stand still for three hopeful beats.

“You ever been married before?” Her voice was soft and a little bit husky.

He cleared his throat. “No. The army doesn’t go well with marriage and I’ve never met anyone…” He stopped, disconcerted. “Is this difficult for you, pretending to be married to a man like me?” He’d known it might be but had ignored it. He needed to keep her safe, whatever the cost.

A sad smile curved her lips. “We were only actually married for a year and he was gone for half of that.” The pain was there though, beneath the surface.

He sat and didn’t break eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. There was nothing he could say that would make up for what she’d lost. Shit happened. People died every day. They died crossing the road, eating unwashed vegetables and sneaking off to the market to meet boyfriends they weren’t supposed to have.

He lay down and closed his eyes. He could feel her beside him. Her breath soft against his arm. Her knees brushing his as she curled toward him. Trusting him because of what they’d been through together.

Somehow—inconceivably—he’d bonded with this fiercely independent woman. They’d become partners in survival, and those feelings merged with desire in his head to create something mind-blowingly complex and yet utterly simple. Her hand crept down to meet his and their fingers entwined and locked.

“Dempsey.” Her voice was soft in his ear.

She was driving him crazy and she didn’t even know it. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“I haven’t thanked you, for everything you’ve done since we met.”

His heart banged like a teenage boy having his first wet dream. “I’m just doing my job.”

He felt her nod then he felt her hand on his stomach and his heart about stopped.

“It’s more than that.” Her hand rested lightly on his shirt.
She’s trying to get warm, idiot.
Then her hand traveled south and he didn’t have to second-guess her intentions any longer.

“Axelle…” He groaned as she touched him. He’d dreamed about her stroking him there, like that. He lay, afraid to move because he might already be asleep and this could be a hell of a dream, except dreams didn’t feel this hot, and dreams didn’t smell like an exotic mix of honey and silk. Her hand slipped to the waistband of his trousers, and she started undoing buckles and buttons.

Oh, fuck
. Put a gun in his hands, he was fine. Give him this woman and he was lost. Blood pumped. Flesh burned. He was too scared to move. He wanted her so badly, lust crawled over his skin and licked its way over his body in a wanton feast. Her fingers unsnapped his pants and suddenly she was touching him without any barriers, and his eyes flashed open. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her flat onto her back. He drilled his gaze into hers. “You don’t owe me this sort of thanks.”

“What if I want you?” She blinked away a sudden sparkle of moisture from her eyes. “What if, for the first time since my husband died, I actually want a man?” Her lips trembled as she fought with emotions.

He couldn’t stand to see the anguish in her gaze. He already knew what she’d lost. And he felt the echo of that loss because it was something he’d never have. He lowered his lips to hers, tracing the outline, memorizing the texture and taste.

Her lips parted on a sigh. “We don’t need promises or rings. Give me something good to remember.”

There was no way he could deny her. Who was he kidding? He didn’t want to try.

“I almost died today and can’t even remember what it feels like to have an orgasm.”

“Really?” His voice broke. So much for Mr. Macho. She was kissing him, those soft pink lips nibbling his skin, and he was remembering how amazing she’d looked naked through the scope of his rifle. How desperately he wanted to touch her skin. Giving her an orgasm would be his pleasure

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

He reached into one of his zippered pockets and pulled out a foil package. “They’re standard issue.” He would have explained the 101 uses of condoms but she took it from his fingers. She was going too fast and at the same time not fast enough. He wanted to be inside her, but he also wanted this to last more than five seconds.

She was about to rip it open when he stopped her. “Wait.” Hungry for the sight of her bare skin he started peeling off her shirt and pushed aside the material only to be confounded by another T-shirt.

“Good God, woman, how many layers are you wearing?” He pushed the shirt off her shoulders, then lifted the T-shirt over her head.

She sat in the lamplight in her plain black sports bra and baggy trousers. He watched the swell of her breasts rise and fall. Heard the catch in her throat as he touched her smooth skin with his calloused finger—so soft. Her nipples pressed against the cotton and he lowered his head to taste her.

The press of beaded nipple against his tongue had lust ripping through him. His hands molding her body, he pulled her closer, tasting every inch of skin he could find. She tugged at his shirt, trying to drag it over his back but he wasn’t helping, he was too busy unclipping the fastenings of her bra, his heart pounding like a machinegun.

This was a mistake.

He was letting down his guard at a time when he should be on high alert. And his brain felt like he’d been dipped in anesthetic because he was so tired.

But it might be the best mistake he’d ever made.

Somehow she wriggled out of her trousers and panties at the same time, and he swallowed as she sat naked in the middle of the bed. He ran his hands reverently over the dusky pink of her nipples, watched fascinated as they budded with his touch. Her lips parted, her eyes black with desire. Need scrambled along his veins. Somehow she’d managed to tug his T-shirt over his head where it got tangled and he threw it off. He clenched his fists. He should say no. This wasn’t a sensible time for her to be making these sorts of decisions, and having sex definitely wasn’t part of his orders.

But holy shit, how could he say no?

He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her and done his damnedest to keep his hands off her and stay professional. She’d made this decision. She liked to be in charge. Now it was his turn. He eased her down on the bed and crawled between long smooth legs. She cried out in surprise.

“I don’t think this is a real good”—he widened her thighs as he sank his mouth over her and nuzzled and licked until she bucked in his arms—“idea.”

She tasted sweet and salty. Her fingers clutched the blanket, and her skin was covered with a damp sheen of perspiration. His hands roamed higher and discovered her breasts, plucking and teasing her nipples until she writhed and twisted. Her long hair came loose of its braid and unraveled at the same moment she did. She came in a rush of high-pitched little groans, both of them mindful to keep the noise down.

But tasting her release made his own body strain to be inside her.

She lay panting for a moment and he admired the view, so aroused just by the sight of her he didn’t want to move. Not yet. She hooked him with her foot and flipped him onto his back. He laughed, so surprised he lay still for a whole second. Long enough for her to curl her fingers around him and rip open the condom package. Yeah, he was fighting it all right.

“I want the whole deal, Dempsey. Not a pity party. If this is my quota of sex for this decade, I want you deep inside me.”

A weird thrill shot through him as he prepared himself to be dominated, but he wanted this to last. He gripped her thighs as she straddled him, but it just sank her hot wet core closer against him and she rode the ridge of his erection for a few heart-stopping beats. Desire scorched his skin. Blood heated in his veins.

It somehow seemed
wrong,
like it should mean more than this—that
they
should mean more than a quick fuck in a dirt hut. But God help him, he couldn’t stop now. He gripped her hips as he slid slowly inside her. Her back arched, thrusting out those small perfect breasts, her head falling back so that her soft hair brushed his knees. The sensation was so incredible he did it again. And again. Framing her hips with his big hands to hold her exactly where he wanted her, even as she rode him at her own pace—sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always with that knowing glint in her eyes. He smiled grimly when she raised her hands over her head and twisted her hips and came with a satisfied groan.

He held on to his own release by a gossamer thread of control, giving her a long moment to enjoy her pleasure. Then it was his turn to flip her onto her back and hook her knee over his elbow and drive back into her slick velvet heat. She cried out, but not in pain. He gripped her hands as he thrust hilt-deep into the cradle of her thighs, so deep his balls ached.

“Is this what you want?” His voice was guttural. She’d destroyed him. Reduced him to an animal with only one thought in mind. Lust tore through him, and he wanted to take her hard and fast, slow and leisurely, as many different ways as she’d let him.

Her eyes were laughing as she met each thrust with one of her own. “I’d forgotten how good it could be, but”—she gasped on a thrust and he felt a quiver in his heart—“this is exactly what I want.”

They held the connection as they both slammed into one another, building to a climax that ripped his world apart. His vision went white and this time Axelle screamed so loud he started laughing and couldn’t stop even as the orgasm rolled through his body and into hers in endless, shuddering ecstasy. When it was over, he collapsed on top of her and she wrapped her legs and arms tight around him, as if savoring the moment. He eased onto his elbows and squeezed her tight, unrecognizable emotions bursting inside him. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to ever let go.