The Soldier (Men Who Thrill Book 3) (4 page)

She kissed me harder this time, her lips pressing against mine, a feeling that I realized I was coming to enjoy quite a lot. She moved her mouth tentatively, questioningly, and I was more than happy to answer.

I took over the kiss, pressing my tongue against the seam of her lips until she opened and granted me entry. Then, as I swept my tongue into her mouth, I moved forward until she was flush against the door, her soft body trapped against the hardness of my own and the metal portal. I kissed her thoroughly, tracing every millimeter of her mouth with my tongue, trying to ignore the sweetness of her, ignore the sensation of her huffed-out breaths, ignore the press of her hardened nipples against my chest.

Instead, I focused on showing her that I was on to her game, that a sweet little kiss didn’t have the power to throw me off. But, as I’d suspected she would, she pushed back, thrust her tongue into my mouth, mimicking my movements, ran her small hands over my chest, telling me, without words that she wouldn’t yield in this fight.

That thought charged me. I loved battle, and Jordan was proving to be a worthy opponent.

Unwilling to let her response go unanswered, I deepened the kiss even further and moved my hands up, grazing the T-shirt as I moved up her waist and settled my hands on her breasts. I almost groaned when I realized they were unrestrained, but held the exclamation back, not wanting to give her any hint that she was affecting me.

But then again, if the raging hard-on that was resting against her stomach wasn’t a clue, I didn’t know what would be.

Still, I had a point to prove, and in furtherance of that objective—and not because of any desire that may or may not have existed on my part—I closed my hands around her breasts, containing as much of them as I could, testing their weight and their firm softness in my palms as I continued to kiss her.

I brushed the heels of my hands against her nipples, which were puckered into tight little buds, and felt a rush of victory when she puffed out a groan, one that I captured, my lips still sealed over hers. She squirmed under my touch, which only made me want to touch her more. So I did, kneading the heavy weight of her breasts with my hands.

Needing to feel her skin, I released her and lowered my hands, and as I skimmed down her front, I finally broke the kiss. But I didn’t let up, instead nibbling at her lips with hard, biting kisses. As I lifted her shirt past the waistband of her shorts, I was struck by a thought too powerful to ignore and changed course. Looking down at her, bent over to close the gap created by our height difference, I caught her gaze, watched her reaction as I hooked my fingers into her waistband.

She inhaled, her eyes bright as she stared into mine, and then she inhaled again when I brushed my fingers against her soft stomach and then again when I moved lower, curling my fingers in the hair that covered her sex. She was slick, her hair matted with evidence of her arousal, and as I moved my fingers lower, the delicate petals of her lips spread easily to accept my fingers into her damp heat.

At some point she’d curved her arms around my shoulders, and at the first glancing brush of my thumb against her clit, she flexed, the movement pushing me closer, her kiss-swollen lips grazing against mine. I repeated the motion and she jerked again, closing her small hands around my shoulder muscles, her grip tight, almost urgent.

I felt an urgency of my own, something I tried, and probably failed, to keep from her. I stroked her clit, smiling in satisfaction when she widened her legs to give me greater access. Thumb circling her tight nub, I moved my knuckle against her slit, and she rocked into me, increasing the pressure against her.

She moved her hands up, threading her fingers in the shorn hair at the back of my neck. Almost frantically, she rocked against me, her breath coming out in short huffs, her pussy growing wetter with each second that passed. She wanted more, but at least in this I was in control.

The urge to bury my fingers in that wet heat was almost overwhelming, but I held off, only stroked at her with enough force and speed to keep her on the edge but not enough to send her over. Finally, after several moments of increasingly frustrated movements, she went still, seeming to accept that I would decide when and if she reached the climax she was seeking.

“Jordan,” I whispered against her mouth.

Her eyes snapped up to me, and the mix of annoyance and desire in them was one of the most arousing things I’d ever seen. She loosened her grip on my neck, let her body go slack, and when she’d completely relaxed, I waited a moment, then another, and then began teasing her clit with renewed gusto.

She moaned out a sound that was a mix of pleasure and relief but cut off short when she saw what had to be the triumph on my face. But she couldn’t stop the tremors that racked her body or the flutter of her pussy walls, something I could feel even though I hadn’t entered her.

I continued, and her breaths came in increasingly erratic huffs, her eyes heavy-lidded. She squeezed my shoulders tight as she rode the wave of her climax, and, more than almost anything, I wanted to join her, replace my finger with my cock and feel those delicious contractions squeezing around me. But I held back, stroking her as she came down. When she looked up her, her pupils were dilated, eyes bright, shiny, and cloudy with pleasure.

I removed my hand, fingers coated with her essence, from her shorts and then stood up straight, fixing my face in my most stern expression, something that clearly surprised her and had the clouds of pleasure that had been in her eyes lifting.

“Where’s the access card, Jordan?”

Chapter Seven

The question chased away any pleasure that remained in her eyes, and she stood up straight, adjusting her clothing although she was fully covered. She swallowed once, then again before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s right here. Let me get it,” she said, voice throaty and rough, probably from her cries of pleasure.

Displaying remarkable poise, she walked across the small room into a set-off dining area that she appeared to be using as an office. The television flashed across the room, but I could tell that she’d been at her computer before I’d arrived. There was a large mug next to the mouse, along with a stack of papers. She didn’t even try to pretend that she wasn’t hiding them, quickly stacking a blank sheet across the desktop. As she reached for her briefcase, she bent forward, her position giving me a full view of her mostly bare thighs and ample backside.

I tried to keep focused on what she was doing, but the flash of skin, which I knew was as soft as it looked was distracting, so much so that I was relieved when she turned and walked back to me, card in her extended hand.

I took the plastic and then leveled her with a glare.

“Sorry. It won’t happen again,” she said quietly, almost meekly.

Her tone enraged me.

After I’d kissed her, touched her so intimately, how could she continue to pretend?

“Drop the act, Jordan.”

My words were harsh, as well they should have been. I was in no mood for games, I didn’t have the time or inclination for Jordan’s denials, and I was, unexpectedly, offended by her behavior.

“What game—”

“Enough!” I said firmly, voice low.

Eyes narrowed, she looked up at me and snapped her mouth closed when she saw what was my unquestionably stormy expression. When I was sure she wouldn’t speak more, I continued.

“Do you want to explain what’s so important that you’re willing to risk federal prison or worse to get to the fifth floor?”

“I told you, sir. It was a mistake.”

The words were mechanical, lacked the conviction and life that they’d had earlier, were just a token nod to the story she’d concocted. I could tell that she could tell she was caught. And in an instant I watched her transform. She slanted her eyes up at me, but this time they glittered with defiance.

“Who are you?” she asked.

This was a different voice, not the soft yet challenging faux acquiescence she used at Titan, nor the deep, throaty sound that had come out of her when I’d had her pressed against her front door. This was a new voice, could have been a different woman. Gone was any trace of meekness or softness or innocence, and it occurred to me that I much preferred this version of Jordan Casey.

“I’m the director of security for Titan Industries,” I said.

Then she chuckled softly, her mouth lifting in the ghost of a small. “Drop the act,” she said, mimicking my earlier statement.

“Is this another ploy to get me off your trail, or do you actually doubt my identity?”

“You’re not a total fucking moron, so you couldn’t possibly be in a position of power at Titan,” she said, tilting her head.

Unable to stop myself, I twisted my face into what passed for a smile.

“An honest answer, but you still haven’t responded to my question. What are you looking for?”

She glanced away and then looked back at me, her eyes alight.

“I’m investigating Prescott Tillman’s murder.”

Chapter Eight

My vision narrowed.

As far as anyone who wasn’t me, the General, two members of my team, and the man who’d killed him, Prescott Tillman had died of a heart attack. Even his widow and children believed that. I had worked very, very hard to make sure of it.

I kept my trained gaze on Jordan, knowing that she’d pick up on any hesitation, and as she assessed me, I assessed her. And again, I had little clue as to what she was thinking. Maybe she was grasping at straws. When a person of Tillman’s status died, there were always rumors, questions, and given his, and Titan’s prominence, that fact was doubly true.

But Jordan wasn’t speculating or chasing a wild hair. She was sure; her face told me enough to know that. And I needed to figure out how she knew.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

I thought my voice sounded tight, but if she noticed, she didn’t show it.

“You have to have a heart to have a heart attack, and if you’d ever met Prescott Tillman, you’d know that he didn’t have one of those.”

“So what if he didn’t? Why do you care?”

“It’s a puzzle. And as you can see I don’t have a lot to occupy my time.”

She kept her eyes on me as she spoke, and it was clear that she was sizing me up, trying to see if I believed her.

I didn’t.

“Bullshit,” I said.

She quirked a brow.

“I told you to drop the act, Jordan. You said it yourself, I’m not one of the morons you deal with at Titan. So don’t insult me any further.”

I stepped closer, my height and build dwarfing her, even with her own heavy frame, but she didn’t give an inch. Save inclining her head due to the differences in our height, there was nothing in her stance or in her expression that gave an indication that she was bothered, let alone intimidated by my closeness.

If anything she seemed to soften, and the memory of my lips against hers, my hands on her body came to me, and from the little spark that lit her eyes, her mind was in a similar place.

“Jordan,” I said, my voice almost a whisper, “you couldn’t give a shit if Tillman was murdered. None of you could. So what’s the reason? I won’t ask again.”

She stared up at me, still defiant, though the arousal still shone in her eyes.

I’d lost her.

Lips set in a firm line, she crossed her arms and looked away, her gaze centered somewhere that wasn’t on me. She wasn’t lying or pretending anymore, but she wouldn’t be answering my questions.

I had measures at my disposal that would get me the answers I wanted, but, though I knew they would be effective, I hesitated. Despite what the media said and putting aside questions of morality, I knew firsthand that the skilled and targeted infliction of pain yielded excellent results.

It wasn’t something I exactly enjoyed, but I recognized it as a necessary part of what I did, one of the sacrifices I, and the people under me, had to make to protect innocents.

People like Jordan.

Maybe that explained the wave of revulsion that overtook me at the very thought of her in pain, pain that I’d caused. She was up to something, that much was clear, but instinct, experience told me she was a fundamentally good person, the kind of person that I did the things I did
for
, not the kind that I did them
to
.

And, at least for today, that wouldn’t change.

Oh, I’d have my answers, but I’d be patient, wouldn’t resort to more unsavory means unless she left me no choice.

In the meantime…

“Whatever you’ve been doing, for whatever reason, it stops right now. Are we clear?”

She stubbornly kept her gaze averted.

“Are we clear?” I repeated, this time my voice threaded with iron.

She jumped slightly and looked at me, nodding shortly before looking away.

I left her apartment, certain that I would be revisiting this subject soon enough.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

After I left, I analyzed what had happened, trying to make sense of it.

Jordan seemed to be chastened, but then again, with her, things were rarely as they appeared. She had a reckless streak a mile wide and seemed pretty fearless, a bad combination, especially in a place like Titan.

And there was the fact that she’d kissed me, a complete stranger, a complete stranger that she was smart enough to know was dangerous, twice. And didn’t seem the least bit affected by it. Had done so solely to throw me off, and had succeeded. Well, only halfway succeeded that second time. I’d regained my equilibrium relatively quickly and, at least I thought so, turned the moment to my advantage, but there was no pretending that those first few seconds hadn’t surprised me.

And enraptured me.

But beyond the still-lingering questions about the conundrum that was the woman I’d just left, there was the question of my response. Just moments before she’d kissed me, I’d been thinking of how little she appealed to me physically. But her touch had proved that mind and body were at odds on that point.

I clinched my jaw shut hard. It made no sense. The others at HQ thought me rigid, a stick-in-the-mud, and to some degree that was true. I took the work, whatever mission I was tasked with, with the grave seriousness it deserved, but when I wasn’t working, I seldom denied myself life’s pleasures, including female company.