Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  “What do I do now?” She looked at the two women.

  “I’m all for you pulling his ears off,” Sienna said.

  “Nathan left you, Sabella,” Kira told her gently. “Do you think he would berate you?”

  Sabella was quiet for long moments before she whispered, “I promised him forever.”

  “Forever with him. Is he here now?” Kira pointed out gently. “You don’t have to give Noah forever, Bella. Give him a night. Get over the sex and take your life back.”

  “I’m not cheating,” Sabella said, her gaze meeting Kira’s. Something inside her loosened. Something fell into place, but she was just too damned tipsy to realize what it was. “Am I?”

  “Oh dear, trust me.” Kira smiled back at her. “The last thing you’re doing is cheating. You can take that one to the bank.”

  Glasses clinked, refilled, and the three women sat back and proceeded to get outrageously tipsy. Well, Sabella thought several hours later as Ian walked in and stared at them in shock, maybe they were a little bit drunk.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Oh hell!” Rory groaned as he hung the phone up then covered his face with his hands.

  Noah turned from where he was watching the driveway through the windows of the office and glanced at his brother with a frown.

  “What?”

  Rory had that look. One of trepidation. Warning. Male amusement.

  “Belle’s drunk.”

  Noah froze. There it went. His balls drew up in fear. Pure, unadulterated male fear. Because Sabella did not pull her punches when she was drunk.

  “Tell me she’s not at Sienna Grayson’s?”

  “That was Ian Richards. She’s at his house.” Rory sighed. “The sheriff is there to pick up Sienna. He’s threatening to lock Belle, his wife, and Ian Richards’s wife up for the night if I don’t come get her. Evidently, they’re trash-talking men in general and having a hell of a lot of fun doing it. I think I heard something about a sexual crisis in the background, and Ian is cracking the hell up with laughter.”

  Yeah, that was fear pinching his balls.

  “Call him back,” Noah breathed out roughly as he grabbed his jacket from the wall peg and grabbed the keys to Rory’s truck from his desk. “Tell him we’re coming after her.”

  The garage was already closed and everything locked up for the night. They had just been waiting for Sabella to return.

  “Should I wish you luck or order roses for your new gravesite?”

  “Just call Ian and tell him we’re coming,” he growled and headed out the door. “I’ll pull the truck around and pick you up.”

  He should have known when he saw her drive off. Hell, he had known. A part of him was well aware that his wife was pissed off and would head to Sienna’s. He hadn’t expected Kira. He knew they’d connected as friends, but not to this extent. There would be hell to pay now, and not just from Sabella, but Kira as well.

  He and Rory arrived at the house, pulling in behind Kira’s small sports car, and Noah shook his head. He knew Kira. She was a troublemaker. A former Homeland Security agent with too damned much time on her hands now. She had driven Ian insane until he married her in what Nathan swore was an attempt at some peace.

  The door opened as he neared it, and Rick Grayson stared at him with narrow-eyed displeasure from across the room as Ian stepped back and allowed Noah to enter the house. Amusement glittered in his commander’s eyes and tugged at his lips. Damn. Noah didn’t need this.

  And there they were. Sabella was sprawled out on one end of the couch, Sienna on the other. Kira was reclining on the love seat. They all stared at him.

  “Oh Sabella,” Kira drawled mockingly. “I disagree, he looks like a very shady character.” She looked at Sienna. “Has your husband run his background check yet? I bet he has a record.”

  “Twice. He’s clean,” Sienna announced blithely, peeking over the back of the couch as Noah winced. “You know who he reminds me of?”

  “A thief?” Kira answered quickly.

  “No.” Sienna frowned. “You know …”

  “Do you think his ears are big enough to pull?” Sabella peeked over the back of the couch, narrowed her eyes, and stared at his ears consideringly.

  The three women erupted into gales of laughter.

  “I should arrest you,” Rick muttered to Noah. “This has to be your fault.”

  Noah grunted, strode across the room, and picked his wife up gently from the couch.

  She stared at him in surprise, but she didn’t fight him.

  “I can walk,” she assured him.

  “Of course you can.” He nodded seriously. “But Rory has a date, so we’re in a hurry.”

  She thought that was funny. But as she laughed she laid her head against his chest and her little hand rested over his heart.

  “Night, Rick. Ian. I’ve had fun,” she called out as they passed the two men.

  “Stay out of trouble, Belle,” Rick grunted before shaking his head as Noah passed.

  “Everyone thinks you’re very sexy, you know?” Sabella piped up as he carried her to the truck.

  “Really?” He glanced down at her. She was watching him, drowsy, a little too tipsy.

  “Really.” She sighed. “Do you know Gaelic, Noah?” she suddenly asked.

  His heart clenched. It actually hurt, as though spikes of steel had been dug into it.

  “Should I?” he asked her, moving to Rory’s truck as his brother headed around to Sabella’s car. Thankfully, there had been a spare key to the car at the garage.

  “Maybe not,” she mumbled as he opened the truck door and slid her across the seat before getting into the truck, sliding it into gear, and heading home.

  She was silent then, staring out the window as though she were interested in what they passed. As he pulled into her driveway, she stared at the house silently, her expression somber.

  “Sometimes, I’m very lonely here,” she suddenly said as he cut the motor and clenched the steering wheel furiously.

  “You didn’t have to stay alone,” he told her hoarsely.

  “Yeah, that’s what Kira and Sienna seem to think.” She sighed deeply, still staring at the house, as Noah winced.

  “Why did you stay after he died?” he asked.

  She didn’t turn to look at him, just stared at her home, the grief on her face twisting his soul, wringing it dry.

  Finally, she said, “It’s home.”

  Shaking his head, he got out of the truck and strode to the door she was pushing open. He lifted her from the truck, steadied her, and helped her to the house.

  “You can’t come in,” she told him.

  “Sabella, this is the wrong damned time to push me.” He’d just about had enough. He’d had enough of the hollow grief raging inside him, and the hunger ripping him apart.

  “I’m drunk. Are you going to take advantage of me?” she asked him blithely as he unlocked the door and led her inside.

  “Not tonight. Maybe I’ll take advantage of you tomorrow night instead.”

  He caught the little pout on her lips as she gave him a glare.

  “You’re being very mean to me, Nathan. I think you should know that.”

  He almost flinched as she used his real name in her tipsy state. She couldn’t know what she was saying. A slip of the tongue, he reminded himself. A ragged, pain-filled groan nearly tore from his chest though. She said it so easily as she stumbled against him. Just as she would have years before when she was put out with him. As though she knew, or sensed the truth.

  He lifted her into his arms again and carried her up the stairs, but his throat was tight with emotion. The hollow emptiness that had filled him for so long now seemed to overflow with feelings, with emotions. With grief.

  He laid her in their bed, watching as her head settled on the pillow, her lashes fluttering drowsily.

  He untied her boots and set them carefully by the bed. He pulled her jeans from her, and because he knew she hated sleeping in a b
ra, he unhooked it and removed it from beneath her shirt.

  She stared up at him. “You can take advantage of me. I promise not to get mad.”

  “Later,” he promised her as he sat on the bed beside her.

  “Would you hold me?”

  Hold her? When everything inside him was screaming for so much more. But it wasn’t so little to give her, when he had taken so much from her.

  He pulled his boots off, moved to his side of the bed, and lay down beside her before pulling her into his arms.

  “I have nightmares,” she whispered as he tucked her against his chest.

  “I know, baby.” He undid her braid, worked her hair loose.

  “I see blood,” she told him. “My hands are covered in blood. And you’re crouched in front of me. You are. Then Nathan is. Then you. Then Nathan is drifting away and you’re still there. And suddenly I’m you, and the pain is so bad. And all I feel is you thinking about me. Begging me to save you as I dance in front of you and tempt you to take me. But it’s not me. And it’s so frightening, Noah.”

  He flinched. God, she had seen into that hell. The temptation Fuentes had brought him in the women that so resembled Sabella. He was pumped on the whore’s dust, so aroused it was a clawing pain, but knowing. Knowing the women brought to him weren’t his wife.

  “I didn’t save him,” she murmured as she slipped off to sleep. “He begged me to save him, and I couldn’t.” Her voice thickened with tears and with sleep. “I couldn’t save him.”

  She finally relaxed against him as he bent his head over hers and held her tight.

  “You saved him,” he whispered into her hair. She had no idea how she had saved him. The man he had been didn’t exist any longer, but the man that loved Sabella, that ached for her, that had endured hell because of his vows to her, had survived.

  He rocked her when she whimpered in her sleep, comforted her, and held her. He stared into the darkness and wished he could cry himself. Because she had suffered when he had thought she could go on. Because Grandpop had been right. He had loved her until at times he swore he could feel the beat of her heart next to his own. But he knew Grandpop had been right about the eyes. Because in the memories of the hellish existence he had lived, he had remembered seeing images that weren’t there. He would be in his bedroom, staring into the mirror, staring at Sabella. And it seemed his Sabella had stared through his eyes as well. Straight into hell.

  His arms tensed, tightened around her. He tilted his head back and forced himself to breathe through the pain. To hold back the agony welling inside him.

  “Sabella.” He whispered her name, breathed her in.

  She shifted against him. Sleeping, sensual, tempting. “I missed you, Irish.”

  And he ignored the single tear that fell from the corner of his eye. The pain. The loss. She knew. Deep inside where she refused to see who he was, she knew, because that bond was still there, those vows were still there. By staying away from her, he had left her drifting between reality and hell. Still bound to him, yet alone, facing the nightmares without him by her side. Enduring, even when she had glimpsed the horror he had lived through.

  And he had thought his wife wasn’t strong enough to face what had happened to him. Hell, he had a feeling his wife was far stronger than anyone knew. Perhaps, in her heart, in her soul, she was stronger even than him.

  She was warm. Sabella shifted in the bed, almost moaning at the sense of warmth that surrounded her. Noah’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her close, his head tucked above hers just like Nathan used to do. It must be a male thing, she decided. Nathan had been her only lover, so of course she would notice it. One leg was thrown over hers, her head rested on his arm, the other arm was lying over her waist, holding her to his chest.

  She couldn’t escape him if she wanted to. And she so didn’t want to. She wanted to luxuriate in this warmth. Hold on to it. But something prodded at her mind, nipped at her, wanting her to awaken.

  She shifted against him, trying to escape it. She wanted to stay here, right here. No matter how much she ached for other things, she didn’t want to lose this feeling of incredible peace.

  Then his hand shifted, moved beneath the hem of the shirt she still wore and pressed against her stomach. Sabella stretched, moved, pressing more firmly against the warm male body behind her, her breathing hitching, half sob, half moan as she realized it wasn’t a dream.

  She was weak. She needed.

  What had Kira said, get rid of the sexual crisis and everything else would clear itself up? It made sense to her. Right now, enfolded in his embrace, as his hand moved to the band of her panties, it made sense.

  “Stay still.” Hoarse, guttural, his voice rumbled in her ear as she tucked her butt closer to the iron-hard length of the heated cock pressing against her.

  He was naked. Sometime during the night he had undressed and gotten under the blankets with her. She shivered at the thought. She could feel the naked length of his body behind her, powerful and hard.

  Her lashes lifted. It was still dark. Dawn hadn’t yet begun to lighten the room and she didn’t have to face what was and what wasn’t. All she had to do was feel.

  Her head turned until her lips could press against his neck beneath his chin. The abrasion of his beard was erotic, sexy. She hadn’t known a beard could feel so sexy.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  He stilled behind her. His hand pressed against her stomach, moved to her hip, and tightened to hold her still.

  “Don’t tempt me, Sabella.” His voice whispered through the darkness, wrapping around her as she let it stroke her senses.

  “I want you.” She hadn’t wanted since her husband’s death. She wanted now. She wanted with a strength she knew she would have to face later, but not right now. Right now, she would experience it, revel in the pleasure of it.

  She felt the tension that whipped around them, that filled the air and heated the room.

  “Do you want me?” he growled then, turning her, the shadow of his broad shoulders suddenly filling her vision as he leaned over her. “Is it me you want, Sabella? Or your husband?”

  Her hands lifted to his shoulders, smoothed over them. Her nails bit into his flesh, tested his muscle.

  “Does it matter?” she asked him, feeling the clench of both needs suddenly filling her. She hated that confusion, that sense of being so off balance she didn’t know who or what she was reaching for. “Does it matter to you?”

  He was silent for so long that she wondered if he would answer her at all.

  “It doesn’t matter to me.” A snarl filled his voice. “I would take you, Sabella, and when you cried out my name I wouldn’t give a damn who you were crying out for. But if you expect me to take you as your husband would have, you’re in for a sad surprise.”

  “You don’t know how my husband took me,” she told him then, lifted her head and let her tongue stroke over his chest, rubbed her face against the crinkle of chest hairs. “Take me, Noah, however you want to.”

  He wanted to take her hard and rough. She could feel that. She had known it, even before now. He wouldn’t be an easy lover, but it wasn’t an easy lover she wanted. She wanted to still that dark, furious need that had built up in her over the past years. A product of the dark, sexual dreams that mixed with nightmares and tormented her, on nights like this. Dark and indolent with the need for sex. For touch.

  She was tired of fighting. She didn’t want to fight him. She hadn’t wanted to fight from the first day he had walked into the garage and tempted her with his wild arrogance. Her body ached for this touch. Her heart, so torn, so ragged now, wanted ease. Just a little bit of ease. Just for the time it would take to still the arousal burning through her.

  “Sabella.” He whispered her name as his forehead lowered to hers. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

  “I want you.”

  She had to be asleep. Here, in Nathan’s bed, in the bed where he had taken her as his wife, and sh
e wanted another man.

  “Make it go away, Noah,” she whispered desperately. “Please, make it go away. The nightmares. The need. Stop torturing me. Take me or get the hell out …”

  His lips took hers. They slanted over hers, and she was waiting, parted and desperate as she met him with a wild, hungry moan.

  Noah could feel the dark need pressing at the edges of his vision, consuming his senses. He kissed her, pausing only long enough to jerk her T-shirt from over her head and to rip the panties from her body.

  He was torturously hard. His cock was furious, determined, his balls tight with the need for greater release than what he had found in the past with only his hand for ease.

  He was fighting for breath, his hand sliding between her thighs, finding the soft curls there wet, saturated, slick from her need. Slick and hot. Like honey.

  Pressing his fingers closer, sliding between the swollen folds of flesh, he found the entrance to her pussy. It was tight, flexing around the tip of his finger as it had done the night he took her virginity so long ago.

  He pushed her legs apart, lifted himself between them. Foreplay would come later, he promised himself. So many years. Ah God, so long. Nineteen months of that time spent in the horrific grip of a drug so powerful that the need to fuck nearly drove him insane.

  And standing between him and the crazed need had been his wife. Her gray eyes staring at him, stark with longing, her voice whispering in his head, holding him back.

  “Damn you.” He jerked his head back from the kiss, stared down her, barely seeing her face in the darkness that surrounded them. “Do you know how bad I want you?” He clenched his teeth, fought back the words.

  “Then take,” she panted. “Take me, Noah. Take me how you need me.”

  How he needed her.

  He shook his head. He tipped it back on his shoulders and wanted to howl in rage.

  He wanted to love his wife. He wanted to touch and kiss and taste every inch of her body. He shook, shuddered. He pressed the furiously tight head of his cock against her entrance and groaned at the heat, the slick sweet essence of her.

  He pressed forward. Just for a moment, he promised himself. He had waited this long to take her again. He could wait long enough to pleasure her first.