Hot as Hell (7 page)

nightie.”His expression tightened and his nostrils flared. She sensed he was fighting a battle—his fierce

need versus her need for rest. He blew out a shuddering breath, then took off his T-shirt with its U.S.

Marine logo, pulled it over her head, and helped her pull her arms through the arm holes. “There,

that’s better.”

Struck speechless, Dawn trembled as he smoothed the shirt over her body. The look in his

silver-grey eyes was both tender and sexual. His citrus-musk scent had grown stronger as the air

around them heated. He dropped his hands from her body and shifted his gaze to the floor, breaking

the intense attraction which threatened to consume them both.

This man had control, and that was very sexy indeed.

Sam bent and picked up Ren’s shirt. “I’ll make sure the boss gets this back.” He leaned in and

placed a light kiss on her parted lips. Picking her up, he placed her back on the stool and held a piece

of cheese to her lips. “Eat.”

Dawn ate—and drank the wine from the glass he held to her lips and then from which he took

a sip. For the next few minutes, Sam fed her and shared the wine. All the stress that had served to

keep her awake melted away in the cozy cocoon Sam had woven around the two of them. Even the

sounds of the ice maker coming on, the hum of the air conditioning, and the distant call of birds from

outside the house dimmed as Sam cared for her needs over his.

For only the second time in her life, Dawn was struck dumb by a man… by his actions and

words. The first time had been in a Belizean jungle when she’d met Sam. She’d wandered around

the night-time jungle, avoiding O’Riley’s security people and worrying about snakes and predatory

animals, and not sure she’d find the mysterious Crocker in time to help DJ and Tweeter. And then

suddenly Sam had appeared in front of her, sliding out of the undergrowth like a jungle cat. He’d been

as impressive then as now, an air of competence and command about him that both impressed and

ticked her off. He’d been the ace in the hole the SSI team had needed to win the day.

Sam wasn’t a Nancy-boy like most of the men she’d dated. In truth, men—all types—had

always been easy for her to handle. She’d grown up with four brothers, was used to the military men

who guarded the embassies she’d lived in, and had competed with males in her educational and

professional life. But Sam was different than all of those males. He was an outlier of the male species—

or, at least, he was for her.

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Sam’s eyes heated until she swore she saw flames in

their deep grey depths.

“That did it.” His rumbled words shot a frisson of awareness down her spine right before he

pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a heated kiss. Unlike the earlier kiss in the hallway, this

one went from zero to the speed of sound instantly. He’d loosened the reins on his desire.

Sam groaned into her mouth and the vibrations traveled throughout her body, sparking every

nerve-ending into a higher level of excitation. He stroked her body with calloused fingertips and then

slid his large hands under her clothing and grabbed one naked arse-cheek in each hand and squeezed

gently. She moaned and he swallowed the sound—took her breath and then gave her his.

He muttered as he ate at her lips. “Sweet… so… fucking… sweet. I just wanna eat you up.” He

thrust his tongue into her mouth, engaging hers in a battle for ultimate pleasure. It was a war where

neither side lost.

Mewling deep in her throat, she opened wider to his avid, seeking mouth even as she melted

against his large, warm body. Rubbing her aching breasts over his tanned, cut chest, she felt the

roughness of his dark chest hair through the thin layers of her clothing. Her nipples pebbled and

begged to be touched—no, suckled—by this man’s marvelously talented lips and tongue.

When Sam moved one of his hands to the aching apex of her thighs, a warning siren in her head

wailed.
Red Alert! Mission. Tomorrow. Early departure.

Bloody buggering hell. She wanted this man—had never wanted another man as much as she

wanted Sam right now, right this minute, on the floor, on the counter, or against the bleeding wall.

But the timing sucked.

Mentally whining, Dawn placed her hands on his all-too-inviting chest and gently shoved.

Breaking off the kiss, she mumbled against his lips, “Can’t do this now.”

Sam moved away just enough to look at her. A concerned frown creased his forehead and

turned down his luscious lips swollen from their kissing.

She lifted a hand and traced his mouth with the tip of one finger. “So sorry. I want to… really,

really want to… but…”

Nodding, he blew out a breath. “Sorry. All my fault. Wrong time. Wrong place. When you licked

your lips, I… sorry.”

When he pulled even farther away, she smoothed her hands over his shoulders—such broad,

strong shoulders—halting him. She wasn’t ready to lose his touch, his heat. “Not your fault. Not even

the wrong place. If we didn’t have to leave so early tomorrow morning, we’d be upstairs, in bed, with

me taking you inside me right now.”

“Fuck yeah.” Sam pulled her lower body against his and held her there with one hand on her

arse. With the other, he caressed her back with long, slow strokes. So soothing, but exciting at the

same time. “So… I wasn’t moving too fast for you?”

“No. I want you…” She inhaled his clean male musk and the light citrus aftershave he used.

Moving closer to his chest, she nuzzled the base of his throat and then lightly licked the pulse beating

there. “…very much.”

Holding her more tightly against him, he inhaled, a harsh sound, almost a groan, and then

muttered, “Sweet Jesus… don’t tempt me, little cat. I want you badly. I want to make love to you until

my scent and touch are imprinted on you.”

Love, he called it making love—not fucking as most men would. Whether his choice of wording

was conscious or not, it still struck an emotional chord.

Dawn was elated. Deep in her gut, the same instincts that had kept her alive in dangerous

situations over the years and had warned her away from all the wrong types of men told her Sam was

“it” for her. So, him describing the sex act as making love was good; it meant he was invested in her

more than merely physically.

She rubbed her cheek over his chest, loving how the hair tickled her skin and added to her

awareness of him.

“I’d love that. Unfortunately,” she yawned so widely her jaw cracked, “I need to finish eating

and catch some sleep. If we made love, I know neither one of us would get a wink of sleep.”

Brushing a kiss over her hair, Sam smiled. “Yeah. Rain check?”

“Definitely.” Stealing a few more seconds of closeness, she rested her head on his chest,

breathed him in, and listened to the steady, strong beat of his heart. “Just so you know… I’ve been

wildly attracted to you ever since I first saw you in the jungle. I want to investigate whatever this is

between us.” She angled her head until she could see his eyes. “Do you want that, too?”

His grey eyes darkened to molten pewter. “Yeah.”

“Good, that’s good.” She patted his chest. “While I finish eating—and we share another glass of

wine—you can tell me all about Sam Crocker, former Marine.”

Her Marine.

“Not much to tell.” He picked her up by the waist and placed her on the stool, then pulled his

stool closer so his knees aligned along the outside of hers. “I was born in—”

While sipping the wine Sam shared with her and eating the crackers and cheese snacks he fed

her, she listened to his life story related in his whiskey-smooth baritone. His voice lulled her into a state

of drowsiness. She was barely aware of him carrying her to bed and was sure she was dreaming when

she was gathered against a hard, warm surface that emitted a slow, rhythmic, soothing
thud, thud,

thud
. When she awoke the next morning, his scent and the remnants of his warmth were imprinted

next to her in her bed. She let out a joyous laugh and hugged herself. He’d chastely guarded her the

whole night, proving he was a man of honor and had tremendous strength of will. Attributes she’d

never consciously looked for in a man, but now realized had been missing in all her previous male

acquaintances.

It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in years.

Chapter 7

11 a.m., March 3rd, Palm Plaza Resort and Casino, Aruba

Sam slid onto a bar stool next to Conn. He caught the eye of the bartender and pointed at

Conn’s almost empty bottle of beer and signaled two more. The bartender grinned and nodded.

Conn turned to face him and frowned. “What the fuck you doin’ here?”

“Buying you a beer?” Sam took the dewy bottle of beer and slid the bartender a fifty. “Get me

a club sandwich, please, and you can keep the change.”

The bartender smiled, “Yes, sir.”

Sam waited until the bartender was out of earshot. “According to Ren and Keely, MacLean’s

just arrived at his estate, so no worries about him catching sight of me for the moment. I’m taking over

Dawn-duty for a few hours so you can catch a battle nap before your guard duty this evening.”

Conn took a long swallow from the fresh bottle of beer. “I’m not a fucking toddler and don’t

need a nap. However, I do need to find something to wear. The casino requires a sports coat. I hate

fucking sports coats. It’s too fucking hot to wear a jacket.”

“Hey, look at it this way—” Sam scanned the pool area, looking for Dawn. “You can wear your

shoulder holster, a much easier draw than a back or calf rig.”

“There is that.” Conn took another sip of beer. “She’s in the cabana straight across from the bar.

Our girl does not like direct sun.”

“
My
girl.” Sam’s narrowed gaze zeroed in on the shelter. Dawn lounged in the shadows,

wearing—“What the—that’s not a bathing suit. It’s just strips of cloth.”

Brilliant turquoise-colored fabric criss-crossed her petite curves and covered the essentials and

very little else. The bright color set off her porcelain skin and dark hair, drawing all eyes to her, an

exotic bloom among common daisies. She was all too desirable—and he wanted to poke the eyes out

of every man staring at her.

“You should see the back view.
Your
”—Conn had gotten Sam’s not-so-subtle message—“woman

must exercise the hell out of her glutes.”

Conn chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made Sam want to throat-punch him. “She’s been hit

on a lot since she claimed that spot about two hours ago.”

“Hit on? And you let it happen?” Sam grabbed Conn’s arm and pulled his friend around to face

him. “You’re supposed to protect her.”

Conn shrugged Sam’s hand off. “Dawn’s job is getting noticed so fucking Benrabi hears about

the beautiful Lady Wilson holding court by the pool. So get over the territorial shit and get with the

program.” Conn blew out a harsh breath. “Besides, Dawn has proven she is the queen of letting men

down easy while still stroking their egos. Check out this guy.” He angled his head at a man, a drink in

his hand, currently approaching Dawn’s cabana. “Turn on your receiver and listen. She’s a pro. Don’t

fuck this up by underestimating her.”

“I’m not going to fuck up the mission.” Sam used his smart watch and turned on his ear bud,

which had been pre-set to the mission channel. SSI had the best toys.

“Of course you won’t fuck up the mission. I meant don’t fuck up your budding relationship,

asshat.” Conn slapped him on the back. “I’ve never seen you this way over a woman before. She could

be the one to put an end to your bachelor days.”

Sam grunted. “Could be. Do me a favor and keep your eyes and thoughts off her ass.” Conn had

been a connoisseur of women’s asses since the two men went through boot camp together.

He adjusted the volume for his ear bud through the RF connection on his watch so he could

hear Dawn’s conversation with the drink-bearing fucker.

“A drink? For me?” There was a little chirrup to Dawn’s voice. She sounded like a perky

cheerleader on steroids. He might’ve been the only southern Georgia teenage boy who didn’t like

cheerleaders. “What a lovely offer. But I’m sorry, I don’t accept drinks from men I don’t know.”

Damn right she doesn’t
. And if he ever caught her doing so, he’d swat that sweet ass.

“Please, my lady. My employer will be most displeased.” The button mike in Dawn’s nipple ring

clearly picked up the man’s words—so clearly that Sam could hear the drink pimp’s fear.

Employer?
He shot a curious glance at Conn and muttered, “What employer?”

His friend frowned and shook his head.

Dawn turned her gaze toward Sam and Conn just long enough for Sam to realize she had her

ear bud switched on and had heard his question. Then she pointedly looked toward a cabana at the

corner of the pool, two away from hers.

Shit.
He recognized one of the men lurking in the shadows of the cabana—Benrabi. The sheikh

sat there and acted as though he owned everything around him including Dawn.

Mine. You fucking perverted asshole
.

Dawn then inclined her head toward Benrabi in a regal manner that had to have been learned

over a lifetime of dealing with nobility as an earl’s daughter.