INTO DANGER (Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) Book 1) (8 page)

“As long as we watch her every move, sir, we’ll find out what we’re after.”

Harden nodded. “Tell me what happened today. Then you can go home and get some beauty sleep. Seems like your Miss M. likes her men pretty. We’ll keep watch while you play.”

Steve ignored the insult. He was used to being tested. Besides, he heard the underlying warning. He would be watched as well.

––––––––

W
ow, if he looked like that when he was pissed off, Marlena couldn’t wait till she really pushed him over the edge. This Stash had a brooding look that spelled dangerous with a capital D. He looked as if he’d been up most of the night—his hair was wind-tossed and he hadn’t shaved. He must have thrown on his oldest things—a dirty old sweatshirt and jeans so faded there were white creases in the most interesting places.

Marlena had never had a wild animal waiting on her doorstep before. She took in his appearance silently, from the top of his messy hair down, down those long Levi’s—pausing a moment there—to the scuffed-up shoes. There was a backpack by his feet.

She returned her gaze to his. “Bad night?” she asked lightly, holding the door ajar.

“What makes you think so?” he retorted, picking up the backpack and coming in.

Steve waited till they walked past the surveillance device he knew she’d left out in the hallway (she was a sensible assassin, if there were such a thing), until they were in the living room. Without another word, he pulled her around by the elbow and pushed her against the wall.

Maybe if he kissed her in anger, he would get rid of the constant craving to taste her. Maybe if he was a little rough this time, he would get under her skin and she would push back. Show him that hidden side of her that would repulse him. Then maybe he could get past the idea of actually liking her.

Instead of fighting him, her arms snaked around his neck and she pulled herself up, twining her legs around his waist. Then she opened her mouth invitingly. That maddened him even more. He grabbed her hands and held them prisoner against the wall, grinding his hips against hers as he savaged her mouth. Why did she have to smell so damn good? He tried to ignore its seductive grip, concentrating on conquering the woman instead. He
would
conquer this strange weakness in himself.

She shouldn’t be responding to him. She wasn’t a submissive woman. Why wasn’t she fighting him, damn her? He pushed her hands high up above her head and locked one hand around both wrists, then he roughly pushed up her blouse and cupped her breast. He muttered a curse against her lips. Why the hell didn’t she have a bra on?

And suddenly her scent, her compliant mouth, the taste of her, the yielding softness of her breast engulfed his senses, and with a groan he settled more comfortably between her open legs. She gave a throaty response of her own when he gently played with her nipple, arching up against him. He wanted more. He wanted a response from every part of her.

In the back of her mind, somewhere back where she stored caution and sanity, Marlena reminded herself that she could break out of his grip. The problem was, she didn’t want to. He was pissed off as hell, and it excited her. He tasted male and menacing, his lips were hard and punishing. His morning stubble scraped her cheeks, as he silently and insistently took his fill of her. His hold was anything but tender, yet she found herself responding to him, giving in to his demands. It was exhilarating to have this man focused entirely on her—his attention, all his emotions, all thought was zeroed in on her.

This just couldn’t be. She never ever let a man take over, not in this kind of situation. But here she was, hands locked above her head, at her most vulnerable. She would not be dominated like this—should not—and the thought of stopping surfaced for a moment before he slipped his hand inside her blouse and touched her breasts. A moan escaped from deep inside her. The feel of his fingers brushing her nipple gently was a direct contrast to his conquering mouth. She felt weak, breathless. She forgot about stopping him. There was only his scent and the taste of him as his kiss become less urgent, but not less commanding. And always, always, that soft caress of his fingers on her sensitive skin. Back and forth, his thumb rolled and teased. That by-now-familiar tension in her stomach coiled tighter, her lust for his touch a damp throbbing between her legs.

Steve tried to hang on to his disappearing anger. He didn’t want it gone. It was the only excuse he had to kiss her, to want her. He felt a certain charge of power when he was angry, as if he could handle this woman without letting his emotions get involved. To his surprise, instead of fighting him like the control freak she was, the damn woman was giving in to him. That not only dampened the edge of his temper, but now the thought of her weak and yielding only increased his desire. Damn, damn, damn.

He broke off the kiss, fighting himself more than her. Her soft moan of protest didn’t help, either, and he sucked in his breath when the strong legs around his waist pulled him even harder against her lower body. She opened her eyes and they were so blue they looked violet. Her expression was so shatteringly open, he forgot to discharge the air in his lungs. Not the usual amused mockery. None of the confident and knowing gaze. Instead she had that startled, vulnerable look in her eyes again. And a hunger in them that caught him by surprise. Beneath his hand, her heart beat as rapidly as his. She blinked. The look disappeared.

Marlena licked her swollen lips slowly, willing that thundering sound in her head to slow down. The heat of his lower body burned through her cotton shorts. She had to say something—anything—to establish control again.

“Are you hungry again?” she asked, trying to clear the huskiness from her voice. She jerked her imprisoned hands a little, testing his strength. His hold remained viselike. Yet she didn’t feel at all threatened.

His midnight eyes glittered back with suppressed emotion. There was still anger, but also something more. “I’m very hungry.”

His growl shook Marlena’s very being. He aroused something primitive in her that made her breathless and eager, like a young schoolgirl. She shouldn’t like how he affected her.

“Leftover muffins? Stale pancakes?” She had to cool the situation down right now.

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to satisfy my hunger. I’m looking for something tastier. Something different.” To demonstrate the direction of his thoughts, he bent his head and scraped his teeth along her jaw, adding, in between nibbles, “Something delicious.”

The shaking inside her had become tremors. She didn’t like it. No, she wasn’t liking this one bit. She opened her mouth, intending a smart, distracting observation. “Oh...” was all she managed when teeth sank into her pulse point.

“Not so in charge now, are you, Miss Maxwell?” he mocked, his breath hot against her skin as he continued nibbling.

That was it. No man was allowed to think he had the upper hand where she was concerned. She moaned and went limp, allowing her weight to pull her down. Her legs slid down the sides of his body and she rubbed herself sensuously against the front of his jeans. Pleasure exploded in her loins and she used it ruthlessly to further her end, as she pretended to try to hoist herself back, and seemingly unable to muster the strength, she kept shimmying up and down where groin met groin.

Steve couldn’t see a thing as all his senses rushed eagerly to converge in one happy place. Oh man. His eyes literally crossed when Marlena slid in a particular way as she tried to regain her balance. He slid his hand from under her blouse and took a step back so he could fit it under her butt to hoist her back up.

Steve learned a new maxim that day. Never allow Marlena Maxwell a few inches of freedom. The moment his hand came in contact with her nice, firm behind, she slammed backward—hard—trapping his hand against the wall, and at the same time lifted her knees to her chest. She kicked out and he chose to let her hands go, rather than risk an injury where her feet were too close for comfort. Her pointy little toes certainly weren’t sliding up and down as she had been doing moments before.

She dropped down on her feet, and one hand shot out to grasp his neck. Steve turned his head slightly and pinched her bottom at the same time. Hard.

“Ow!” She was so startled by the unconventional fighting tactic she stopped going on the attack. He almost laughed at the reproach in her blue eyes. In fact he did when she complained, in the mildest of voices, “You don’t play nice.”

The laughter did it. His temper evaporated. And what was left behind—Steve didn’t even know whether he could deal with. He still liked her, damn it.

He especially liked the way she looked now. Her hair had these cute little waves sticking out in different directions. Her lips were rosy and swollen from his kiss. Even now, desire still glowed from those eyes. She had the look of a female about to be claimed. And he had put it there, he noted, with male satisfaction.

He rubbed her sore tush. “After what you did to me last night, I don’t feel nice.” He was used to talking on several levels with this woman by now. Two could play at these kissing games. He was referring to the incident on her bed as well as her betrayal, getting him in trouble on purpose. Undoubtedly she, queen of innuendo, knew that, too.

Marlena leaned back against the wall. Its coolness helped to disperse some of the sexual heat emanating from this man. He had surprised her once again. She had expected anger, had anticipated some sort of retaliation, but certainly not in this fashion.

Dangerous. That was the description she’d come up with at the door. Very dangerous. She frowned when he gave her a crooked, taut smile, as if he’d discovered something she didn’t want him to know. He deliberately crowded her, placing two hands on each side of her head, leaning so close she wanted to rub her face into his chest and enjoy that very male scent of heated desire. Instead she looked up.

“Nothing to say?” he taunted softly. “Aren’t you going to teach me obedience?”

“You realize I’m definitely going to lodge a complaint to your handler,” she said.

“I don’t let anyone handle me.” Then he added sardonically, “Except you, of course.”

Ah, back to familiar territory. She did so enjoy fencing verbally with him. “Stash,” she drawled, lifting her chin in challenge. “I must have missed the part of the label on you that said, ‘Handle with care.’ I do hate high-maintenance things that need extra attention.”

She wished he was still in a rage, because the lazy smile that settled on his sensuous lips now gave her heart strange butterfly flutters. His mouth was a mere breath away from hers.

“Oh yeah? You forgot to read the rest of the label.”

“What’s that?”

“It also says, ‘Made in heaven.’”

She blinked, caught between amusement and desire. It must be the cocky charm, she decided, that kept her off balance. “What do they do in heaven to clean up?” she drawled. “Surely heavenly beings look a lot less...” She paused to find a substitution. No need to let him know she thought him dangerous. “...disastrous.”

Steve sniffed. Smart ass. “I brought my things in the backpack. I figure I can use the spare room here.” He canted a brow. “Unless, of course, you want me to use the other bathroom. I can be persuaded.”

“I bet.” Her answering smile was wry, suspicious. “Why didn’t you do it at your own place? All you had to do was call in late.”

“I overslept,” Steve lied. He hadn’t slept at all. He’d spent most of the night after debriefing going through Marlena’s file, rereading it, trying to fill the holes. “Instead of being late, I just came here as is.”

She laughed. “As is,” she repeated, wrinkling her nose. “Now you sound like some damaged goods off the rack.”

“Want to check for damage?” Steve invited, straightening up. He lifted his arms out voluntarily. “You can hardly see it.”

He almost choked at the place she was staring at. Did she think he was damaged there? On second thought, the last few days’ zipper frustration probably exacted some kind of injury.

“Are you sure I can hardly see it?”

“Nothing you can’t easily repair,” he assured her. He backed up, giving her some space. Or maybe it was he who needed breathing room. Anger. He needed some kind of negative emotion to keep his mind on her, not on his needs. He added, for good measure, “And it shouldn’t take that long.”

The speculative gleam in her eyes curled his toes. Raised his blood pressure in the wrong place. Her look suggested what she had in mind was going to take a long, long time. He felt an answering nudge, nodding in eager agreement. Traitor. More zipper damage in the future.

***

M
arlena looked up at the electronic surveillance device she’d left intact in the kitchen. She stuck her tongue out at it. “It’s all your fault,” she scolded out loud, even though there were no microphones. “I hold you fully responsible for my doing this.”

“This” was something Marlena Maxwell hadn’t done in a long time. “This” was standing at the kitchen stove with an apron on, cooking a meal for two. It was unfamiliar territory, this domestic intimacy. And the horrible thing was, she was actually enjoying it. Preparing a meal for two was a lot different from opening the fridge and picking out things to eat. It held all the promises she wasn’t able to make to any man. Dedication. Commitment. Compromise. Nor had any man ever been able to make the same promises to her.

So why was she even doing this? Let him make himself a sandwich. Let him serve her. Yet here she was, humming a tune and fixing some omelets. She popped a piece from the frying pan into her mouth and licked her fingers thoughtfully. More salt? Pepper. She frowned at the spice racks. Or maybe a little bit of everything else. She shrugged, then chose paprika, and shook it into the bowl. A dash of this. A dash of that.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Steve asked from the doorway. He’d been watching her for a few minutes, feeling more amazed by the second. Maybe he’d fallen asleep back at his apartment and this was just a strange dream. He raked a hand through his hair and found it damp from the shower he’d just taken. Nope, he was definitely awake for this.