by Lora Leigh
But the other Risa, the one who had learned to be cautious all her life, was shaking in her jeans and bare feet. That Risa was certain lightning was going to strike and turn her to ash for wearing such a dress.
In for a penny, in for a pound. She laid the dress aside before going through the other choices. Short skirts and a few corsets to wear over shimmering thin long-sleeved blouses. There were snug blouses, a few more daring dresses. There were shoes to match everything. And she was in so much trouble.
“We’ll be meeting at a small dance club in town with Ian and Kira. We’ll have dinner at the attached restaurant and then drinks in the club,” Micah informed her as she stepped out of the bedroom after putting the clothes away. “We’ll be leaving here about seven.”
“Are Kira and Ian part of this agency you’re involved with?” she asked then. “The federal attorney said you were a private agency. What kind?”
He looked up at her from where he sat on the couch, his laptop opened and resting on the coffee table.
“A private group that sticks its nose in wherever it pleases,” he told her coolly. “We’re not an agency, Risa. We’re a team.”
“Perhaps I’d like to know exactly who my government has placed me in the care of,” she told him, irritation flaring inside her. “Jordan Malone was a SEAL, so were Clint and Ian. Were you?”
“Close,” he grunted. “What I was or what I am doesn’t matter in your protection.”
“Maybe it matters to me.” Maybe she needed to know who or what she was sleeping with every night.
She should have questioned it before; why she hadn’t, she wasn’t certain. She had been curious, but she’d also been overwhelmed by other things. Those other things had exploded in her face and now she was beginning to wonder if this would as well.
“I can understand that it matters to you,” he stated coolly. “Consider us a security firm. A group that goes in where other agencies can’t and gets the job done.”
“Mercenaries?” She couldn’t see him as a mercenary, though he was tough enough, hard enough.
“If you want to think ‘mercenaries,’ then fine.” He closed the laptop and gave her the full effect of his piercing gaze. “Do I seem mercenary to you?”
“You seem too arrogant and superior to me,” she informed him. “That would suit a mercenary, wouldn’t you think?”
“Met many of those, have you?” He rose slowly to his feet and moved toward her.
Risa remained still, despite the urge to retreat, to run from him. This wasn’t the Micah she had gotten to know. This Micah was harder, more determined, and he did nothing to hide the extreme sexuality that moved through him.
She didn’t know whether she should be turned on or scared to death. But her body was taking the decision out of her hands. It was burning for his touch.
“I’ve met you; wouldn’t that be enough?” Her toes curled into the carpet beneath her feet as he stopped. He was almost close enough that the broad T-shirt-covered chest was within a breath of touching the hardened tips of her breasts beneath her own shirt.
His lips quirked. “I can be very mercenary when the situation calls for it,” he assured her, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I can be so mercenary it would curl your little toes.”
Her little toes were already curled. The feel of his fingertips against her cheek as his hand drew back sent a surge of longing racing across her nerve endings. Her nipples peaked, her clit felt swollen, and the sexual hungers he had awakened with her began to pulse through her system.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She had to force herself to remain in place, to ignore the heat flooding her system now.
His lips quirked; his black eyes watched her knowingly. “As well it shouldn’t,” he finally agreed as his fingertips trailed down her neck, creating a flood of sensation over her flesh. “It shouldn’t surprise you, Risa. Just as it shouldn’t surprise you to know that you can try to run all you want, but I’m going to end up fucking you again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not even on a bet.” But she was breathless, almost panting for the feel of him moving inside her again. She could feel the heat flooding her body, dampening her panties.
The quirk of his lips became a full-fledged grin. “You enjoy lying to yourself?”
“Do you enjoy lying to everyone else?” she shot back.
The grin eased away from his face. His expression darkened, became harder, colder. “When I need to.” He finally shrugged, but his fingertips were moving down her arm, gently, erotically. “Have no doubt, Risa, I have no problem lying when I need to.”
And that put her firmly in her place. He wasn’t above lying to her to catch Orion, but how far would the lies go? Her courage seemed to desert her at the prospect of asking that question, because she was afraid he would answer it. And he’d already proved he would lie to her. With his tender touches, his drugging kisses, and his too-experienced body.
“Do you know what I want to do to you?” he asked then, his voice lowering, becoming raspy as it stroked over her senses. “I want to push you against that wall behind you and pound into you while you’re screaming my name. I want to feel your tight pussy convulsing around my cock and hear you screaming my name. And when we’re done there, I’ll slide you to the floor and take you again. You’re within minutes of being fucked, baby. I’d move if I were you.”
She couldn’t move. She stared back at him, almost mesmerized by the black glow of lust that filled his eyes now.
His fingers moved from her arm to her thigh. His palm flattened, his hand angled and began to slide across her jeans-covered thigh, moving to the inside of it.
Her pussy pulsed and hummed. She could feel the flesh there swelling, preparing for his touch.
He was within an inch of the humid flesh when his cell phone rang, causing Risa to jerk in surprise as Micah’s jaw clenched.
The tips of his fingers were so close. The needs racing through her were so hot.
“Saved by the phone,” he murmured, moving his hand to pull the cell phone from the small holster on his belt. “Go ahead and run, Risa; we can finish this later.”
She was already running as he answered the phone, putting as much distance between them as possible and wondering if she would ever rebuild her defenses and have the control to simply tell him no. Even worse, she wished she wanted to tell him no.
COURAGE, STRENGTH, and sheer tenacity. Micah had seen each of those qualities in Risa that first night when she had sat at the club, battling her fears and the overriding certainty that she would be rejected.
It had taken her six years to get her nerve up to take a lover, but honesty compelled him to admit that she had taken that step far sooner than many women would have. She had the guts to do what she had to do. And she was doing far more than that when she stepped out of her bedroom in the chocolate silk tunic dress that whispered over her curves like a wet dream.
Matching four-inch-heeled pumps encased her small feet and made her legs seem to go on forever. Her skin shimmered with creamy translucence and the mounds of her breasts seemed in imminent danger of pressing out of the snug cups that made up the bodice.
Her long hair fell just below her shoulders, the multi-hued strands framing her delicate face as the subtle covering of shadow over her eyelids gave her a sensual, sleepy appearance.
Plump lips were covered with a hint of bronze lipstick, their natural pout intensified by the shimmering layer of color. It was enough to make a man pant in lust.
Hell, his cock was going to pound right out of his slacks and he swore his heart was going to tear through his chest as it raced in excitement.
She had a power over him that he couldn’t have anticipated.
He watched as she moved across the living room, the little matching purse she carried gripped in her hands. She shoved a key and a small leather wallet into the bag, then turned to him.
The look in her eyes broke his heart. Beneath the glitter
of anger there were shadows of uncertainty. Feminine uncertainty, as though she were unaware of her effect on him.
“Remember that wall sex I mentioned earlier?” He watched her face flush as a hint of heat filled her eyes. “If we don’t leave, you’ll find out exactly what it’s like to grip my hips with those gorgeous legs while I pound into you.”
It was no less than the truth.
She inhaled slowly, deeply, lifting those luscious breasts against the silk as her nipples tightened beneath the material.
“I have a wrap. I forgot it.”
His teeth clenched as she moved quickly back to the bedroom. When she returned, it was with a thin silk wrap that covered her shoulders and breasts.
The whisper of silk was a seductive cadence as she moved past him and waited at the door.
Opening the door, he checked the hallway, aware of the backup weapon he carried at his ankle and the one he wasn’t wearing beneath his jacket. The rest of the team would be more heavily armed, but for Micah, there was only the weapon strapped to his ankle.
Holding his hand out to her, he drew her into the hall, checked each end once again, then moved back as the door to the opposite apartment opened and John moved quickly into Risa’s apartment.
“Have fun, kids,” he murmured as the door closed behind him and the locks snicked into place.
“This is ridiculous,” Risa hissed as Micah placed his hand on her lower back and led her to the elevator.
“No doubt,” he answered just as quietly. “Don’t worry, John doesn’t take up too much space.”
“No, he just cleans out the food in the refrigerator,” she stated. “Doesn’t Jordan feed him?”
“At least once a day,” Micah grunted as he shifted until Risa was protected on the far side of the elevator as the doors slid open.
“Well, hello, gorgeous,” Tehya murmured as she stepped into the hall, her long red-gold hair swishing around her as her green eyes filled with flirtatious humor.
Micah was aware of Risa stiffening beside him. She hadn’t seen Tehya coming and going from the other apartment, and had no idea who she was.
Micah nodded to Tehya, aware that her presence signified the all clear downstairs.
He escorted Risa into the elevator, ignoring her little glare as he pushed the lobby button and stood slightly in front of Risa.
“You work fast,” she drawled behind him, almost causing him to wince.
“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned her quietly. “Your pretty mouth is about to get you in trouble.”
He was about seconds away from spreading those pretty legs and making certain she tasted just as good as he thought she did.
Thankfully, before she could say anything more, the elevator opened, depositing them into the lobby. The doorman, Clive, had a wide smile on his hangdog face as Risa walked toward him.
“Now look how pretty,” he said, his eyes following Risa’s every move. “It’s good to see you out and about after that nasty wreck the other day. I couldn’t believe the news report when I saw it, Miss Clay. There are sure some nasty people in the world.”
“Yes, there are,” she murmured as Clive held the door open. “Thank you, Clive.”
“You’re always welcome, Miss Clay.” There was concern and curiosity in the older man’s face as Micah passed by him.
Clive was the perfect doorman for the upscale apartment, Micah thought as he hid a grin. Cultured, his nose just a little in the air. His bald head and the goatee and mustache gave the perfect impression of superior standing.
The limo was waiting in the drive with Travis at the wheel. The ex–MI6 agent moved quickly to open the back door and closed it firmly after Micah moved into the interior.
“So we have a limo at our disposal now,” Risa muttered. “What does your cover give for employment?”
“Navy SEAL and stock market analyst,” he answered. “That’s the work I do on the computer. It’s actually a hobby of mine.”
A hobby that had paid off in more ways than one. Micah had made some very interesting contacts through the few clients he had. Clients he had courted and now made use of in the interests of the team and the operations they took on.
Her lips pressed together as Travis moved into the driver’s seat and put the vehicle in gear. Micah hit the switch at the side of the door and raised the privacy glass between them as he watched Risa with a knowing quirk to his lips.
The angrier he made her, the braver she seemed to get. It was a side of Risa he was certain he wouldn’t have become acquainted with if he hadn’t attempted to have her moved. He’d hurt her, and he regretted that. But he had also learned that she had triggers that could draw her past the fears and uncertainties he knew filled her. Anger was one of the triggers; arousal was another. Confrontation had an impact as well.
He’d tried to handle her with kid gloves, tried to treat her gently, but he was learning there was much more to Risa than he had ever imagined when he challenged her.
He wondered how much further she could be pushed before they reached the club.
“Come here.” He lowered his voice, let it rasp along his throat, and wanted to crow at the slight tremor that raced over her as she stared back at him in surprise and anger.
“You must be joking.” The haughty tone almost had him grinning. Damn, she made him hot when she looked down her nose at him.
“Actually, I’m not.” He hardened his voice commandingly. “Come over here.” He patted his lap.
And she laughed. The sound was filled with bitterness. “Not on your life, Micah.”
Before she could evade him, he reached across the small space between the seats, gripped her wrists, and pulled her quickly to his lap.
Before she could fight, he did what he’d been dying to do since the night before. His head lowered and he caught her lips in a heated, lust-filled kiss.
His tongue parted her lips and the sweet taste of her hit his senses like wildfire. He’d waited until now to taste her. It was the only way to hold on to his self-control, the knowledge that he had a limited time to touch her, taste her, before they’d be interrupted.
He held her to him, one arm around her back, the other over her hips. His hand clasped her thigh beneath the hem of the short dress.
Her struggles diminished, not that she had seriously fought to be free. Her lips moved beneath his, and a female cry of need tore past her hungry lips as he turned and bore her to her back beneath him.
She tasted like summer and sweet sunshine. Her arms twined around his neck and her thighs parted at the urging of his hand between her thighs.
And he was right. She was wet. So damned wet the silk panel of her panties was heated and damp against his fingertips. Her pussy was juicing, and for one insane moment Micah had to struggle against the need to tear the thin covering from her and plunge inside her.
Instead, his fingers pushed beneath the material, found her silken slick folds and the saturated flesh beyond. Heated syrup met the two fingers that eased slowly inside her entrance. She was snug, fist tight, and so hot as she gripped him that he wanted to shout in triumph.
Her hips arched to him as he kept her lips busy beneath his. Her legs fell farther apart, one foot resting on the floor as she arched and pushed his fingers deeper inside her.
His thumb found her swollen clit and rubbed against it with a subtle rocking motion that had wild cries echoing in her throat.
His lips slanted over hers to kiss her deeper, to draw her as deep into the morass of sensations as he was being drawn. There was nothing as sweet, as hot, as Risa. She claimed a part of his soul with her innocent hunger and wild cries, and he prayed she never realized it.
Maintaining his distance was practically impossible when she wasn’t in his arms. When he held her this close, felt the luscious heat of her body wrapped around his fingers, then all chance of distance disintegrated. She was heated honey, pure sensual female, and she was eroding his control into the dust.
She was a weaknes
s, he knew. A weakness he could ill afford, and yet one he couldn’t deny.
Lifting his head, he thrust his fingers deeper into the convulsive grip of her pussy and waited until her eyes fluttered open before he spoke.
Holding her, possessing her, he stared down at her with all the hunger, all the dominant needs, he could feel rising inside him.
“This is mine.” His fingers owned her pussy now. “You’re mine. For as long as I sleep in your bed and live at your side, this sweet, luscious body belongs to me, Risa. Don’t attempt to deny it, because we both know it would be a lie.”
Panting, her eyes darker, her face flushed, she tightened her muscles around his fingers and narrowed her eyes back at him.
“Bet me.”
CHAPTER 17
RISA FELT THE eyes on her when she entered the restaurant Micah had chosen for his little night out. It was one of the most exclusive in the city. The food was excellent, the service beyond compare, and it seemed everyone she knew in Atlanta was there that night.
Before her mother’s death, Risa had lived in Atlanta with her parents. It was only after her tenth birthday that Jansen had moved them to Virginia, then to Washington, D.C. It was only after her mother’s death that Risa’s life had seemed to turn into a farce compared to her life before.
Suddenly Jansen had become increasingly critical of her looks. Risa had retreated into a shell, spent more and time in her room or on the grounds of the small estate he had bought. Nothing she had done had pleased him.
The past six years, since her return to be closer to her grandmother and to put the past behind her, Risa had stayed well clear of the restaurants that she knew were frequented by those who had known her and Jansen.
Atlanta wasn’t far enough away to escape the crowd Jansen and Elaine had been a part of, though. And their reactions to Risa varied.
She heard the whispers as she moved through the restaurant, her head held high when all she wanted to do was run and escape the furtive, pitying looks and gossipmongering.