Navy SEALs Complete Series: 3 Books + 3 Novellas (Tempting Navy SEALs) (102 page)

He didn’t give her a chance to protest further. Gripping her arm tighter he pulled her back into his bedroom, only releasing her when the door closed behind them so he could turn back to secure it.

As he turned back to her, her lips opened to argue, to blast him for the high-handed decisions he was making. Before the sound could emerge he had his hand over her lips and his head next to hers.

“Listen to me.” His voice was a furious hiss at her ear. “Seven days ago a nineteen-year-old child was murdered in front of my eyes because she was deemed a threat to me. A bullet right through her fucking head, Kira.” Agonized fury echoed in the lowered tone. “Do you want him to die? Do you want to die?”

His fingers curled in her hair, pulling her head back, his gaze blazing into hers as she stared back at him in bitter awareness of what his life had become.

“Don’t make me force you to disappear.” One hand framed her jaw as his expression twisted in grief. “God, please, Kira, don’t make me do that.”

His lips covered hers before she could speak. His hand tightened on her jaw, holding her in place as his lips forced hers open, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as his lips slanted over hers.

Moving his hand from her jaw, his arm wrapped around her hips and jerked her to him, notching his cloth-covered erection into the vee of her thighs as her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers spearing into his damp hair.

The hell he lived in tormented her. The blood he couldn’t
escape filled her nightmares as did the knowledge that it was his father that had forced him into it.

“Don’t think,” he bit out, tearing her robe from her shoulders, pushing it from her arms and cupping the tight, swollen mounds of her breasts. “Don’t think. Don’t protest, Kira. Just let me have you. Right here. Right now.”

How could she do anything less? Her head tipped back, a cry spilling from her lips as his lips descended to a tight peak and drew it into his mouth.

Instant wet heat spiked around the bunched nerve endings of her nipple. His teeth scraped over them, lighting fires that flashed to her womb, clenching it and spilling the silken wetness of her response from her vagina. And she could do nothing but hold on to him. His touch, the feel of his lips on her breast, one arm holding her close, his fingers pulling at her hair, holding her head back. And between her thighs she could feel his cock throbbing beneath the thin cotton slacks, ready, engorged.

“Ian, this is crazy.” Crazy because she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think in his arms. And she loved it rather than hating it as she should. She ached for more. Ached for the world to recede, the knowledge of blood and death to be wiped away by a passion that burned like wildfire between them.

“No,
this
is crazy.” He released her as quickly as he had dragged her into his arms, his eyes heavy-lidded, lust burning in them as he quickly stepped away from her. “Get your shower!”

The abrupt order had her staring back at him in confusion. “My shower?”

The look he gave her was filled with irritation and lust.

“Diego is waiting on us downstairs and I have a meeting on the other side of the island in less than three hours. That gives you approximately thirty minutes to shower and dress.”

“Plenty of time.” She waved the time constraint away with a smug smile as she lashed out with her other hand, gripped
the band of his pants, and tried to pull him to her. Or rather, pull herself to him, because he wasn’t moving. But as she gripped the band, her fingers flicked the button loose and the other hand gripped his zipper and slid it down. “Gotcha, babe.” Her hand slid into his pants, her fingers curling around the broad, thick length of an erection so damned hard it could be iron. Living iron. Pulsing in her hand and sending a surge of hunger through her so strong it weakened her knees.

The feel of him in her hands, heavy veins pulsing beneath steel-hard flesh, his whisky eyes darkening, heating, was more powerful than any aphrodisiac.

His hand latched around her wrist, holding her stroking hand still.

“I won’t be easy. And I won’t be slow.” A dark flush mantled his cheekbones as his eyes narrowed.

“Did I ask for easy? Or slow?”

He jerked her around, pulling a gasp from her lips as she found herself bent over the arm of the nearby chair, her arms pressed out in front of her, his hands gripping her wrists as she felt the first press of his cock against the swollen, sensitive tissue of her pussy.

“It’s a good thing you don’t want easy,” he growled.

The first thrust buried him halfway inside her, stretched her, sent waves of burning pleasure racing up her spine.

“Do you want easy now, Kira?” His voice was a harsh, low snarl at her ear as he pulled back.

“No.” She shook her head desperately, then cried out, her back arching as he buried in fully, fiery agonizing ecstasy racing through her pussy.

She felt his legs bracketing hers, bending as he pulled his hips back, his hard shaft sliding sensually, slowly, from the desperate grip her pussy had on him.

“You want more, Kira?”

She felt the muscles of his thighs bunch, felt his hands slide from her wrists to her hips.

“More. Always . . .” Her head fell forward as a scream of agonizing pleasure poured from her lips.

He slammed forward. No easy. He plunged inside her in one hard lunge, aided by the incredibly slick juices that poured from her. His thick flesh slid to the very depths of her, but the impalement parted tight muscles, stroked incredibly sensitive nerve endings, and sent fiery strokes of pleasure ripping through her, over her.

“Ian, oh God, what you do to me.” She panted for breath as he withdrew once again. She screamed as he slammed forward again.

It was too good. So good. Especially when he paused, his cock throbbing inside her, his thighs holding hers steady, his hands tightening almost bruisingly on her hips.

“Do to you?” He held himself inside her as her muscles rippled around him, throbbing inside her, making her crazy with the flexing, heavy weight. “You destroy my control.”

He drew back, his cock dragging through the sensitive tissue as a hard groan echoed behind her.

“What’s control?” She shivered, then shuddered as he retreated.

She knew what was coming. She tried to prepare herself for it. Her fingers clenched in the cushion of the chair, tightening as he pressed her into the opposite arm. But it wasn’t enough. He drove inside her, and she came within a breath of fracturing.

Because he didn’t stop. The hard, furious thrusts stroked and impaled, penetrated and stretched her, in half a dozen hard plunges that sent her screaming into orgasm. She clamped down on his cock, felt her release rush through her, pumping through her veins, through her mind with a detonated force that had to rival a nuclear explosion.

Behind her, Ian snarled, groaned, then jerked from her grip and a second later spilled his release against the small of her back.

He collapsed over her, the hard ridge of his cock trapped between them as his hips jerked, stroking it between their combined flesh as she shuddered in the final
throes of pleasure. It was only then she realized that he hadn’t used a condom.

It wasn’t the first time she had been taken hard, or fast. But God help her if it wasn’t the first time it had blown her mind.

Ian’s hand, callused and rough, dragged her hair back over her shoulder as his lips pressed against the curve of her arm. Hard breaths rippled over her flesh as he held her close, the now damp length of his cock still throbbing between them.

“You have twenty minutes to shower.” His voice was guttural, almost angry despite his harsh breaths, his caressing lips. “And by God, you better not be late.”

He pulled away from her as she straightened, turning and leaning against the chair, and she watched him fix his slacks. Within seconds, other than a sheen of sweat on his broad shoulders, he was perfectly collected, while her legs felt like spaghetti and her mind was mush.

“Eighteen minutes.” His voice was hard, his eyes were blazing with emotions. Anger and remnants of arousal.

“Eighteen minutes.” She tensed her legs and forced herself to move away from him. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

S
HE WAS READY IN TEN
. Ian watched as she strolled out of the bathroom dressed in white figure-skimming casual pants and a creamy sleeveless blouse.

Her long black hair was mostly dry and fell around her shoulders and down her back in a cascade of rough silk. Lightly tanned flesh contrasted with the white fabric, and those sexy-as-hell legs looked longer with the should-be-illegal white fuck-me pumps she wore with the outfit. She paced over to the walk-in closet where the maid had unpacked her luggage, disappeared inside then returned with a small, matching leather clutch.

She looked like a fallen angel.

Even after the rough treatment he had given her minutes before, bending her over the chair, fucking her like the animal he sometimes felt he was, she still managed to flash him a teasing smile.

After choosing her clothes, Ian had changed his own slacks. He wore navy now with a loose gray finely threaded cotton shirt that hung over the casual pants. He wore boots today. Not combat boots—damn, he missed those—but comfortable, well-made leather boots that would be easier to fight in if the meeting he was heading to took a nosedive.

A meeting he was going to have to take Kira to. His gaze
checked out her outfit again as his back teeth clenched in fury. She had to appear harmless, though he knew for a fact she was anything but.

He moved to the locked dresser drawer where he kept a few smaller weapons, pulled free a backup handgun and several fully loaded clips before relocking the drawer and turning to her.

“Pack these.” He handed her the weapon and ammo.

Without comment she took them, tucked them into her purse, and stared back at him with a glimmer of amusement in her blue-ringed gray eyes.

“I had my own weapons,” she told him. “What did you do with them?”

“Daniel has them.” He tucked his hands in his pants and let his gaze skim over her again. “Those heels are going to be a hell of a handicap if one of these meetings goes sour.”

“My heels weren’t a handicap in Russia,” she reminded him softly. “And if anyone is going to believe I’m a helpless little female, then the look has to be right. Dress me any other way, and they’ll be on guard.”

And she was right. She couldn’t be seen as anything less than all woman. A trophy. Nothing more.

He nodded slowly. “I’m meeting with Josef Missern. After the assassin that followed him to the buy and last night’s confrontation, he’s offered me a hell of a deal to make up for any
misunderstandings
. We’ll be meeting with him to iron out the details and see what he has.”

“I should follow behind,” she told him.

Ian watched the frown that pulled at her brow as she began to consider the drawbacks to the meeting.

He continued, “We’re meeting on the southeast coast of the island. The terrain is flatter and easier to do a flyover. We’ll come in on the ground after Trevor takes the copter over it. We’ll be in two vehicles. You and I will be with Deke, and Mendez and Cristo will be in the other vehicle. Missern will be meeting with us in the limo rather than in the open. I’ll see what he has and then we’ll leave.”

“Why not teleconference? It would be safer.”

“But harder for me to detect facial and body language,” he told her. “Missern knows I’m pissed and he’s trying to smooth things over before I retaliate against him. Let’s see how determined he is to stay alive.”

He watched her closely, gauging her reaction to the mention of his retaliation against the arms buyers. There was none; she nodded slowly as though considering the options.

“When we leave there, I’ll be meeting with the men that transport Fuentes drugs from the Colombian ports to American waters. You’ll stay with Trevor and Cristo while I talk to them. You won’t be a part of that meeting.”

Her head snapped up as her eyes glittered in protest.

“Wouldn’t you consider that a mistake?” She questioned him with an undertone of the commanding force he knew she was capable of.

“No, I consider you being at that meeting very ill-advised. As my lover, your influential position in American society as well as your recognizable name would be a hazard.”

Her lips tightened.

“Why didn’t you come in disguise?” he asked her. “Why risk yourself like this?”

“You’re not in disguise,” she finally answered, her voice low. “We do this together, as who and what we are, Ian. And I don’t ever want to hear another name from your lips while you’re taking me. No matter the circumstances.”

Damn her. He hadn’t expected that, and he hadn’t expected the sharp tug of response that pulled at his chest either.

“Not using a disguise was stupid.” Anger built inside him. Dammit, he hadn’t had a problem with control, with the things he had to do, until her. Now, the anger was rising inside him, making him a danger to her if he didn’t find a way to contain and control it. “Do you have any idea the risk to yourself and your reputation?”

“Temporary.” She waved it away. “When it’s over both our reputations will recover.”

Irritation flashed through him, emotion wore at his
control. She was too confident, too certain of her abilities. It terrified him.

It made him hard.

He stared at her for long moments, trying to understand the effect she had on him, the strength he saw in her. What could have produced a woman so incredibly feminine and yet so strong? In all the years he had come into contact with her she had been protecting rather than protected, and despite her uncle’s insistence on a bodyguard, she was fully capable of defending herself.

She made him crazy, and he was smart enough to know that part of the craziness was based on the fact that he was at heart as chauvinistic as they came. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to shield her. And she was having nothing to do with it. It was playing hell on his control and drawing him close enough to her that he could feel the risk to his own soul.