Midnight Action

by Elle Kennedy

  He cupped her buttocks and thrust his lower body into hers, and a moan escaped her lips at the feel of his erection pressing into her belly.

  So this was desire. This was lust. She’d feared that René had destroyed her ability to experience such powerful sexual emotions, and triumph soared through her when she realized that he hadn’t. He hadn’t stolen this from her.

  As a wave of liberation crested inside her, Noelle dug her fingers into Jim’s shoulders and kissed him back hungrily. She didn’t care that he wanted to take things slow. She wanted him. She needed him.

  With frantic hands, she tugged on the hem of his T-shirt, desperately trying to lift it up, but he stopped her by stumbling backward.

  “No,” he said hoarsely. “We can’t.”

  Determination hardened her features. “We can. I want to.”

  “Not yet.” He practically choked out the words, as if he didn’t want to say them but was forcing himself to.

  She could see in his eyes that he didn’t want to stop. His gaze burned with need, and his cheeks were flushed from passion. He kept his hands at his sides, curled into tight fists, like he was trying not to reach out and touch her.

  “Why not?” she pressed.

  “Because I don’t want to rush it. You’re special—don’t you get that? You deserve more than...than me, damn it.”

  She furrowed her brows in surprise. “Don’t say that. I’m lucky to have you—don’t you get that?”

  His expression went shuttered, but not before she glimpsed a flash of anguish.

  “You really want us to wait?” she said slowly.

  He released a ragged breath. “I do. I know it doesn’t make much sense to you, but I can’t just rush you into my bed. I need to earn it.”

  He was right—his cryptic words didn’t make a lick of sense to her, but he sounded so tormented and looked so upset that she decided not to push him.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “We’ll go back to taking it slow.”

  The relief that flooded his face was unmistakable. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

  Dinner? Uh, yeah, right. What she wanted to do was kiss him again. To lose herself in those incredible sensations and never leave his side.

  But after a beat, she simply nodded. “Sure.”

  “Okay, cool. Let me just grab my coat and wallet.”

  He took several steps toward the bedroom, but stopped before he reached the door. “Noelle?”

  “Yeah?”

  When he turned to face her, her breath lodged in her lungs.

  He swallowed, looking more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. “That was the best kiss of my life.”

  Chapter 7

  Present day

  The second she and Jim got back to the town house, Noelle made a beeline for the living room bar and poured herself a glass of brandy. She heard him come up behind her, and his proximity raised her hackles. For some inexplicable reason the man seemed determined to stick to her like glue—and she didn’t like it one damn bit. Bad enough that he’d joined her at the club, but now he was crowding her in her own home?

  She spun around and scowled at him. “Quit shadowing me. It’s annoying.”

  “Why couldn’t you just say you were working a job back there?” he said gruffly. “Why all the subterfuge?”

  “What subterfuge? I said I wanted to go dancing—I went dancing.” She sipped the expensive alcohol, hoping it would ease her high-strung nerves. “I also happened to eliminate a slimebag and make a million bucks. What’s it to you? In fact, why the hell are you still here?”

  His long fingers hooked into the belt loops of his olive green cargo pants. She saw a muscle in his jaw twitch, and then his throat dipped, as if he was fighting the words that finally left his mouth.

  “I want you to help me find the person who hired Girard.” When he met her eyes, she’d never seen him so ill at ease. “So...I’ll ask you again. Will you, please”—he blanched at the word—“help me?”

  A smug smile stretched across her face. “Aw, was that so hard?”

  “Yes or no, Noelle.”

  “Yes.” Her grin widened. “But only because it means you’ll owe me one.”

  “Nothing comes from the goodness of your heart, huh?”

  “Of course not. Generosity gets you nowhere.” She slugged back the rest of her brandy and slammed the glass on the bar top. “I’m turning in now. We’ll do some digging in the morning.”

  As she stepped forward, she deliberately allowed her bare arm to brush his, and enjoyed his intake of breath.

  Before she could blink, his hand curled over her wrist to keep her in place.

  “This teasing bullshit needs to stop,” he snapped.

  “Let go of me,” she said coolly.

  His fingers only dug harder into her flesh. “And your pretense of indifference is getting old, baby. Go ahead and flaunt your body, rub up against me, try to get me going, but don’t pretend it doesn’t affect you too.” He pressed his thumb on the pulse point in her wrist. “You want to fuck me.”

  She let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh really?”

  Jim’s answering laugh was dark and sensual. “You. Want. To. Fuck. Me.” Each word came out in a slow, infuriating rasp.

  Noelle tilted her head, and the look on his face sent her pulse careening. Hot and feral, with raw resentment thrown into the mix.

  He hated this as much as she did. The tension thickening the air, the volatile emotions whipping between them like unsecured cables in a windstorm.

  As she peered up at him, signs of arousal bloomed in her body. Her breasts grew achy. Her core throbbed. Her heart pounded. And in the center of the carnal storm raging inside her was her own hefty dose of resentment. She hated him for having the power to do this to her. To ignite her body this way.

  “Not gonna try to deny it?” he taunted.

  Noelle sucked in a shaky breath.

  “Nah, didn’t think you would.”

  Keeping her wrist in a death grip, he brought his other hand to his groin and cupped his package. Hard.

  Her sex clenched as she watched him stroke the hard ridge of arousal beneath his pants.

  “You want this, don’t you?”

  “Fuck off,” she managed to squeeze out.

  Jim wasn’t finished tormenting her. “Baby, we both know you want my cock inside you. Remember how deep it filled you? Remember the way I made you moan?”

  Oh God. She did. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Their naked bodies entwined on crisp linen sheets, her pussy stretching to accommodate him, her inner muscles clasping his thick shaft.

  Moisture pooled between her legs, while the saliva in her mouth turned to dust.

  “Do you remember?”

  She swallowed before responding. “No.”

  “Yes, you do.” He stroked the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb. “You remember every second of it.”

  She yanked her hand away as a spike of anger pierced her chest. “No, what I remember is your lies. I remember your betrayal. I remember that. So I repeat, fuck off. Fuck off and don’t ever touch me again—”

  His mouth came down on hers without warning, his kiss hot and demanding, a greedy domination that almost knocked her off her feet. She had no choice but to grab on to him, bunching his T-shirt between her fingers as his tongue plunged inside her mouth.

  The taste of him sent her mind spinning. His rock-hard abs quivered beneath her fingers, neck muscles straining as he angled his head to drive the kiss deeper.

  When their tongues touched, it was like an incredible drug had been injected into her system. A moan of desperation slipped out before she could stop it, which only triggered a low growl from Jim’s throat.

  He thrust his hand in her updo, tugging at the pi
ns that kept it up. They fell to the carpet as her hair came free, and then he fisted the loose strands, pulling to the point of pain. All the while his mouth continued to devour hers, depriving her of much-needed oxygen, a never-ending kiss that exhilarated her senses and stole her sanity.

  God, she had to regain control. She couldn’t let him draw her in again, not after everything he’d done to her.

  The memory of his betrayal was all it took for her to find her footing. It was all it took to bring a flash of clarity to her mind.

  With a growl of her own, she captured his lower lip between her teeth and bit him.

  Hard.

  Jim’s angry curse delivered her back to the welcome realm of reality. Gasping for air, she wrenched herself out of his grasp. She saw his blood glistening on his lips, and she basked in the satisfaction of knowing she’d caused him pain.

  Aggravation burned in his midnight blue eyes as he lifted a hand to his mouth and touched the puncture. But he didn’t say a word. Just gazed at her, thoughtfully almost, which only fueled her growing rage.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” she hissed out.

  Jim wiped his hand on the front of his shirt, leaving a streak of red against the white fabric.

  “I let it slide at the airport back in February, but I’m done with this shit. You understand?” Her features hardened as she glowered at him. “Kiss me again without my permission and I’ll slit your throat.”

  Fighting the uncontrollable beating of her heart, Noelle bulldozed past him and stormed out of the room, leaving him in the same state he’d left her all those years ago.

  Bloody and alone.

  Chapter 8

  “I hate this.” Sullivan’s gray eyes flashed as he voiced the bitter complaint to the other men. “We should be helping the boss.”

  It was rare to see Sully so distressed, though Liam didn’t blame him one bit. Their boss’s order for them to stay put didn’t sit right with him either. He’d been trying not to think about it, had even suggested a night of poker to distract himself and the others, but nobody had bothered dealing the cards yet; the unshuffled deck sat in the center of the table, along with the men’s unopened beer bottles.

  “But your girl is helping them, right?” asked David “Ash” Ashton, the newest member of their team.

  The question was directed at Ethan Hayes, who shook his head. “Juliet left this morning for South Africa. She’s on another job.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides, can you really see Jules enjoying herself on a fact-finding mission with Noelle and Morgan? The woman is built for action. She’d go nuts.”

  From his seat across the table, Sullivan finally seemed to relax, casting Ethan a grin. “Action, huh? I hope you’ve been giving her all the action she needs. If not, I’m perfectly happy to step in and take over.”

  Ethan flipped up his middle finger. “In your dreams, dude.”

  “Oh, for real. I dream about Juliet every night, mate.”

  “Remember what I told you in Belarus?” Ethan’s hazel eyes took on a deadly glint. “Touch her and you’re dead.”

  Sullivan sighed. “You’re so possessive, rookie. Jeez. Share the wealth.”

  Now the other man looked smug. “I ain’t the rookie anymore, Aussie. You get to pick on Ash now.”

  “Hey, don’t go bringing li’l ole me into this.” Ash’s Tennessee drawl always seemed to thicken when he was pulling his aw-shucks, good-old-boy shtick.

  Ash had been around for only three months, but Liam already loved Morgan’s newest recruit. Ash was young—twenty-three or so—but he was smart, highly trained, and damn good at following orders. The kid also had ladies’ man written all over that chiseled face of his, and Liam had no doubt that Ash’s messy dark hair, laughing green eyes, and crooked grin had charmed the panties off numerous ladies.

  “Hey,” Ash suddenly said. “So what exactly is the deal with Morgan and that Noelle woman? Did they date or something?”

  The other men snickered.

  “Morgan doesn’t ‘date,’” Liam answered with a grin. “I’m pretty sure he just fucks and runs.”

  “So he used to fuck her?” Ash pressed.

  Sullivan shrugged. “Sure seems like it, mate, but he’s never confirmed or denied it.”

  “He hates her guts,” Ethan spoke up. “We know that much.”

  Ash sounded thoughtful. “If he hates her, why did he fly off to Paris with her?”

  “You ask us this as if we’re in the loop,” Liam said dryly. “But trust me, we’re the last people to know the important stuff. If you want details, go upstairs and ask Abby. I bet she knows.”

  “Dude, I’m not going anywhere near her unless I have pickles or ice cream on hand, and we’re out of both because she ate them all.” Ash sighed. “Pregnant women are scary.”

  “Well, then you’re shit out of luck, because we never know shit.”

  “Aw, Boston, are you jealous about not being part of the inner circle?” Sully taunted.

  “Damn straight,” Liam retorted. “’Cause you know what happens when you’re in the inner circle? You get to hook up with a hot chick. Case in point—Kane. Second-in-command and he lands a hot redhead. Trevor—team leader for most gigs, marries a hot blonde. Former rookie over here”—he hooked a thumb at Ethan—“gets to lead an op in Belarus and winds up with a hot brunette. I rest my case.”

  “And don’t forget about D,” Ethan said in response to Liam’s theory. “Also in the inner circle, and hooked up with Noelle. So...you might be onto something.”

  “Wait—what?” Liam blinked in surprise.

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, like you didn’t suspect.”

  “You’re messing with us,” Sullivan piped up. “No way is D screwing around with Morgan’s archenemy.”

  “I’m pretty sure he is,” Ethan replied, shrugging. “Or at least he was at one point in time.”

  “Bullshit,” Liam argued. He didn’t know much about D’s background, but he knew the guy’s personality, and, well, he couldn’t imagine that prickly asshole getting involved with a woman. Or a man. Or pretty much anyone, really. The tight-lipped merc didn’t form attachments. Hell, he barely spoke more than five words at a time.

  On the other hand, unless D was living a life of celibacy, he had to get his rocks off sometimes, and Liam realized Noelle was probably the best candidate for that. She was smokin’ hot, but not a woman you’d ever want as a permanent fixture in your life. For a man like D, that must be a damn good arrangement.

  “Well, if he’s doing her, he’s one lucky bastard,” Sully muttered.

  “No way,” Ethan disagreed. “That woman is terrifying.”

  “Yeah, but she’s also the hottest chick on the planet. I’d do her.”

  Liam had to sigh. “You’d do anyone.”

  Sullivan, of course, didn’t refute that. The man made no secret of the fact that he enjoyed sex. A lot.

  Liam had witnessed and participated in his fair share of Sully’s hookups, and those he hadn’t experienced firsthand had been recounted to him in excruciating detail by the cocky Australian. Which meant he knew damn well that Sullivan wasn’t picky when it came to sex, and yeah, he also knew that Sullivan swung both ways, but he honestly didn’t care who the guy slept with. Men, women—Liam wasn’t one to judge.

  Except...Aw hell, bad idea thinking about Sullivan with another man right now. Bad fucking idea.

  “I’m gonna take a walk.” He rose abruptly from his chair, averting the men’s gazes. “If we’re not playing poker, I might as well get some exercise.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Ethan stand up too. “Yeah, I should go in and gather my gear. We’re heading out soon.”

  Liam headed for the stairs on the other side of the terrace, all the while wishing the boss hadn’t inflicted this mandatory downtime on them. He would’ve killed
to join Ethan and the others in Ecuador, to have a mission to concentrate on, but Morgan’s orders were set in stone, so Liam had to suck it up and stay on the compound.

  “Wait up,” he heard Sullivan call from behind him. “I could use a walk too.”

  He hesitated on the bottom step. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single excuse for why Sully couldn’t join him.

  The two of them fell into step with each other, heading away from the pool area toward the cluster of ceiba trees at the edge of the backyard. Tangled vines and thick undergrowth spanned the ground beneath their boots, which didn’t make a sound as they walked through the brush.

  Liam breathed in the familiar scents of the jungle, the damp earth and acrid rot and sweet flora. A gap in the sweeping canopy of trees allowed a sliver of moonlight to light their path, and that same shard of white light also illuminated Sully’s features, those rugged good looks that never failed to make women swoon.

  “Being around those two makes me feel old,” Liam remarked in a glum voice.

  “Ethan and Ash?”

  “Yeah. They make me wish I was still in my twenties.”

  “You’re only thirty-two. That’s closer to your twenties than you think. Besides, thirty is the new twenty.”

  “I don’t get why people say that,” he grumbled. “It doesn’t make any sense. Twenty is twenty. Thirty is thirty. End of story.”

  “You really need to stop thinking in black and white, mate,” Sullivan said with a chuckle.

  It wasn’t the first time his buddy had accused him of that, but Liam didn’t know how to think any other way. Right and wrong, good and bad—that was how his brain worked. He operated on logic, thought things through, weighed each and every action before carrying it out.

  Sullivan was the impulsive one in the friendship, the one who jumped first and asked questions later. His spontaneity had led him into a shit ton of precarious situations over the years, and lately it was Liam who’d taken on the role of keeping Sully in check, forcing his friend to consider the consequences before he went off half-cocked.