Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (24 page)

“Why are you still dressed?” she muttered.

Okay then. He wanted to point out that her glaring daggers at him wasn’t likely to get him hot, but the bitch of it was, it
did
get him hot. His cock stiffened and strained, and his heart was suddenly beating a little bit faster.

“You don’t want this,” he heard himself say. “You’re upset, and I can tell the stress is finally getting to you.”

Those green eyes flashed. “You’re right. I’m stressed out.” She blew out a breath. “So
un
stress me, damn it.”

She advanced on him like a panther, graceful yet deadly. His gaze took in the tantalizing swell of her bare hips, her honeyed skin and X-rated curves, the sultry look in her eyes. He nearly fell off the bed when she climbed into his lap, straddling him with her firm thighs. She bunched up the collar of his shirt with her fist and tilted her head downward, her long chestnut hair cascading into her cleavage. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

“No.”

She practically choked him as her fist tightened over his shirt. “What do you mean, no?”

He leveled her with a steely look. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you, because we both know I do.” To emphasize that, he lifted his hips so she could feel his throbbing erection. “But I’m not the equivalent of one of those stupid de-stress squeeze toys. I won’t fuck you to help you forget about your problems.”

He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth—since when did he turn down
sex
, for Christ’s sake? And yeah, the notion that she was simply using him to get her mind off Angelo
was
a tad annoying, but he knew it wasn’t the real reason for his holding back.

Truth was, he didn’t want her to regret this.

He wanted her so damn bad he was close to exploding, but the determination in her eyes made it clear that this wasn’t about sex for her. It was about amnesia, about forgetting her shit for a while via a few orgasms. From the way she’d second-guessed everything last night, he suspected she wasn’t all that free-spirited when it came to sex either. She treated it with caution, with her ground rules and doubts and careful analysis. Right now, however, she was too upset to be cautious, and he didn’t want her doing this only to end up with a case of
I-shouldn’t-have-done-that
.

“You’re actually going to turn me down?” She looked incredulous. “What happened to this only ending with you buried inside me?”

His erection twitched eagerly.

Traitor
, Luke thought.

He ignored the big guy’s plea for attention and said, “That’ll still happen, darlin’, but only when it’s done for the right reasons.”

She shook her head, falling into amazed silence. Then she let out a throaty laugh, completely unfazed by his rejection. “Sorry,
darlin
’, but it’s happening now.”

Luke’s jaw fell open as she gave his chest a firm shove and got him on his back. Un-fucking-real. The
one
time he tried to be a gentleman, and what happened? A gorgeous brunette decided to sexually assault him.

God help him, but he couldn’t find the will to stop her. He thought he heard himself utter a feeble protest, but then Olivia kissed him and he lost all capability of speech. Well, not true. He could still make sounds—that was totally him groaning when she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Her body was supple and warm on top of his, her lips even warmer as she kissed him with such fervor that he could barely draw a breath.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she murmured before going to work on the buttons of his shirt.

Spineless jerk that he was, he helped her out, propping up to rid himself of the clothing obstructing their goal. The goal being
naked
. It didn’t take long for that to happen either. As lust turned his brain into mush, Olivia succeeded in getting his pants off, along with his boxer-briefs, socks, and boots.

“That’s better,” she announced.

He felt like a damn Thanksgiving feast, sprawled there on the bed while she ate him up with her smoldering gaze. He could tell she liked everything she saw, especially when her fingers circled his erection and she let out a soft sigh.

“This really isn’t fair,” he choked out. “I was trying to be a gentleman, and you’ve ruined everything.”

“Tell me to stop. I dare you.”

Another groan lodged in his throat as she moved her hand up and down his shaft, exerting pressure on his tip with each upstroke. His lips formed the word
stop
, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make his vocal cords cooperate. Even if he could have, his cock betrayed him, weeping under her touch, a drop of pearly moisture forming at the tip.

“That’s what I thought,” she mocked.

Goddamn it, this woman was going to kill him.

Laughing, she bent down and took him in her mouth, and yep, he died and went to heaven. The sweet suction of her mouth had his head lolling to the side, made his breathing go ragged, and his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. She licked him as if he were a decadent treat she was desperate to savor, alternating the featherlight strokes of her tongue with the firm pump of her fist.

Oh Jesus.

He was close to coming. Balls tight, cock throbbing, every muscle coiled like a rattlesnake. It took some serious superhuman strength to yank her mouth off him, but even then it wasn’t enough because Olivia just chuckled again and continued to torture him. She brought him back to her lips and sucked him deep, her teeth nipping on the sensitive underside of his cock. She flicked her tongue over the engorged head, swirled and sucked and teased him into oblivion, until the entire world tilted and his body decided to quit fighting the rising climax.

He let out a hoarse cry, his hips jerking as his release boiled over. White-hot ecstasy slammed into him, seizing every muscle in his body, searing his blood and shorting out his nerve endings. Hot jets spurted into Olivia’s wicked mouth and she swallowed every last drop, digging the fingernails of her free hand into his thigh as he shuddered in pleasure bordering on agony.

When she released him, he was still harder than stone. No recovery time needed—just the overwhelming desperation to get inside her, which only intensified when she raised her head and swiped her tongue over her glossy lips.

A wave of pure lust plowed into him. Screw it. Screw the gentlemanly approach. Didn’t suit him anyway.

“Feel better?” Olivia’s voice held a mocking note.

With a growl, he flipped her over and covered her body with his. She yelped in surprise, then let out an erotic moan as his mouth latched onto one breast.

Everything after that was a blur. He might have blacked out for a bit. He devoured her body, working her breasts with his hands, sucking on her nipples until she scissored her legs and made tortured sounds deep in her throat. She was sheer perfection—her satiny skin, enticing curves, mouthwatering breasts. He didn’t leave an inch of skin unkissed, untasted, untouched, and yet it still wasn’t enough.

Groaning, he slid down her body and buried his face between her legs. Nearly passed out when his tongue tasted her liquid sweetness. As his pulse drummed in his ears, he spread her legs farther apart and feasted on her. He didn’t ease into it, didn’t start off slow. He licked and sucked, slid two fingers where his erection ached to be, and gave her an orgasm that made her entire body convulse.

“Feel better?” he taunted afterward.

Her breasts heaved as she fought for air. “This . . . is kind of fun.”

A laugh jammed in his throat. “Sex usually is.”

“Not really.” She shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

“Huh. Because I’m pretty sure you just gave me the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

A broad smile filled her face. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

Lord, that innocent temptress combo she had going on was a huge turn-on. He climbed up her delectable body, thrust his fingers into her hair and kissed her, drowning in the addictive taste of her lips. Soon they were both groaning again, their legs tangled together, his erection pulsating against her belly.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

With a nod, he flung an arm in the direction of the nightstand and fished a condom out of his wallet. He tore the packet with his teeth, rolled on the latex, and searched her face. “It’s not too late for me to be a gentleman again,” he said huskily.

Licking her lips, she rolled her hips and rubbed herself against him like a restless cat. “Yes, it is. And don’t bother with slow and gentle—we need this too much.”

The moment he entered her, he realized she was right. The need was too great, the demand for release making it impossible to take it slow. He plunged into her, stunned by how tight she was, how wet, how eager. She met him thrust for thrust, clawing at his back as she urged him to go faster, deeper. His pulse shrieked in his ears, drowning out everything except for the sound of Olivia’s moans. Another orgasm began to build, tightening his balls and gathering in his groin. He drove into her, reaching beneath her to cup her ass and lift her into him, deepening each desperate thrust.

Luke sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, helpless to stop the climax that ripped through him. Pleasure rocketed through him, hot, raw, pulsing in his veins and fragmenting his mind. And she was right there with him, unraveling beneath him, riding out her own pleasure.

Eventually they both went slack, their breathing becoming steady, heartbeats regulating.

Christ. The force of their joining shocked him to the core. There was sex, and then there was
this
.

Swallowing hard, he rolled them over so that he was on his back, Olivia curled up next to him. And then he sighed. “A part of me still thinks this might have been rape.”

Her breath hitched. “What? No. I was totally into—”

“My rape,” he cut in miserably. “You’re the perp.”

Her laughter was muffled. “I refuse to apologize. We both know you enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah, but for the record, I was trying to be a nice guy. You were too upset to be thinking clearly.”

“I’m not upset anymore.”

Damned if that didn’t send a streak of triumph through him.

She nestled her head against his chest, and he held her, absently stroking her bare shoulder with one finger. “Can I ask you something?” she murmured.

“Ask away.”

“Where do you live? The bit about having just moved here was a lie, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Our compound is just west of Tijuana. I used to have a place in New Orleans, but I sold it after Katrina.”

“So you live with your team now?”

“Some of the team. Holden and his wife have a place in Montana, and Trevor lives in Aspen. Sullivan crashes with us every now and then, but he prefers his boat. The rest of us stay on the compound. Not much to do, but the town has a couple of decent bars and I’m always around friends.”

“What about your family?”

His throat clogged. “They stayed in Louisiana. Mom’s got a new place in the suburbs, and my sisters both live near the French Quarter.”

“Do you go back to visit?”

“Haven’t been back since Katrina.”

“Since you lost your dad,” she said softly.

“I went to the funeral.”

He sounded oddly defensive to his own ears. She must have picked up on it because she raised herself up on her elbow and met his eyes. Her dark hair slid onto his chest, tickling his pecs. “It must have been tough for you. Were you close with your dad?”

“Damn close.” He swallowed. “He was career navy, and the reason I enlisted.”

She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “How did he die?”

“How else? Being a hero.” His lips twisted in pain. “The entire city was in chaos after the hurricane. Dad and I hauled our old speedboat out of the garage and joined in the search for survivors. My mom and sisters were safe, bunking with a friend in Baton Rouge, but Dad refused to join them.” He trailed off, his ribs aching thanks to the hammering of his heart.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, Olivia gazed up at him with sympathetic eyes. “So what happened?”

Luke let out a heavy breath. “We were in the boat, saw an SOS written on a tablecloth, hanging off a roof that looked ready to collapse. A single mom and her two kids were trapped up there, and there was no way to get to them except to swim into the house. Dad and me, we were both former SEALs, so the swimming was no problem. And the family, they were brave as hell. We got all three of them out of the house and into the boat, and then . . .”

He felt the hot sting of tears and swiped at his eyes with his fist. “Their fucking dog was still in the house. We heard it whining—it must have been hiding on the second floor somewhere—and my dad decided he had to go back for the mutt. He said those two kids had already lost enough and he’d be damned if they lost their dog too. So he ordered me to stay in the boat with the family. He went back into the house alone. And the damn thing collapsed.”

Olivia gasped. “Oh my God. Luke . . . I’m sorry.”

He slowly unclenched his fingers. “I tried to get to him but I couldn’t. There was no way in, no chance he survived the house caving in on him.” His chest ached with agony. “They pulled his body out a few days later. He’d been knocked out by a beam. Drowned. The dog was floating beside him—he’d managed to get the mutt, at least.”

The silence that fell was deafening. The guilt pounding into him was worse. He hadn’t talked about that day with anyone, not even his family. He’d banished the memories because it was the only way to control the guilt, but now everything poured out like the floods that had ravaged his hometown.

“I should have been the one to get that dog,” he burst out angrily. “But the old man wouldn’t let me. Fuck, I should have tried harder to make sure he stayed in the boat.”

Olivia scrambled onto his lap, shoved her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “You and your father saved that family,” she said firmly. “And your dad asked you to stay in the boat because he didn’t want you risking your life. You were his son, and he wanted to keep you safe. I doubt anything you could have said would have stopped him from trying to save that dog.”