Wild Card (36 page)

send her hurtling into release.

"Yeah, baby. Scream my name. Noah's fucking you. Taking you." He pulled back. "Who does

this sweet hot pussy belong to?"

He impaled her, pressed hard and fast inside her, and she screamed his name again.

"Damn right. Noah. Noah's fucking you."

Sabella opened her eyes, staring up at him in dazed need, watching his expression contort, his

eyes burn brighter, darker. Then he was pushing inside her hard and fast again, and he didn't

stop.

The sound of flesh slapping, deep wet penetration, and her own screams filled her ears. Each

slamming thrust ground him against her clit, threw her higher, harder, until she was crying out,

beginning, and then exploding into such rapturous, perfect pleasure that she could feel herself

becoming lost within the sensations ripping through her.

She heard him. He cried out her name, his ruined voice agonized as two more thrusts buried

him deeper, harder, and then he was jerking inside her, against her, filling her with the heated

hard pulses of his release.

He filled the interior of the truck with the scent of sex and satisfaction. His scent. Her scent.

They mingled, marked them, marked the seats and the vehicle and marked her soul.

When he collapsed over her, his arms wrapping around her, folding her in his powerful hold.

Sabella had to fight to hold back her tears, her need for explanations.

She had her husband's body, held all the dark passion she had only glimpsed in him before, but

she didn't have his trust.

It was a hard blow, the realization that he didn't trust her, that he trusted his brother, but not

her.

Her arms tightened around him and a single tear slid from her eye before she could battle the

rest back.

For whatever reason, he was here now. Here, and hungry for her. He was still hard inside her,

moving slow and easy against her, filling her ears with his ragged breaths and his gentleness.

"One more time." He nipped at her ear, then kissed her neck, and his hips moved, pulling his

erection, still thick and hard, back, until only the crown was poised inside her, before pushing

inside her again.

Slow and easy. He took her slow and easy. His lips whispered over hers, sipped at them. His

tongue tasted them and slid against hers like rough velvet.

And his gaze held hers. Fierce, So bright. Agonized and filled with emotions she was certain he

didn't know he was showing.

His jaw was locked tight. He wasn't speaking now. He was forcing the words back. Forcing

back that guttural vow he had always given her in Gaelic. The promise he had always made

with his heart and with his body.

"Don't stop," she whispered, lifting her hand to his rough cheek, holding him to her, relishing the feel of his body sliding against hers. "Never, Noah. Never stop."

Their breathing was rough in the steamy heat of the truck cab. Their flesh slipped and slid

against each other, against the leather seats. He groaned and his pace increased. His jaw

tightened.

"Never stop," she cried out as she felt the ribbons of pleasure snapping inside her again, jerking her against him as she cried out his name. "Oh God, Noah. Never stop."

Noah pumped inside her, his release spurting with agonized pleasure inside her as he felt the

final assault to his senses easing.

She had always done this to him. Always made him insane to take her, as many times as he

could take her. But now, that need was like a steady flame inside him. Having her enough

would never happen.

He pulled her into his arms as they fought for breath, his body curled around hers on the

makeshift bed of the truck cab, the leather wet beneath them.

He let his hands stroke over her, ease her. Her back was to his chest, his hips spooned against

her, and he should have been uncomfortable. He wasn't. He was holding her, brushing her hair

back from her face before kissing her brow gently.

"Okay?" he whispered as he felt her breathing finally steady.

Her little laugh was thready, almost tearful.

"Does alive count?" Her voice was hushed, as soft as his. As though to speak any louder would

somehow damage the intimacy enfolding them.

"I definitely want you alive." He smiled at her, his fingers stroking down her bare arm as her

head lay on the pillow of his other arm.

She was relaxed, soft against him. Like a lazy little cat. All that was missing was the purr.

"This is nice," she murmured, turning to stare up at him, flowing against him like silk. "You're very hard-core, aren't you, Noah?"

He granted at that. "You call that hard-core? Baby, that was just a little snack. Playtime."

He grinned as her eyes widened in playful surprise.

"I might not survive it if you get serious then." Her lips pursed at the thought. "Maybe I should double up on my vitamins?"

He nipped the tip of her nose, almost laughing at her expression as he stroked his fingers along

her hip.

"Very bad girl," he warned her. "You could end up getting spanked."

"But I like getting spanked." She looked up at him from the corners of her eyes. "You're all threat, I—" She broke off.

God! She pushed her fingers roughly through her hair. She had almost called him "Irish."

Almost let her knowledge of who he was slip past her lips.

"You what?" Noah grinned, pulling back.

Her expression seemed to even out, a rueful smile pulling at her lips. "I think you're all talk."

His eyes narrowed. "I could say different."

"Tonight?" She laughed, a low, lazy sound. "Let's go home first. The bed is more comfortable."

Home. He paused as he stared down at her.

"Home, huh?"

Her gaze flickered as though some uncomfortable thought had suddenly invaded her mind. A

reminder that it wasn't his home maybe?

He was the other man. The man holding her, fucking her, while her heart belonged to the man

he had been. Fuck, he was going to have to stop this. He could finish the long, slow slide into

insanity if he continued to let himself be jealous of… himself.

"Back to the house." She finally shrugged. "Home is only where you want to be, I guess. If you prefer the bed at the apartment, then that's your choice."

She lifted away from him, gathered her clothes from the floor of the truck, and began dressing.

"I hurt you. I didn't mean to." He frowned at her back. Shit. He needed to get a handle on

himself.

"How long do you intend to stick around, Noah?"

The question surprised him. Noah narrowed his eyes at her, aware that she was deliberately

keeping her back to him.

"Do you want me to leave?"

An irritated little sniff sounded through the cab of the truck. Feminine. Filled with ire.

"Did I ask you to leave? Perhaps I'm just curious if you intend to stick around or if you have

other plans anytime soon." There was a tension in her voice that had his body tightening.

"Other plans, such as what?"

"Such as leaving." She shrugged. "You blew into town from nowhere. Took over my life and

my bed. Perhaps I'd just like to know if you're considering more than a few one-night stands?"

She wanted commitment. Sabella wasn't a easy lay, he had known that when he first met her.

Yet, here he was, knowing when this mission finished it would be time to leave.

"There are some things I have to leave to take care of soon," he finally warned her. He couldn't promise her anything yet, not yet. He couldn't promise her forever until he knew if signing his

life away to the Elite Ops meant signing everything away.

Sabella closed her eyes and fought the pain. Which was worse? she wondered. Losing him to a

supposed death, or having him walk away voluntarily?

The latter would hurt worse, but at least she wouldn't wonder. She would know he was safe.

Know he was alive.

But that didn't keep the anger from burning inside her like an inferno that only seemed to grow.

"I see."' She buttoned her blouse in hard, jerky movements before reaching for her panties and

skirt.

"What do you see?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"You're not future material, just a quick lay wherever you happen to be." She shrugged as

though it didn't matter.

Damn him. Damn him to hell. Fuck it. Screw it. She'd had enough of this. Enough, as of now.

She jerked her skirt on.

"Get dressed. I need to get home. I have things to do tomorrow and they don't include lying

around all day. I've wasted enough of my life as it is."

"What the hell does that mean?" His voice turned cold. Stony.

She turned back to him, watching as he levered up, glaring back at her with narrowed eyes.

"Exactly what I said. I've spent too many years grieving for a man who didn't love me enough

to keep his ass alive and come back home to me." She let her gaze flick disdainfully over him.

"I'll be damned if I'll waste so much as another day on a man who doesn't even care enough to

let me know if he intends to stick around for a while."

"Promises are for fools, Sabella," he rasped. "You should have learned that with your

husband."

"You're damned right. I should have." She threw his pants at him. "There are a lot of lessons I should have learned with my husband. Starting with the fact that he was a son a bitch who

obviously didn't know how to love anything but himself and his fucking job. Lesson learned. I

won't make that same mistake with you."

His shirt hit him in the face. "Get dressed. I'm fucked out and ready to sleep now. In my bed.

Alone."

"Like hell."

"Hell describes it," she muttered. "But it beats sleeping with a no-commitment asshole who doesn't mind a bit to fuck and run. Now, take me home."

Her eyes were dry. There were no tears. She watched as he dressed, and the bastard, he didn't

even struggle or COB-tort to do it. He watched her with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"I'll be sleeping in that bed with you," he promised her. I might be a no-commitment asshole,

and a luckless son of a bitch, but don't forget, while I'm here, you're mine."

She stared back at him. "Keep dreaming, Noah Blake. Because my bed is the last damned place

you belong."

Noah twirled the wrench between his fingers and chewed thoughtfully at his gum as he

watched Sabella two days later.

She hadn't been joking. She'd kicked him right out of her bed, and apparently, out of her life.

For now at least.

He watched her from beneath lowered lashes as he pretended to stare into the guts of the SUV

he was supposed to be working on.

"You're hard at work, huh?" Nik leaned against the fender and peered into the motor. "Need some help?"

"Sure," Noah murmured absently. "Any word?"

Word on the DNA samples they had slipped to the bunker and Jordan had shipped out for

testing. Delbert had picked up his pickup that morning. The sneering smug little turd. He'd

looked at Noah as though he had crawled out of the dumb pit when Noah had informed him

there was no way to juice up his motor.

Let him juice his own motor. By time the feds were finished taking that son of a bitch apart

searching for the evidence Noah had left, good ole Delbert was going to be too busy to be

worrying about juice.

"No word," Nik answered. "I could use some help this evening though, if you are not busy."

They both glanced at Sabella in the office then.

She was frowning over something Toby had said.

She hadn't braided her hair this morning. She hadn't worked on one of the cars this morning.

She'd worked in the office, done the filing, made Toby crazy as she butted in and did his job.

"I don't appear to be busy," he drawled, twirled the wrench and stared at the waves of dark hair framing Sabella's face as she turned her frown to the papers on the desk.

"How did you screw up?" Nik asked then.

The wrench paused then moved deliberately through his fingers.

"Who says I screwed up?"

His wife had said it. His wife, and she'd thrown him out of his truck. Even worse, she'd thrown

him out of their bed. Threatened to call the sheriff if he didn't leave. Son of a bitch, could

anybody be more tangled than he was right now?

She was right. He was slime. A bastard. A no-commitment son of a bitch who didn't deserve to

be anywhere close to her.

He threw the wrench in the toolbox at his side, hearing the clank and clatter as he jerked a

greasy rag from the fender and wiped his hands quickly.

"What kind of help do you need?"

Nik scratched his jaw and looked at where Noah had thrown the wrench.

"'I need to go see a friend," Nik stated, the code smooth, rueful.

A meeting had obviously been called at the bunker.

"Hell!" Noah plowed his fingers through his hair and grimaced.

He'd have to tag Rory, put him with Sabella. After the attempt on Toby, Noah was terrified to

leave her alone.

"Sorry, dude. You promised." Nik slapped him on the shoulder. "But you know, it's not like you can't have your cake and eat it too. She's a fine woman. She'd make any man an even finer

wife. I'd consider that if I were you. Walk away, and someone else will step in eventually. Is

that what you want?"

Noah felt his lip twitch as fury began to burn inside him. He shot the big Russian a hard look

and only got a cold smile in return.

Yeah. He'd promised. It had been his fucking hand that signed the papers, giving his soul to the

Elite Ops rather than returning to his wife. He'd been warned then, he could never return to his