Big Bad Wolf (COS Commando Book 1)

by Low, Gennita

  Nick didn’t turn around. “Don’t turn the light on,” he said, his fingers continuing their dance on the keyboard. “Come here, babe.”

  It didn’t even surprise her any more, the way he knew she’d awakened. She rose, pushing away the sofa pillow, rubbing sleep from her face, and went to stand behind him. She was right. Nothing on that screen was comprehensible, as rows and rows of what she usually termed computer garbage flashed and disappeared. She wanted to touch him, but didn’t. At the moment, he had become a stranger.

  He clicked the mouse, and after a series of beeps, her usual normal MENU popped back on the screen. Then, he whirled the office chair around to face her.

  “Did you have a good sleep?”

  She wished she could see his face, wondering why he’d turned off the lights. “Yes, I did. Is it very late?”

  “Around midnight.”

  She angled her head. “Not zero hundred hours?” she asked softly. When his hand reached up to touch her, she took a step back from him. “No. You aren’t going to divert me tonight with your evasive tactics, Nick.”

  “I see you’ve been getting information.”

  “Grace unintentionally let me know.”

  His laughter was lightly mocking. “Wrong, sweetheart. Jed’s daughter never slips information unintentionally.”

  Jaymee frowned. “You mean, she wanted me to know?”

  Nick settled back into the chair and sighed. “Grace is her father’s daughter,” he explained. “She likes to test people. She obviously liked you enough to give your unasked questions some answers.”

  “Not all my unasked questions. She wouldn’t tell me what it is you do.” She gestured at her computer. “What it is you were doing just now.”

  In the darkness, his voice was enigmatic, with none of his soft drawl. “Tell me. What is it you think I do—was doing just now?”

  He wasn’t fooling her this time. Glibly, she told him, “Certainly not my taxes. And you’re doing it again, making me go round and round while you sit there all detached. It’s pissing me off big time.”

  There was a smile in his voice. “You haven’t done so badly, Jaymee. In fact, you’re closer to the truth than you think.”

  She didn’t want to guess, didn’t want to be toyed with, any more. Glaring at the dark plains that were his features, she lashed out, “I know what my truth is, but what’s pissing me off is your deliberate ways to avoid telling the truth to me. Oh yes, let’s kiss Jaymee and distract her when she gets too close. Let’s bounce her on the bed if she asks too many questions.” She fought back hot tears. “You used me, Nick. Or Killian, whoever you are. You were playing with my mind all along, knowing my secrets, taking me down this far and no further. Well, no more, damn you! I’m not going to let you push my buttons, you...you....”

  She wanted to call him a hurtful name, but couldn’t even think of any. Her heart ached too much.

  Nick could see light reflecting from the tears in her eyes. His own feelings were a jumble of anger and regret. She was right, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to ease her pain. Even as he wanted to comfort her, the trained part of him was analyzing her and the situation, always in absolute control. How was he to explain he depended on that detachment to survive?

  Her anger was justified, and he couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Yet he couldn’t deny a single one of her accusations. He’d taken and hadn’t given back, and he knew, for her, honesty was the most important thing in her life.

  “Jaymee...” he began.

  “No,” she interrupted. She took a deep breath and said in a clear, even voice, “I won’t be accused of emotional blackmail. You feel sorry for me now, so you’re going to throw out a few crumbs. You can keep your stupid secrets. I told you I grew up among men, and I understand more than you think…Nick. Placate the crying female. Stroke and pet her. Bah!” She made to turn away.

  “Don’t. Don’t turn away from me.”

  If he had shouted back, Jaymee would have walked away, just the same way she always did when her father went into one of his tirades. But Nick’s words were commandingly quiet, threaded with steel. She stood there, watching, as he stood up and loomed over her in the shadows. She could feel tension emanating from him and once again she was frustrated by the darkness in the room.

  He read her mind. “Do you know why I won’t let you turn on the light?” he asked as he drew closer.

  There was something very dangerous about this dark, faceless Nick, and Jaymee backed away, shaking her head. This was silly. She would not be intimidated. Forcing herself to stand still, she waited as he closed the few steps between them, until he was barely a few inches away.

  “Do you feel the difference, Jaymee?” His hands snaked out, gathering her into his arms. His voice was just as dark and dangerous, and she could hear her heart begin to beat faster. “Do you feel this darkness that blankets us? Full of unspoken emotions. Danger, even. And then there’s the sunshine you work in, the hot and bright light in which you happily oversee every detail of your roofs. Up there, the sky’s always open, the breeze hits you in between blasts of heat, and you feel it and you marvel at how a breeze could make you feel so damn great. And if you see any storm clouds coming, you cover up the roof as best you could.” He sighed, and continued, “You can’t see where you’re going in the darkness, Jaymee. You have to rely on instinct, on manipulating every obstacle to your advantage, so you don’t trip over the unexpected. How do I make you understand? Maybe I can show you the difference”

  His hands dropped away from her and this time it was he who stood back. The tension between them beat in unison with her heartbeat. Jaymee was very conscious of his anger, his frustration, his desire for her, as they stood facing each other. She had an odd feeling she’d just unleashed the real Nick Langley.

  *

  Jaymee shivered. She had wanted this, to unmask the mystery of her lover. This dangerous, shadowy figure was still Nick, yet…she sensed she was seeing him for the very first time. Here, in shadows, was the wolf she had always called him, without his disguise. She swallowed. Okay, maybe she should call him Killian right now.

  Standing inches away, he didn’t attempt to touch her, but she was more aware than ever before of the idling power he always held back. Somehow, she’d been aware of this side of him, and had resented his self-control enough to constantly try to uncover his disguise. Now she wasn’t so sure whether that was such a great idea. She realized he was waiting for an answer.

  Slowly, she reached out and placed both hands on his chest. His heart beat strongly under her palms. She slid them upwards, tracing the outline of his broad shoulders, and brought them down his biceps, feeling his unyielding strength as she massaged the muscles of his forearms. Moving closer, she brushed her body against his as she moved her hands back up his thighs, his sides, and pectorals, to link them behind his neck. She massaged his neck lightly and laid her cheek against his chest. Hot and musky. And totally male.

  He may finally have revealed himself, but he was holding on to his control, as was his nature. She understood him better than he thought. He was trying to tell her his world was this maelstrom of darkness, the complete opposite to hers.

  Not so opposite.

  “There are risks in all aspects of life,” she said, carefully keeping her voice steady. It was difficult when she could feel his hunger for her vibrating like a live wire between them. Taking one of his limp hands, she placed it over her heart, and closed her eyes briefly to savor the feel of his touch. “I’ve been avoiding risks for eight years, until you came along. I came out of my own kind of darkness for you, darling.”

  Her words, so softly spoken, acted as a grenade, blasting the granite restrain, and releasing the undercurrent of emotions he was holding in check. Jaymee felt a shot of hot breath. Caught a whiff of his scent. Then his lips were on hers, hard, bruising, possessive, as his tongue pushed inside her mouth. One hand tangled into her hair and pulled, making her gasp, opening her mouth wider for
his taking.

  Deliberately, he straightened up, and with his other hand against the small of her back, he forced her to follow him, until she stood on tiptoes as he continued kissing her, devouring her. She could only cling blindly, as he ignored her lack of height, arching her and pulling on her hair. Her feet dangled helplessly as she held on to her only support, the sheer dominance of his body purposely showing her his power. And it was she who had unleashed it.

  This was the Nick she had often glimpsed when he was into her computer, totally absorbed in some program, absolutely in control of the situation. And there was nothing she could hide from him as she clung to him, depending on him not to let go, not to destroy her.

  Vaguely, she felt him drag her pants down, along with her panties, and her helplessness multiplied a hundred-fold when his hand slid between her legs from behind and touched her. His tongue and fingers moved in rhythm until she went into a frenzy, kicking her pants off in her need to open her legs for more of his touch. Her whimpers against his mouth went unheeded as he continued his slow assault until, lost in the throes of desire, she could no longer hold onto him, her hands losing strength, as he brought her closer to climax.

  It was an utterly devastating sensation, this sense of falling, as she gave up trying to hang on, and her whole weight sagged against his body. His hand was twined tightly in her hair, his other hand deeply imbedded in her. The more she slid down, the deeper she let his fingers inside her.

  She cried out, half in fear of falling and half in shock at the unbearable tension coiling itself tighter and tighter till she thought she would explode. She could weigh ten pounds instead of her hundred and fifteen, the ease with which he held her, stimulating that most sensitive part of her with his fingers. She moaned, garbled protests in between pleas, every one of which was muffled by his mouth, as he walked toward the sofa behind her. Each movement rocked her, slid her up and down his knowing fingers, and she was completely in his power, to do as he pleased.

  When he released her lips, she found herself being lowered into a half-sitting position on the soft seat of the sofa, and she moaned at the loss of the feel of his hard body. She opened her eyes at the sound of his zipper and tried to focus on the dark form before her.

  Hands went under each of her knees, pulling her forward off the sofa until she was almost falling off again, and helplessly opened, she could only hold on to the wedge between the back sofa pillow and the seat as he thrust into her.

  With one stroke, he invaded her soul.

  Each time he pulled out, he took her a little further off the sofa, deliberately creating that defenseless, falling sensation. He let her know she depended on him. That he was the master controller.

  Deeper, harder. And he opened her wider as he pulled out.

  Jaymee couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only feel the raw power of the man taking her. She moaned, the burning need for a release taking hold.

  “Don’t scream, or I’ll stop.” His voice was rough.

  And fingers touched her where they were connected and an incoherent cry rose from her lips, only to become a wail when he did exactly what he warned her he would do.

  He stopped.

  “No…!”

  “You have to be quiet.” He touched her again.

  “Yes,” she moaned back. Anything. Just...don’t...stop.

  “I won’t. No screaming.”

  She didn’t know she’d spoken aloud. She felt her legs being moved even higher, against his shoulders, and he was so deep, every stroke was a statement of possession.

  “I don’t like it when you turn away from me, babe. It makes me want to turn you around and do this. Make you want me as much as I want you.”

  His fingers came back to torture her as she bit down to stop from crying out loud. She was so close.

  “Not yet,” he told her, and took his fingers away.

  There was nothing she could do. She discovered she was utterly powerless. She didn’t want him to stop. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t push him away, in her position. And he was still stroking into her, slow and hard, nudging her inside until she whimpered at every thrust.

  His breathing was faster now, but he was still ruthlessly in control of her body, as he started to play with her eager flesh again, rubbing as he pushed, teasing with the rhythm of his body. She followed his lead, letting him take her closer to release. But he seemed determine to prolong the torture.

  “Please, darling,” she finally pleaded, her voice breathless, after the third time he denied her.

  “Don’t turn away from me again,” he told her, his voice raspy and thick. “You drive me crazy when you do that. Crazy. Crazy.” He leaned forward, going even deeper. She gasped. “Don’t scream, baby.”

  Engulfed in sensations, she couldn’t answer him. The darkness shimmered with flashes of light. A heady heaviness built into a crescendo from her gut, and she tried to control it, fearing he would stop again, just to torture her. If she could just keep it quiet, he wouldn’t know, and she would get what she wanted so desperately. Her head rolled back, her body arched, and she bit down on her lower lip as she tried not to clench down on him, or he would know.

  He seemed to know anyway, slowing down until she felt like dying, each thrust in making her moan, each stroke out a silken torture. She didn’t think she was even breathing any more. A part of her understood he was punishing her for trying to walk away. He was making a statement, showing her no mercy at all this time.

  “Now.” He choked out her name and slammed into her, one hand on her mouth, the other pressing down hard where she was wet and needy.

  Maybe she did scream. She couldn’t tell. Darkness swallowed her as pleasure exploded behind her eyelids, and she plunged into an endless free fall that went on and on. She held on to the only thing that mattered.

  Nick. He was her everything.

  *

  Darling. It was the first time Jaymee had ever called him an endearment. Nick wanted her to say it over and over. She was the sunshine in his shadowy world, and he wanted her, needed to take her, completely. When she’d started to turn away, something inside him snapped, but he’d hung on to his control, trying hard not to pull her into his arms. Until she called him darling. And dared him by touching him.

  He gave in to his desire. He needed to take her the way a male took a mate, staking a claim. He wanted her so desperately, it angered him, because he couldn’t stop this need to have her. She wanted truth. She wanted to know how much he really wanted her. So he took her the way the Programmer was best—with unswerving concentration, obliterating any defenses standimg in the way, and achieving total understanding of every part of the thought process.

  Except Jaymee took him along with her. She wasn’t one of the problems in the programs he tackled, nor was she another assignment whose mind he sought to probe. She gave him everything without his asking, offering him more than he dared take. And the more he possessed her, the more she owned him, because he wanted, needed, her softness.

  This delicious oblivion with a woman was something new. She made him think of no one else. And he dared not take what she was offering, not with this new danger, of close ones being taken out one by one. He trusted her, but he couldn’t put her at risk, as Jed’s daughter was. As his friend, Emma, had been, and for which she’d paid the ultimate price. Not Jaymee. Not ever.

  She stirred under him. “Are you all right?” he asked, unsure whether he had been too rough, knowing very well how much loss of control frightened her. He moved, positioning her more comfortably back onto the sofa.

  Jaymee wrapped her arms around Nick’s waist. “You may do this all night, but you’re still not going to get out of answering my questions.”

  Her voice sounded husky. She felt weak as a newborn baby. What was it about this man made her give in to him like that?

  Nick looked down at her and then swallowed the urge to laugh out loud. His body shook with silent amusement. Did he think he ever could anticipate
her every move? She had managed to provoke him at every turn, surprise him with every twist of this relationship. And her bullish determination only made him want her more. He’d never met a woman so intent on getting what she wanted once she set her mind to it, be it settling a hundred-thousand dollar debt, or getting to the bottom of a mystery. Details, it seemed, were her forte. He almost wished he could get Command to recruit her, so he could get her into his world.

  Tired of his silence and his amusement, Jaymee dug her nails into his back. “Well?”

  “You won’t succeed if you tire a man out with wild sex, sweetheart.”

  He was back, the lazy, indolent Nick with the mocking drawl, propped over her satiated body, looking down at her through the darkness. “Wild sex part of your evasive tactics?” she asked sweetly.

  “Invasive,” he countered with devilish mockery.

  Jaymee was glad he couldn’t see her blush. His invasion had been a thorough victory. “Invade all you want,” she invited, her voice low, “but don’t evade me.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I do work for the government,” he finally admitted.

  Relief flowed through her. He was letting her in, a little. “I gather that.” She kissed his chin, his jawline. “I had visions of CIA and FBI, and all those agencies with acronyms.”

  “It isn’t that simple. We are linked to them, in a way.”

  “You mean, you do their dirty work,” Jaymee said dryly. “I do read the newspapers, you know.”

  He sighed, resigned to the fact it wouldn’t be an easy task to hide anything from her. “That’s all I can tell you,” he told her.

  He hadn’t denied her guess. She smiled in the dark, suddenly liking his inability to see her. This was the way it had to be then. She would take what he would give. “What, no acronym?” she teased. “None of those fancy-schmancy Soldier of Fortune names like Delta Force, Night Hawk, or something macho sounding?”