Hot as Hell (9 page)

and the Marseilles docks. Oh, by the way, those were nude beaches. I had no gun. No knife. No wire.

Unlike SSI, Interpol had no cool communication devices like these—” She flicked a finger at her earring

containing a powerful receiver.

“That was the true meaning of being naked.” Dawn twisted open a bottle of water and took a

healthy drink and then sighed. “That’s so good. It’s hot as hell outside.”

As she’d relayed a bit of her past, full-blown fear consumed Sam, turning his insides icy hot like

a ring in Dante’s hell. North African drug traffickers were some of the most vicious and Marseilles was

a cess pool of violence. Dawn could’ve died—and she talked about the experience as if it were just

another day in law enforcement… a walk in the fucking park.

Yeah, sure, logically, he could accept she was in law enforcement, which always entailed

the potential of danger, but she’d been working undercover as part of a fricking incident response

team, not a highly trained special operations team. He’d intersected with Interpol IRT teams while

undercover for the CIA. The incident response teams were mostly made up of desk-jockey analysts

and investigative support personnel more akin to crime scene investigators; their job was to assist the

local cops, not risk their lives.

While Dawn might’ve had more advanced training than most IRT members—and thank fuck for

that—Sam hadn’t been impressed at all with her team in Belize, led by the fucking idiot Lloyd. Dawn

had been deep undercover, shit had happened, and she’d received absolutely zero backup from her

team. Again, Sam mentally swore at the image of her working the nude beaches of South France for

drug connections and meeting with informants on the rough, seedy docks of Marseilles.

Get your head on straight, dumb ass. She’s alive to talk about it, which means she has the skills

and instincts to do the job.

If he kept telling himself those salient facts long enough, he might begin to believe them.

Sam took a deep breath and looked at her.

Her big green eyes held understanding, sympathy, as if she’d read his thoughts. “Sam, I made

it out. I’m good at what I do.”

Yeah, she read him well… too well.

Sam exhaled slowly and focused on shoving the past where it belonged—under old news. The

reality was—Interpol was out of the picture. Now Dawn had real backup. SSI employed highly trained

men and women who cared about their peers—and protected innocents in the path of danger—while

still managing to produce superior results.

But there was one thing he couldn’t get out of his head—“No more fucking nude beaches.”

Well, not unless he was with her… and the beach was one hundred percent private… and they were

the only two humans present.

Sam walked toward her. “No more bathing suits that invite men to do this.” He took hold of the

strips of fabric and ripped them away, leaving her naked but for her nipple rings and her low-heeled

sandals. He fisted his hands by his side; if he touched the nipple rings the way he wanted, he’d be

taking her on the counter.

“Sam?” Her voice was throaty, both sexy and a little wary. “Why are you so angry about the

nude beaches? You weren’t around back then. As for the suit, you and Conn were at the pool, nothing

bad could happen.”

That was for damn sure. As long as he had a breath in his body, he’d never let anything or

anyone hurt her if he could prevent it. And that included himself.

“Didn’t say my reaction was logical … it just is.” He swept a lock of hair off her shoulder with a

shaky hand—his hand never shook. He could be out-numbered and under fire by bad-ass tangos, and

he had nerves of steel. That was how he knew Dawn was the one; just the thought of her in danger or

hurt had him shaking like a green recruit.

He brushed a light kiss where the strap of her swimsuit had left a deep pink indentation on one

shoulder. “After I feed you and we revisit that kiss, I plan on making love to you before we take our nap.

You down with that?”

Dawn stared at him for several seconds, seconds that had him holding his breath as he waited

for her response.

“Why now?” She leaned in and placed a butterfly-soft kiss on the exposed skin in the opening

of his shirt. “After our conversation last night, I figured we’d wait until after the op.”

The light brush of her lips had him leaking precum and, if possible, getting even harder. He

fisted his hands on her bare, lower back and fought for more of his vaunted control. He was a second

or so away from lifting her and taking her where they stood. But their first time should be on a bed

where he could give her the several orgasms he’d planned before taking his.

“After watching you at the pool… seeing how other men coveted you… every instinct I possess

tells me to stake my claim.” He blew out a breath. “Neanderthal that I am, I want you going into danger,

knowing you belong to me … knowing that I’ll be there if you need me, because I protect what’s mine.”

“Luv, there’s very little risk,” she said, her voice gentle, filled with a soft emotion that made his

heart pound faster. She rubbed the side of her face against his shirt front much like the little cat he’d

named her. “But I very much want you to claim me. So, yes, after we eat, we’ll definitely be taking that

kiss and what follows into the bedroom.”

Thank the fucking hell, she wanted him. She’d called him “luv,” and the tone of her voice was

so sweet and affectionate, he knew she meant everything she’d said.

“Good,” he whispered against the side of her neck, then gave it a little lick. God, she tasted so

sweet and smelled like the coconuts and lime of whatever sunscreen she’d used with her unique musk

underlying it all. He forced himself to stop tasting her, or he’d eat her instead of the sandwich he’d

offered to share with her.

“Need to feed you… now.” Picking her up by the waist, he set her on a stool. She shivered.

Damn him, she was cold. He took off his shirt and put it on her. He focused on buttoning the

shirt and avoided staring at the rosy-brown nipples so sweetly budded and decorated with little gold

rings. They were practically begging for his mouth and teeth to pleasure them. His fingers shook and

he forced himself to swallow past the desire constricting his throat.

“Sam,” she glanced at his hands, a puzzled look in her eyes, “why cover me up? You just got me

naked.”“You’re cold.” He let out a frustrated sigh and admitted his weakness. “And so I won’t be

tempted to make a meal of you before you eat your sandwich.”

“Such a good provider.” She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest and then rubbed one

of his nipples with her thumb. His cock ached and jerked, demanding immediate relief.

God, please let me maintain control—at least, until I get her off once… or even better, twice

“What’s this?” Dawn’s exploration had traveled further down his torso. She lightly traced the

exit wound on his lower abdomen and looked up. Her green eyes glittered fiercely. “Someone shot you

in the back?” The words were uttered in a low, angry snarl. “When did it happen? Where? And please

tell me the fucker is dead?”

Her unrestrained reaction to his injury made him even hotter for her. She was just as furious on

his behalf as he’d been about her past mission risks. Strong women were so damn sexy.

Sam placed a half of the club sandwich in front of her and then moved to the refrigerator to get

her a juice. “Eat. And I’ll tell you the story of how I got the wound and first became involved with the

traitor MacLean and SSI.”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces of that story. But I do want to hear your side.” Dawn’s gaze was fully

fixed on him as she took little bites of the triple-decker sandwich.

Fuck, she was a cute little thing, so petite all over. Her mouth couldn’t even stretch far enough

to get around the thickness of the sandwich. Then his brain went straight into the gutter as he pictured

her on her knees with that same mouth stretching to take in his dick.

The sooner he told his story, the sooner he’d find out if she was amenable to making his fantasy

happen. But only after he took care of her first. Ladies always went first.

“I was in deep cover for the CIA’s National Clandestine Service. My job…”

****

“Well…” Dawn daintily wiped her hands and lips on the napkin Sam had unearthed from

somewhere in the kitchen. She frowned. “Do you really think you’ll have to fight Vanko? I mean…”

“Sweetheart,” Sam leaned in and licked the corner of her mouth, “you missed a crumb.”

“You’re deflecting.” She jabbed him in the chest with a surprisingly strong finger. “Fight. Vanko.

Really?”“It’s a guy thing.” He shrugged, a slight twist to his lips. “We’ll both feel as if honor has been

served after it’s over. Plus,
if
I give my notice to the CIA, I’d like to work for SSI. Clearing the air with

Petriv would become essential for a good working relationship with the other operatives. If Petriv and

Maddox accept me, so will the others.”

Her throat tightened at the thought that he’d even consider continuing to work for the black

ops portion of the CIA. She knew more than most about the dangers covert operatives were exposed

to. If this attraction between her and Sam proceeded the way she suspected, she didn’t want him

risking his life in third-world hell holes without her there to back him up.

So, task one after MacLean and Benrabi were taken down, she’d work on convincing Sam to

quit the Agency and join SSI. Her second task would then be to speak with Keely and Vanko’s wife Elana

about what the SSI women could do to stop any future fights between Sam and other SSI operatives

over a long-dead mission he’d undertaken in good faith and discharged honorably.

“Dawn, you
will
stay out of this.” Sam tweaked her chin. “I mean it. Let me and Petriv handle

it our way.” He took her mouth in a deep kiss, then released her just as she’d opened to engage his

tongue. “And I’ll give my notice to the CIA once MacLean is either dead or in the DIA’s custody.”

“Do you read minds?” She sniffed, suddenly wary at how easily he read her. It was scary to

think she might not be able to keep her thoughts from him. A girl had a right to keep some things

secret. Not that she’d purposely hide anything important, but still—

“Just yours,” he husked in a loving tone that gave her goosebumps. “Just as you easily read

mine. You want anything else to eat?”

“No. I didn’t even eat all that.” She looked ruefully at the half sandwich of which she normally

would’ve made into three meals.

“Good.” He scooped her off the stool and carried her to the suite’s master bedroom.

She twined her arms around his neck and enjoyed being held against his warm, bare chest.

The bed was turned down invitingly, a couple of wrapped pieces of candy lying on the pristine

white pillows—which was odd. It hadn’t been that way when she’d left the suite.

“Did you turn the bed down?” She rested her head on Sam’s tanned, bare shoulder. He smelled

so good.“Nope.” He looked at the bed, his brow creased. “It wasn’t like that before?”

“No.” She bit her lower lip. “I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. No maid should’ve

entered.”

Sam set her down. Placing a hand on her back, he nudged her toward the main room. “Go next

door to Conn’s suite. Use the connecting door, it’s unlocked. He might be napping. Call to him from the

doorway.” He tipped up her face so their gazes met. “Don’t, under any circumstances, get too close.

He’s deadly when he’s coming awake from a battle nap. Understand?”

“Yes.” She nodded and wondered if she’d have to worry about him.

In tune with her as always, he kissed her lightly. “It’ll be different with us, sweetheart. I know

your scent, feel you under my skin. You’ll never be in any danger from me. Understood?”

“Yes.” She understood—he was her mate. They belonged to one another. Why had it happened?

She didn’t bleeding know. But one thing she did know—he was sending her away from perceived

danger.Like hell. She dug her heels into the carpet and refused to budge when he gave her another

light push toward the main room.

Her lips firmed. “I’m not leaving you.”

While most people would find simple reasons for the turned-down bed, neither one of them

thought it was innocuous. Their shared conclusion said something about their shared perception of

the world in which they lived. Yeah, they were meant for one another, would be good partners as long

as her man learned that she needed to be by his side, danger or not.

“Sweetheart—” Her macho-man heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m not investigating until you

move back—as in the next suite back.”

She didn’t move, just stubbornly planted her feet still in her jeweled sandals and crossed her

arms over her chest covered only in Sam’s shirt.

“Jesus—” Sam shook his head as he tapped his smart watch to activate the SSI communication

system. “Ren? Someone’s been in Dawn’s bedroom. Can you check the hotel security feed for the

hallway outside her room? Whoever was here had to have entered after she left the room this morning

at—” He turned to her and frowned since she still hadn’t moved.

Dawn held his gaze as she tapped her watch and activated her com unit. “Ren, I left the suite

at 9:30. Sam and I returned here shortly after noon.” She then glared at her soon-to-be lover. “I’m not