Hot Rebel (17 page)

Even if you weren’t sure what his goals were.

“I’m glad too,” he said, and a little shudder rippled up her spine.

She heard him get up and cross the distance between them. Her entire body went on alert, hoping he’d touch her again. Just put a hand on her shoulder like he had before, or slide his arms around her body and tug her back against him so she could feel his strength and his warmth.

But he didn’t touch her, and disappointment rolled through her.

“Why don’t you go and get some sleep?”
 

His voice was a velvet rumble in her ear, and another shudder rippled over her. “I’m not tired.”

“Victoria, you have to sleep. We’ve been here since morning and you haven’t slept yet.”

“I’m fine.”

He made a sound that was a cross between a curse and a growl. And then his hands were on her shoulders and her body lit up like a flame as he turned her.

“You aren’t fine,” he said, his body a big blur in the darkness. “You’re operating on adrenaline and fear, even if you won’t admit to being scared of any damn thing, and you’re going to crash if you don’t get some rest.”

A strong urge to press her body against his swept through her. She trembled, unable to step away from him as she should. As she would have done only hours ago. Her resolve was crumbling, spurred on by exhaustion and that moment when he’d told her she was safe with him. What was it about that moment that had changed everything?

Until then, he’d been arrogant and cocky, and she’d been determined not to let him know how drawn to him she was in spite of how much he irritated her. But now her defenses were lowering, her determination cracking down the center.

His hands slipped down her arms and then fell away. She could feel the warmth coming from him, and the frustration.
 

“I’ll keep you safe, Victoria. Just go and lie down. If it works and you sleep, great. And if it doesn’t, you haven’t missed anything.”

“And who’ll keep you safe, Nick Brandon?” she whispered.

“You’ll get your turn to protect me, babe. Just not right now.”

She suddenly had to touch him, had to feel his mouth against hers one more time. He’d made her feel safe when he’d kissed her, and he’d chased every other thought from her head. She wanted that again. Wanted to concentrate on nothing but him, wanted the million thoughts and fears whirling through her head to disappear for a while.

She stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his head down for a kiss. He stiffened with surprise—and then he dragged her closer with a groan, his mouth slanting over hers hungrily.

She opened her mouth and his tongue met hers, sliding and stroking and setting up an answering throb of heat in her belly. And lower. Her pussy ached with the need to have him, and yet she feared him too. To take that step—that ultimate step—here and now had to be insane.

But an animal part of her wanted it. Because she’d gone for so long—her entire life—without knowing what it felt like to make love to a man. What if bin Yusuf killed her before she ever experienced it?

It was an insane thought, because she’d spent the past two years putting her life on the line, but she suddenly couldn’t stand the idea any longer. She had to
know
what it felt like, what made women lose their minds over a man.

Nick’s hands went to her back, squeezed her shirt in his fists as if he were trying not to touch the rest of her.

“Touch me. Please touch me,” she said between kisses.

He did touch her, but not the way she expected. He swept her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, his mouth still on hers. And then he broke the kiss and carried her into the bedroom while she clung to him. She put her mouth on his throat, tasted the salt of his skin. She could feel his pulse throbbing hard, and a surge of power went through her to know she could affect him this way.

He lowered her to the bed and she clung to him, wanting him to stretch out on top of her and dominate her. To take charge of the situation and give her everything she’d been missing out on.

But he wasn’t lying down. He was trying to disentangle her hands from his neck, gripping her wrists gently and pulling.

“Victoria, sweetheart, you have to sleep.”

Sleep? Her brain struggled to catch up, to penetrate the sensual fog surrounding her ability to reason. She’d finally decided she wanted a man—and he wanted her to sleep?

Oh God, she was clinging to him like some kind of octopus, arching her body into his and trying to get him to strip her naked and make her forget everything for a while.

And he didn’t want to. Didn’t want
her.
No matter what he’d said the past few days, no matter that he’d teased her and kissed her and told her he wanted her—

He didn’t.

It hurt, more than she’d thought it would. She let him go and curled on her side, turning her face into the pillow to hide the stupid tears threatening to break free.

He touched her shoulder and she jerked. He didn’t pull away, however. He slid his fingers down her spine, over her ass, and along her hip. Then he stopped touching her altogether.

“I want you, Victoria. Believe me, I do. But not like this. Not when you’re overtired and your defenses are down. Ask me again when you’ve slept a few hours.”

She kept her face turned into the pillow. He stood, and she heard him moving across the room. The door shut softly, and she was alone.
 

Alone and mortified.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Nick settled a blanket and pillow on the floor of the living room. He had his guns and his early warning system in Echo Squad, so he was going to take this chance and get some sleep too. He thought of Victoria lying alone, her body curled up tight, her face turned away from him, and his gut clenched hard. He’d wanted her so bad.

Wanted to strip her naked and fill her with his cock while she moaned and begged him for release. He could still feel her body pressed against his, her tongue caressing his so desperately, and his dick grew harder than it already was.

He had half a mind to do something about it, but a hard-on had never killed him before and it wasn’t going to now.

Except, fuck, he wanted to be inside her. Thrusting again and again, her legs wrapped around him, her tongue in his mouth. He wanted to feel her sweat and tremble, and he wanted to hear her fall apart as she came.

Damn, he had it bad. He was used to wanting, but he was also used to getting what he wanted. And he wasn’t sure, after he’d turned her down just now, that she’d ever want him again. Screw him and his sense of nobility anyway.

But he couldn’t take advantage of her emotional turmoil. He knew she was upset about her sister, keyed up about Zaran bin Yusuf and Ian Black, and worried about what the future might bring. She’d wanted escape, not him.

Perversely enough, he wanted her to want
him
.

Yeah, he could be naked with her right now, but it wasn’t right. He lay on his back and put his hands behind his head. The room was dark, but the city lights filtered inside, flickering on the ceiling when cars rolled by on the streets below.
 

He wanted to know what the fucking target was. And then he wanted to get back to Black’s HQ and get inside that server room. He imagined the server was portable, probably a hardened shipping crate on wheels, with the equipment tucked inside and maneuverable. There was quite possibly some sort of destructive device attached. A thermite grenade would do the trick, but it would destroy far more than the server. Would Black take that kind of chance? Or was he certain he could control access?

There was no way of knowing until Nick got back there. Assuming this wasn’t a suicide mission and the Freedom Force wasn’t bearing down on them even now. He picked up his phone and checked it. Nothing from HOT, no warnings or directions.
 

He put it down and lay there, his body throbbing for what seemed a long time. Eventually he must have slept, because he was jolted awake by a noise. He lay very still, listening for whatever had woken him. A glance at the door told him no one had broken in. The only windows were along the front of the apartment, where he currently lay, and none were shattered. They were on a high enough floor that someone would have to rappel down the building to get to them, but there was no evidence of that either.

The noise came again, and he realized it had to be Victoria. He thought maybe she was talking to someone, so he got up, slipped his phone in his pocket, grabbed a gun just in case, and crept toward the bedroom where she was supposed to be sleeping. He stood outside the door, listening.
 

She cried out and he pushed the door open, his heart kicking up. She wasn’t on the phone. She lay in bed, the covers thrown off, whimpering.

He went over and touched her shoulder. “Victoria.”

She cried out, and then her eyes snapped open, clashing with his. She scrambled upright on the bed before flipping and reaching for the table.

Holy fuck.

Nick dropped to the floor, knowing instinctively that she was going for her gun. He was armed, but that wasn’t going to help the situation when he was pretty sure she was just reacting to him surprising her.
 

“Victoria, it’s me. It’s Nick Brandon.”

“Nick?”

His heart thumped as he lifted his head. She stood on the other side of the bed. He could see the gleam of the pistol as she lowered her hand to her side.

“Yeah, it’s me. Promise not to shoot?”

He heard the clatter of the weapon on the table and he got to his feet.
 

She was standing there with her hands on either side of her head. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened… I was dreaming, and then you were there and I thought he’d found me…”

His pulse was racing like a frigging Formula One car as he tucked his gun into his waistband. “It’s okay. I guess I should have woke you up another way.”
 

She laughed softly, brokenly. “How could you predict I’d forget where I was or who I was with?”

The emotion in her voice made him want to reach for her, hold her tight, but he didn’t move. “Couldn’t have been easy to wake up from a nightmare and see a dark shape standing over you.”

“No, definitely not.” She chafed her arms as if she was cold. “What time is it?”

He pulled his phone from his rear pocket. “Three o’clock.”

“Is that all? It seems later.” She made a soft noise. “I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

“Night terrors will do that.”

“I don’t usually dream like that. It was… very realistic.”

“You were taken to a remote location and almost killed. It’s natural to feel some delayed stress.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’d thought I was over it already.”

He snorted. “Not likely. And that’s fucking normal, so don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ll probably dream about it some more before you’re done.”

She studied him. “You seem to know a lot about it. What’s your story?”

The curved scar on his torso seemed to throb for just a moment. It had happened so long ago now that he never really thought of it much—but he’d thought of it a lot at the time.

“I was mugged when I was seventeen. Visiting Chicago on a school trip and stayed out late, in spite of being told not to by our chaperones. I was walking the streets past curfew with a couple of friends when some guys stepped out of the shadows and demanded our money. I resisted when I probably shouldn’t have, and I got knifed for the trouble.”

“The scar on your side?”

“Yep.” He wasn’t surprised she’d noticed it. “It wasn’t life threatening, but it sure hurt like a motherfucker at the time. Not to mention the trip to the hospital got us busted for sneaking out, and my parents were pissed as shit that I’d embarrassed them that way. The preacher’s kids were supposed to be models of good behavior and upright moral standing.”

He could still remember the looks on his parents’ faces when he’d got home. His mother had worn that combination worried/disappointed look he knew so well. His father, however, was royally pissed. And he definitely believed in not sparing the rod. Hadn’t mattered that Nick was seventeen and too big to get beat. His dad had been so angry he’d hit him again and again across the butt and back with a belt while Nick stood there and took it, his insides churning with fury and hurt.

That’s when he’d vowed to get the fuck out just as soon as he could. The minute he turned eighteen, he’d gone down to the recruiter’s office and signed up. He’d had to sign up for the Delayed Enlistment Program since he’d still been a senior in high school, but as soon as school ended, he was on his way.

His parents had been furious about that too.
 

“That must have made it even tougher for you.”

“Didn’t make it easy.”
 

Shelly was gone by then, and he’d been the only one left. He’d already been angry with his parents over their continued refusal to accept Shelly unless she changed to suit them, and the knifing hadn’t exactly made them confident in
his
ability to do the right thing. He could still remember how shocked he’d been that his father was more furious that Nick had disobeyed a rule than the fact he’d been hurt and could have died if the attacker had jabbed him a little differently.