Before she realized it, he was between her thighs and shoving his cock inside her. Rebecca arched her hips closer and cried out at the sudden fullness. He was so thick that she felt every inch, every ridge, and the pleasure was agonizing. She was so turned on, so wet that he didn’t have to thrust more than once before he was completely inside her.
He held still for a moment, his breath heaving. Major met her eyes and Rebecca arched into him with a whimper. Suddenly he was fucking her hard and fast, their bodies slick with sweat from dancing. Major’s lips rested against her ear and Rebecca loved each harsh breath that escaped his lungs.
“Don’t you…ever…dance…” His head tilted back for a moment and he shuddered before lowering his gaze to hers to finish the sentence, “…with anyone…like that…again.”
Major licked his thumb and pressed it against her clit, rubbing in tempo with his thrusts. Rebecca groaned and urged him on faster. Without warning, she flew apart, moving her hips up and down against him, draining every ounce of pleasure from her orgasm. She hadn’t finished coming when Major took over, his hands squeezing her hips and pulling her onto him in fast, short strokes before throwing his head back and gritting his teeth against the intensity of his own release.
Rebecca felt the hot spurts and squeezed her pussy around him, working herself up and down on his cock until his movements slowed and stopped. His shoulders were hunched and he pressed a quick kiss against her neck before pulling away.
Major didn’t step back completely though. He slid his hand to her pussy again and stroked. His cum trickled out and down the curves of her ass as he spread the wetness for long, breathless moments. When Rebecca felt desire begin to stir again, Major pulled his fingers out and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. Rebecca licked it slowly, tasting herself and him. She quaked and moaned against the unbearable delectation. Major leaned in and whispered in her ear, his voice full of barely restrained viciousness, “Never. Do you hear me?”
With that cryptic comment he was gone, barely fastening his jeans before slipping through the black curtain.
* * * *
The thumping music of the club faded into the background as the major stalked away. Tried to stalk, anyway. His body was so relaxed and sated that all he wanted to do was curl into Rebecca and sleep. That had been, beyond a shadow of doubt, the hottest dance of his entire life. Hell, just thinking about it made his cock twitch again. And after coming as hard as he had, that was a fucking miracle in and of itself.
The major looked around, trying to get his bearings and figure out where he was. “Fuck.” He had no clue how to get back to the seedy motel and he was so far away from the taxi pickup zone outside the club that he had no chance of finding a cab. And there was no way in hell he was going back. Not even to stand outside. He should never have sought her out. It was fucking insanity, quite possibly suicide. Not to mention the danger she would be in if…the major cut off that train of thought. Rebecca was safe. She was surrounded by SEALs. It didn’t get much safer than that.
But he’d put himself in an irritating situation by storming out of the club and down the street. Now he’d have to wander around until he figured out where he was. He’d been too preoccupied in the cab on the way to the club to notice where he was going. Those mistakes will get you killed. The major huffed. Yep, Rebecca had damn near killed him. He rubbed his brow, trying to dispel the stress headache building behind his eyes. Dropping his hand, he looked around at the irritatingly unfamiliar scenery.
The major sighed in resignation and began to randomly walk down a street. He wasn’t afraid of the punks that roamed alleys after dark. If Naseem Syed Javid hadn’t managed to kill the major yet…well, he didn’t worry too much about anyone else succeeding. He allowed a cruel smile to curl the corners of his eyes. The major had quite a price on his head in several countries, with more than five terrorist organizations. Fortunately, none of them had the faintest clue who he was, what government he worked for, or even what he looked like at any given point in time. Javid was just the most recent addition to what had become quite a long list.
“You.” A deep, menacing voice came from behind the major. He smiled that cruel feeling smile again and let the sweetness of Rebecca fade from his limbs as his training kicked in. Good. He’d like to clean up the streets of his homeland a bit since he had the opportunity.
The major turned around and bit off a curse when he saw who stood before him. It figured. Not many people could sneak up on him like that.
“Are you fucking following me?” Paulson growled as he stalked the major slowly, caution evident in every move.
The major thought furiously. If he told Paulson he’d been at the club for Rebecca, it was likely he’d end up with a few sore muscles for being truthful. He shrugged mentally. Fine, he’d lie.
“Somewhat. I have a lead.” That was true, at least.
Paulson frowned and cocked his head to the side. “A lead? Who?”
The major took a few steps closer and said, “Do you know Amaya Hughes?”
Paulson looked away, thoughtful. “I don’t think so. Why?”
The major rolled his eyes. Of course he didn’t. Paulson wasn’t cut out for the deep digging. “One of your team members is dating her. Has been for just under two years. Every time you have a mission brief or new intel come through, within twelve hours she’s making a call to London.”
Paulson shrugged. “So?”
Moron. “There’s a large Muslim community there, mostly harmless, hardworking people just trying to make a good life. There are a few, though, that I believe are controlling the entire European terrorist circuit from London.”
Paulson shrugged again. “So how is a SEAL’s girlfriend implicated because she makes calls there?”
The major watched Paulson carefully, looking for any type of reaction. “Because she was born in Baghdad. Her parents were killed in 2005. She was barely fifteen. Managed to make it to London, finished school, and became involved with a man named Naseem Ayed Javid. Suddenly, her name changes from Anam Hasni to Amaya Hughes. She made a clean break from Javid as soon as her name changed. When she moved to the US she fabricated most of her background. It was a damn good cover, too. It was a motherfucker to dig it up.” The major shook his head in irritation. It had been one of the hardest backgrounds to fully uncover that he’d ever investigated. “Anyway, just a few hours after the brief on days you receive intel, she goes to Walmart and buys a prepaid phone. Cash only. Then she registers it at an Internet café in Newport News. From that phone, she calls London for less than ten minutes. Then she trashes the phone and goes home. Within twenty-four hours of her calls to London, something changes. Compounds move, people disappear. The intel’s no good. Surely you’ve noticed how hard it’s been to get a solid lead. It falls through, doesn’t it? Just before your team has a chance to get there. Or you get there and the shit hits the fan.”
“How do you know she’s using prepaid phones if she pays cash and registers them all the way in Newport News? And how do you know she’s calling London?” Paulson was confused, his brow furrowed and his posture relaxed.
“Because she sent one text message, just once, that tipped me off enough to follow her. I retrieved the phone after she trashed it. Not hard to trace the number to London, but that’s where it stops. I can’t get a fix on who she’s calling, just a general location. She’s calling a prepaid phone registered to her old identity, so it’s hard to tell exactly who it is. But I fed you intel three times to make sure she was consistent. I know she’s the leak, but I’m working on concrete proof.” The major gritted his teeth. If he wasn’t in the US, he wouldn’t even worry about proving it. What he already had would be enough. But things weren’t always as easy to manipulate in the good old US of A as they were in other places, so he had to work a little differently. It was downright obnoxious.
Paulson had gone stiff, his hands balled into fists by his side. “Are you telling me,” he ground out, “that someone on my team is
feeding information to her?”
“Yes, I am.” The major tried to soften the blow. “Not intentionally though. I don’t think he has any idea. She may be drugging him.”
Paulson took a deep breath and looked away. “Who is it?” His voice was soft, menacing, and the major actually felt a twinge of pity for the poor bastard who’d fallen for Amaya Hughes’s charms.
“Lieutenant Javier Martinez.”
Paulson’s head jerked around and the major fought the urge to step back from the violence in his eyes.
“Martinez?” Paulson took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Lt. Martinez, the man that took over as SEAL team leader when I got promoted, is dating our leak? Unconsciously feeding her information? Lieutenant fucking Martinez is doing this. Has been for two goddamn years. Is that what you’re saying?”
The major shrugged. If it wasn’t for the fact that so many people had already been killed, it would be downright funny. “That’s the power of pussy.”
Paulson seethed in anger and turned away. “I’ll take care of this,” he growled over his shoulder.
“Wrong, Paulson,” the major bit out in a commanding voice that had made harder men than Chris Paulson quake in their boots. “You will continue as though you know nothing. If this is our leak, then I will take care of it.” He paused and conceded, “But I’ll give Martinez the option.”
Paulson’s hands clenched and relaxed by his side. He turned his head but didn’t look over his shoulder or make eye contact. His voice was soft, deadly as he asked, “What option?”
The major shrugged. What else? “He can kill her, or I can. His choice. But if she’s guilty, she dies.”
Paulson let out a short, humorless bark of laughter and turned back to face him. “So you’re judge, jury, and executioner, huh? Is that how it is? That’s not even legal.”
The major frowned. That’s how it had always been. Trials were sticky, leaving the possibility open that the wrong verdict would be handed down. Even prisoners in Gitmo could run their organization remotely from the prison if they were smart enough and had the resources on the outside. The only sure way to end the threat was to eliminate it. It wasn’t pretty and the major wasn’t proud of it. But that’s how it was, and there was no need to defend it. “Yeah,” he responded softly. “I am. But only when there’s no question. And you know I operate on a different legal scale than you.”
Paulson looked down at his feet and fisted his hands on his hips. He was struggling with it, the major knew. But Paulson’s conflict with morality and proper procedure couldn’t change what had to happen. “I can’t let you kill her unless you show me irrefutable proof.”
The major nodded. He’d planned to anyway. “Understood.” It’s not like Paulson could exactly stop him. Government-sanctioned assassin. The major shoved the words out of his mind brutally. They’d never bothered him before.
With a jerky nod Paulson turned and walked away. The major watched him go silently. At least he didn’t lose his fucking mind this time.
Chapter 10
Rebecca rolled over in bed and moaned. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her brain was freaking throbbing. She’d drank way too much. After Major left, Chris had walked Rebecca to the door to hail a cab for her. He’d known, just by looking at her, that something had happened. But he’d been kind enough to keep silent. He’d given her a gentle hug, asked if she was all right, and left it at that.
Rebecca’s night hadn’t ended there, though. If it had, she would have woken up before—she checked the clock—two thirty in the afternoon. Instead, she’d come home and cried into her beer. Rum, whatever. She’d cried harder than she had in eight years, letting the sobs consume her until she was wrung dry and drunk off her ass. Then Rebecca had stumbled to bed and passed out.
Her tears weren’t a result of getting it on with Major—first on the dance floor and then in a hidden storage room. No, Rebecca cried for what she couldn’t have. Major had come back again, but just for a moment. There would be no more sensual dances, no more fierce embraces. And worse than that, Rebecca had no possibility of having a baby to remember him by. For a few seconds after he’d left, she’d forgotten and let herself hope for a pregnancy, a small part of him that could stay with her forever.
But that had been taken from her so long ago. A cursed pregnancy and a forced miscarriage had caused irreparable damage to her uterus. So the surgeons had removed it and told her that she would never have children. Rebecca hadn’t told anyone. What was the point? There was nothing anyone could do about it; therefore there was no need to mope. Just like there was no need to rehash the things that had led to it. Some bodies were best left buried.
Tears burned her eyes again and Rebecca angrily squeezed them closed. Besides, she reasoned, Major had said he couldn’t get her pregnant anyway. It was a moot point. But for a few moments, there had been enough alcohol and adrenaline in her system that Rebecca had forgotten. And hope, the most dangerous of all emotions, had consumed her.
“I have some ibuprofen and water for you.”
The softly spoken words from the doorway of her bedroom startled a short scream from Rebecca’s throat. When she saw the man standing there, icy glass of water and pills in his hand, she nearly fainted.
“Major?” she whispered, stretching her hand out as though to make certain he was there.
“Yeah,” he responded drily. He moved toward her bed and sat down on the edge. Rebecca took the two pills from him and gratefully washed them down with the water. When she leaned over to put the glass on her nightstand, he stopped her.
“No, you need to drink it all.” Major looked in the direction of the living room. “You had a hell of a binge last night when you got home.”
Rebecca sipped the water and leaned back against her pillows. She picked at the comforter and asked, “Were you here?” Had he watched her fall apart? She didn’t think she’d be able to bear it if he had.
He frowned at her. “No. I came by to see you this morning. I wanted to…” He stood and turned away from her. “Fuck.” Major ran a hand across his bald head and turned back to look at her. “Rebecca, I…”
Rebecca fought the surge of warmth that engulfed her. He was nervous and struggling with what to say again. It was so damn sweet that he’d come to explain, and adorable that he was having trouble with it. Rebecca took a sip of water to hide her smile. She sincerely doubted Major would appreciate being called sweet and adorable.
“I’m sorry. I should have left you alone. I…” He stopped and swallowed, then glanced out the window.
“I didn’t want you to leave me alone.” Rebecca looked up at him, willing him to turn back to her, meet her eyes. She didn’t know what he was feeling unless she could see his eyes. But he continued to silently stare out the window, his face stony. Desperate to reach him somehow, Rebecca whispered, “Tell me your name.” When he stiffened, she whispered, “Please. You don’t have to tell me your last name. Just your first.”
“Major,” he whispered.
Rebecca sighed and shook her head. He still wouldn’t tell her. She cleared her throat to hide the hurt and asked “Is that a title or a nickname or what?”
Major turned back to her then and Rebecca clearly saw the agony in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide. How did no one else see it? “It was my rank. When I was recruited to bl…from the Army I kept my pay grade. I was an O-4. A major. It stuck.”
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “Your pay grade?” She lifted onto her knees, climbed off the bed and stalked up to him. She pushed hard against his shoulder. He didn’t budge and that only served to make her angrier. “I’ve been calling you by your damn rank?” Her voice rose until she was practically screeching the last word.
Major just stared at her, a dumbfounded look on his face.
Rebecca pushed him again and resisted the urge to punch him. He’d probably just stop her anyway. “Like one of your little soldiers, I’ve been calling you Major.” The wariness in hi
s eyes faded and was replaced with amusement, though his face didn’t change at all. Rage simmered behind Rebecca’s breastbone. She was insulted, felt demeaned and degraded, and she struggled against the juvenile tantrum fizzing through her limbs. Finally giving in to part of the urge, she placed both hands against his chest and tried to push.
Before she could though, his hands wrapped around her wrists and he pulled both arms behind her back. It was so fast Rebecca didn’t even blink before her body was pressed against his, her breasts flattened against his chest.
“What do they call you when you report? You report to someone don’t you?” She spat out, struggling against his hold. He only held her tighter, making her fight even harder.
After a few embarrassing moments of the struggle, Major tossed her to the bed and covered her body with his, lifting her arms above her head and restraining her that way.
“Stop it,” he chastised softly. “You’ll hurt yourself instead of me.” When Rebecca froze beneath him her breasts rose and fell rapidly with exertion. He was a damn tank. “If you want to wail on me, that’s fine. But don’t startle me like that.”
Rebecca stared up at him incredulously. “I can smack you as long as I don’t startle you? Seriously? You expect me to warn you before I attack you so you don’t stop me?” She snorted, but it turned into a sob. She bit back the tears. Rebecca had no idea what to do with a man like this. Even the SEALs she’d gotten to know weren’t so…extreme. Major was broken, in a different way than she was, but broken just the same. He was a kindred spirit and he appealed to Rebecca in every way, his dark soul calling to hers. But he was deadlier than any person she’d ever met. And he would leave. Major would always leave and it would eventually break her heart. He was apologizing for not letting her hit him, and it was too much. The previous night, the headache, his presence—all came crashing down on her and Rebecca released another sob before the flood of tears came.
“Please don’t do that.” Major looked stricken and released her hands immediately. He stood and pulled her in front of him until she was standing in the warm circle of his arms. “Go ahead and hit me. I won’t stop you this time. I promise. Come on,” he urged when she just stood there. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Dance With Me Page 9