Dangerously Hot (A Hostile Operations Team Novel)(#4) (11 page)

Kev grabbed his weapon, then tore out of his room and down the short hall to the room next door. He thought about knocking, but dismissed it as an option that would take too much time—not to mention alert a potential intruder—and simply shoved the door open and burst into her room.

It was dark, except for a small night light that he knew he didn’t own, and undisturbed. Except for the woman in the bed. She’d thrown the covers off and lay there in nothing but a T-shirt that had twisted up to reveal the smoothness of her belly and the tiny panties she wore.

Kev swallowed as he lowered the gun. She was asleep, but whimpering. And then she said a word.
No
.

It tore his heart in two and halted any idea he’d had about backing out of the room and leaving her to dream. He set the gun on a small table by the door before he went over to the bed and perched on the edge.

Then he reached out and smoothed the tangle of tawny-gold hair from her face. “Lucky? Wake up. You’re dreaming, sweetheart.”

She pulled in her breath on a sob—and then her eyes snapped open. They fixed on his face, their chocolate depths wide with terror and sorrow. She blinked once. And then she sobbed again, turning away from him and pulling the pillow to her face to muffle the sound.

Kev’s heart was a mangled organ right now. It squeezed hard. “It was a dream, Lucky. A dream. I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Her crying slowly subsided as he rubbed her back. Finally, she turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes glistening with moisture. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For having a bad dream? For crying?” He shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I’d never done any of those things.”

That day so long ago when he’d walked into his boyhood home after storming out earlier that morning had been a good day to cry. He hadn’t, but he’d certainly had bad dreams. For years. If he hadn’t left that day, would he be dead too? Or could he have prevented his father from killing everyone and then turning the gun on himself?

It was a question he’d never ceased asking—and a question that would never have an answer.

Lucky pulled in a shaky breath. “Why are you so good to me?”

Kev blinked away the bad memories and focused on the woman before him.
What?
“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She looked away and swallowed, as if she couldn’t quite voice why she thought he shouldn’t be nice to her. In spite of himself, his gaze traveled down her back to the exposed curve of her hip. She had tan lines, and he found it erotic as hell. Her panties were white, flimsy, and lacy. He wanted to put a finger beneath the elastic and slide the silk down.

Kev pulled in a breath and tried to calm his raging testosterone. His cock was so hard it hurt. He closed his eyes and told himself not to look at Lucky’s skin. Not to think about the silkiness of all that smooth flesh beneath his palms. He wanted to drop his head and bury his nose in the wavy cloud of her hair. And then he wanted to kiss every inch of her while she writhed beneath him.

But he could do none of those things. He forced himself to stand. Then he squeezed his hands into fists at his side so he wouldn’t be tempted to use them.

Lucky sat up, her expression swinging toward confusion as she lifted her knees and wrapped her arms around them. And then her gaze fell down his body, and he knew what she was seeing. He didn’t try to hide it. What was the point?

Their eyes met again, and they stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

Busted.

“I’m not being good to you because I want to fuck you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he finally said. And then he decided to be brutally honest with her. “But yeah, I want that too. I’ve always wanted it. But that’s not enough for a woman like you. And it’s definitely not cool now, given the circumstances.”

She tilted her head to the side like a puppy trying to understand something curious. “What do you mean it’s not enough for a woman like me?”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say.
 

“Jesus, Lucky.” He raked a hand through his hair and then rubbed his palm over his face. “I mean you deserve better than a random fuck from a guy like me. You always have.”

Her brows arrowed down. “Don’t you think that should be up to me? What gives you the right to decide what I deserve?”

He blinked. He was at a total loss. It was clear he would never understand women. He’d just told her she was nothing to him but a body, and she wanted to know why that was a bad thing.
 

So he’d try to explain as best he could. Maybe he should be subtle. Maybe he should walk away and keep his mouth shut.

But he wasn’t capable of subtle right now. He wanted her to know the truth—and then he want her to tell him to fuck off, like he deserved.

“Marco wanted to marry you and put you on a pedestal. I never wanted that. I wanted you naked and beneath me, hot and sweaty and incoherent with pleasure. I wanted it pretty damn badly, but I also know myself. Once I’d had that from you, I’d have moved on to the next woman. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then her expression clouded.

“Fuck you, Kevin MacDonald,” she said, her voice tight and angry. She got onto her knees on the bed, her finger jabbing at him. “Fuck you for thinking you’re so damned amazing that I’d have been ruined forever just because you took me to your bed. Did you ever stop to think that maybe all I wanted was sex too? That I was no more interested in happy ever after with you than you were with me? Fuck you, you arrogant prick.”

There was the fuck you, but not the way he’d expected. It was shocking to hear her say such a thing—and hell if it wasn’t arousing too. As if he needed more arousing.

His gaze dropped from her fiery eyes to her nipples, beaded tight and pressing against her T-shirt. He wanted to lick them and his cock jumped in response.

Goddammit.
 

There was a reason he couldn’t do this
.
“It doesn’t matter what either of us wants anymore. You’re Marco’s widow,” he said, his voice suddenly raw. “And as much as I want you now, that’s a line I can’t cross.”

Her breath hitched. And then she glared at him. “There you go again, assuming things about me. I didn’t say I wanted you now, did I? That ship sailed a long time ago.”

He swallowed. It’s what he deserved to hear… and he almost believed her. But her eyes gleamed feverishly as her gaze raked over him. She couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on his cock, and a surge of something very like triumph shot through him. Her nipples were erect against her thin shirt and her pulse thrummed in her throat. She was lying, and that knowledge both pleased and angered him.

He wasn’t letting her get away with it, though he should. He should walk away and let sleeping dogs lie. But he just wasn’t capable of it. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface.

“You didn’t have to say it. It’s obvious.”

Her eyes flashed, but instead of hiding from him, she knelt there proudly, hands on hips, breasts jutting forward, their curves so round and tempting. “Nipples? That’s your proof? I haven’t been warm since I landed in this icebox and you think my nipples are hard for any other reason?”

Stop now, dude. Just stop.
“Yeah, I do.”

She snorted. “We all want you, don’t we, Southern boy? You turn up the drawl and we fling our panties at you.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Take your drawl down to the bar and get laid so your brain will be clear again. I’m going back to sleep.”

He should do exactly as she told him. He should walk out of this house, go down to the nearest bar, and pick up a woman. Or he should scroll through the contacts on his phone and call one of his last hookups.
 

But he couldn’t leave her here alone. And he damn sure couldn’t bring another woman back to his own house and fuck her next door while Lucky lay here in her little T-shirt and flimsy panties.

No, she was the one he wanted. And he was going to go fucking crazy living with her for the next few weeks and not being able to touch her.

“You know what I think?” he said, his voice like a whip in the semidarkness of the room. She made him crazy, and he’d be damned if he was going crazy alone. “I think you’re every bit as horny as I am. I think you want me.”

What the fuck was he saying? Why was he pushing her? This was not what he’d promised Marco.

He could hear her breathing sharply, see her chest rising and falling in the soft glow of the night light, and he knew he’d hit a nerve.
Tell me to fuck off, Lucky. Tell me I’m wrong.

“Maybe I am horny,” she said hoarsely, and he took an involuntary step toward her. “But if you touch me now, if you dare to touch me, I’ll go to Mendez and tell him I can’t work with you.”

He stalked toward her. “Maybe I want you to do just that. Did you ever think of that? Maybe being near you without being able to touch you is driving me crazy, and maybe I’ll have some peace if you get me kicked off this op.”
 

He stopped beside the bed. She was still kneeling there, her head tilted back to gaze up at him, her eyes searching his face. Her lips were so pink and moist, so lush. He wanted to taste them one more time. Needed to taste them. If he did that, maybe he could shake this inconvenient attraction to his friend’s widow. Maybe kissing Lucky was nothing like he remembered. There would be no spark, no need rushing through him, no desire to ravage and claim.

There would be nothing but emptiness, and he could go back to life the way he understood it. He could stop thinking about this damn woman and what might have been if he’d not walked away and given her to Marco.

She didn’t shrink away from him. Her gaze sank to his cock again and need speared into him. Kev reached for her, cupped his hands on either side of her head, and thrust his fingers into her gleaming hair. She didn’t try to pull away and a surge of possessiveness rode hard through him.

He lowered his head toward hers.

“Kev…,” she whispered.

He stopped for only a second, his pulse pounding a beat in his temples, his cock. “I’m going to kiss you. And then you can complain to Mendez all you damn well like.”

CHAPTER TEN

Lucky’s heart was about to beat right out of her chest. She knew she should object. Strenuously. She should put her hands on his chest and shove. She should tell him to get the hell out of her room and leave her alone.

She’d told him she didn’t want him. She’d said he didn’t make her horny, and she’d said she would tell Mendez if he touched her.
 

God help her, she’d lied.

Her hands didn’t go to his chest. They went to his arms, gripped his heavy biceps, and held on for dear life. Her pulse hammered hard, and her nipples strained against the cotton of her shirt. No, she wasn’t cold, damn him. She was excited. Nervous. Scared.

She hadn’t been touched by a man in so long, and even then, even when Marco had been gentle and sweet, she’d been edgy. She was edgy now for a different reason.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as his head descended. He dragged her closer until her body was plastered to his, his mouth a whisper away from hers. She wanted it more than she wanted her next breath.

He hesitated. “Tell me to stop, Lucky.”

She licked her lips, her eyes wide on his. “I… I can’t.”

He stared at her for a long moment. And then he swore before his mouth claimed hers.
 

A lightning storm of sensation exploded in her belly, her limbs. Her sex. Liquid heat flooded her as her skin sizzled and burned. She ached in ways she’d forgotten were possible. She hadn’t been with a man since Marco. He’d been thoughtful and tender, but he hadn’t made her burn. It had probably been her fears getting in the way—and yet she burned now.

God how she burned.

Kev tilted her head back and thrust his tongue between her lips. Lucky moaned softly as she clung to him. He tasted like toothpaste and man and she wanted more of him, so much more. Her hands slid up his biceps, and then she looped her arms around his neck. He groaned and pulled her tighter against him until her breasts were flattened against the hard planes of his chest.

His hands drifted down to cup her ass as his tongue demanded more from her. Lucky met him stroke for stroke. The kiss they’d shared so long ago had been sweet compared to this one, tender. This kiss was hot. Sensual. Sexy.

It was the kind of kiss that two people shared when they were desperate for each other.

Kev’s hands drifted back up, shaped her waist, her ribs, before cupping her breasts. He could have gone beneath her T-shirt, but he stayed on top of it. That little bit of consideration made her heart pinch.

His mouth left hers, slid hotly down the column of her throat, and then fastened over one tight nipple. Lucky gasped at the heat and sensual shock. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward his mouth. She wished she could feel his tongue on her naked flesh instead of through the cotton.

But oh, it was wicked good to feel his mouth at all.

He nipped and sucked, softly, and Lucky realized she was making little panting noises. He stopped and lifted his head, his blue eyes lasering into hers.