by Lora Leigh
He had to leave her. When it was over, when he’d taken this last taste of sweetness that he would allow himself, then he had to leave. It was the only way to protect her. It was the only way to ensure …
How?
Pushing in to the hilt, he groaned her name. God knew he meant to hold back. He needed to hold back. He needed to be strong enough to leave her, but how the hell was he supposed to do that?
Live without this?
His cock was buried in pure, liquid heat. It clenched around him; tight muscles stroked the sensitive head, tightened around the shaft as her juices dampened his balls.
He wanted to hold inside her forever, to feel nothing but her hot, tight pussy flexing around him. But each subtle stroke pierced his control, frayed it, until he had to move.
He’d go slow, he promised himself.
As he moved back, his teeth clenched at the slow drag of her silken grip against his cock.
He was losing it.
The pleasure was ripping through him. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t hold back.
“Fuck. Baby.” The growl that tore from him came with a hard thrust of his hips, and then it was over.
Pushing inside her, stroking into her, he began throwing them both into the maelstrom of pure hot bliss.
It overtook him. He could feel it overtaking her. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her arms around his neck. With each thrust inside her, she arched upward with her hips, taking him deeper, taking him harder.
He was wild with the need for her. Crazy for her touch.
Nothing had ever hit him so hard or taken him with the power with which she was taking him, accepting him. He’d never known pleasure like he knew with her at the moment he felt her unraveling around him. Her pussy tightened, her juices flowed, and she shuddered in his arms as he felt her coming, felt her losing herself to the pleasure he gave her.
“I love you, Nik. Oh, God, Nik. I love you.”
The pleasure she gave him.
His release tore through him. It ruptured inside him, spurting from his cock in hard, hot jets as he heard himself groan her name. Fought, held back the emotions ripping through him, and swore he had never known anything this powerful, this exquisite, in his life.
He’d never known love, but he knew it now.
Burying his head at her shoulder, he gave in to it, let it tear through him, let it have him.
And he knew without Mikayla there was no love, no laughter, there was no life.
Nik was gone when Mikayla awoke the next morning.
Rising from the bed, she felt her stomach tighten in panic and fear, felt the pain that tore through her.
Surely he wouldn’t leave without telling her goodbye.
“He wouldn’t,” she whispered as she felt tears dampen her eyes.
He wouldn’t just walk away.
Jerking her robe on, she rushed out of her room, to the guest room, threw open the door, and stared at a naked, clearly curious Nik as he turned to her.
He’d showered. There was a towel cinching his hard hips, emphasizing the tight, hard abs of his stomach.
And he was packing his bag.
Mikayla felt her lips tremble and hastily stilled them. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to make him feel guilty because he couldn’t love her.
That wasn’t love, she told herself.
Her eyes turned once again to the leather bag and the clothes stacked beside it as he turned around, the fingers of one hand clenched.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t say goodbye,” she whispered.
His head tilted to the side, a little smile playing about his lips.
“Why would I do that, Mikayla?”
She shook her head, fighting back the tears. “I don’t know.”
She could feel the pain churning in her stomach now, the knowledge that she was losing every dream she had ever had. When he walked out, all the love she had dreamed of having, of feeling, would be gone.
“Mikayla.” She watched as he moved to her, like a predator, like a fierce Viking warrior easing up to her.
She wanted to cry, and she swore to herself she wouldn’t. When he lifted a hand and brushed her hair back, though, it was all she could do to hold the tears back.
“I’m not a mercenary,” he stated.
Mikayla nodded. “I know.”
His lips quirked.
“I’m away a lot. Being with a man like me wouldn’t be easy.”
He was making excuses?
“Please, Nik—”
“You said you loved me again last night, Mikayla,” he said then.
And she had said she wouldn’t ask for promises. But she hadn’t asked for promises; she had only told him how she felt.
What did he expect her to say? That she was sorry? Well, she wasn’t, and she wasn’t about to lie about it.
“So I did.” She was glaring back at him before she realized it. “It’s too late to take it back now, so I guess you’ll just have to live with it.”
“I guess I will.” His hand lifted again, cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips. “Say it again.”
“What?” Confusion rocked her. “Say what?”
“That you love me.”
Was this some new form of emotional torture?
“You know I love you—”
His thumb settled over her lips once more. “Say it the way you said it last night.”
“I love you, Nik.” She couldn’t hold it back. It was the truth. If he needed to hear it before he walked out of her life …
“I love you, Mikayla.”
She couldn’t have heard him right. It wasn’t possible.
“What?” She couldn’t breathe. Had she heard him right? Was she losing her mind?
“Mikayla Martin, I love you,” he whispered as he took her hand and slid slowly, with such male grace, into a perfect kneeling position.
She watched, entranced, uncertain, suddenly so filled with hope… .
“I called your father this morning.” Nik took her hand. “And I asked his permission to marry the most perfect, the most beautiful fairy ever created.” He slid a ring on her finger. “And now, I ask you, Mikayla. Will you marry me?”
Diamonds and emeralds graced a small gold band. It was obviously a much-loved heirloom, old and created with an eye for beauty as well as wealth.
“Nik.” She stared back at him, uncertain, terrified she was only dreaming.
“Marry me, Mikayla,” he said softly. “Don’t make me go out into the cold again. I don’t think I could live like that after knowing your warmth.”
“Yes.” She wasn’t hesitating. If it was a dream, if she was hallucinating, then she wanted it all. “Oh, God, yes.”
The dream was real. The ring on her finger, the man who rose to pull her into his embrace, the kiss that touched her lips.
“Your parents are on their way over,” he groaned against her lips. “Those damned brothers of yours. Something about celebrating.”
She wasn’t hallucinating.
“I love you, Nik,” she whispered against his lips. “Always.”
“Always, little fairy,” he whispered back. “I’ll love you forever.”
EPILOGUE
One year later
The bride wore antique white, and if the smooth silk looked just a little full at the stomach, then no one mentioned it.
The groom wore black, his long blond hair tied back, his expression fierce as he watched his bride walk slowly up the aisle.
He could feel his hands trying not to shake.
If ever she had looked like a fairy, then it was now. Ethereal, petite, and delicate. A dream he had never allowed himself to have until she was forced into his life.
Now, he would die for her. He would kill to keep her.
Her and the child she carried within her.
Their child.
Nik couldn’t believe he had the courage, but his Mikayla was courage itself.
Determination.
Strength.
Love.
She was his soul, and he had no shame admitting it.
He stepped to her, her graceful fingers lying against his arm as he stared down at her.
His perfect, beautiful fairy.
Amethyst eyes stared up at him, sparkling with tears and with joy behind the antique lace of the veil.
It was her dream wedding. She was his dream bride.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together …”
The priest’s words droned on. The vows were in Nik’s soul, tied to hers, wrapping them together with silken, unbreakable bonds.
His bride.
They called him Renegade, but his Mikayla would now call him husband. And to Nik, “husband” was a far better word.
“You may kiss the bride.”
His fingers actually shook as he lifted the veil, curved his arm around her, pulled her to him, and in that kiss they sealed the vows they had made a year before.
To love forever.
LIVE WIRE
Lora Leigh
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
LIVE WIRE
Copyright © 2011 by Lora Leigh.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-0-312-94584-8
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / March 2011
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN: 978-1-4299-8535-2
First St. Martin’s Paperbacks eBook Edition: March 2011
In memory of those who can never come home.
The warriors, the men and women whose courage and determination, whose loyalty and dedication to their country demanded the ultimate sacrifice.
My prayers for your loved ones, your wives, parents, children, and friends are whispered nightly. My dream that your sacrifice was not in vain is an ever-present thought.
Your blood was precious, your laughter is missed, and your dreams, though not realized, will never be forgotten.
You are the ultimate heroes, and your precious light will shine forever in the minds, the hearts, and the lives of freedom you have provided for us.
May heaven hold you in its embrace, as we shall always hold you in our hearts.
Lora Leigh
Special thanks
To Lisa Cesa, thanks for all the help and advice. It’s not always easy to find someone willing to give their time and friendship as you have, and it’s greatly appreciated.
Uncle Ronnie and Aunt Sug. I’ve missed you more than you know, and having you in my life once again is a gift I’ll never forget.
And to Bret. You’re growing up too fast, becoming a man too soon. But my pride and joy in you knows no bounds. Thanks for understanding, for supporting, and most of all, for just being you.
PROLOGUE
Elite Operations Base
Alpine, Texas
She was a vision of beauty.
Too fucking young, but her eyes weren’t those of a twenty-four-year-old. They were the eyes of a woman who had seen too much, who had known too much danger, too much pain.
Jordan watched as she went through the strenuous training maneuvers the Elite Operations backup team was putting her through and wondered how the hell he was going to say no to her.
She wasn’t strong enough to match the Elite Operations agents in physical strength or endurance, but she was more than a match for them in speed and ingenuity.
“She has no place to go, Jordan. She’s spent her life running from her father and her brother. She doesn’t have the education or the job skills to step out of this life. This is all she has.” Kira Richards stood beside him, the former CIA asset somber, persuasive, as she attempted to smooth over the anger Jordan knew he wasn’t hiding.
He’d arrived at the training facility to check the status of his nephew, now known as Noah Blake, as well as the other operatives that were part of his Elite Operations command. He hadn’t expected to find this tiny sprite of a woman with masses of red hair, haunted green eyes, and a too sad face sparring with the nephew in question.
“Elite Operations isn’t an orphanage, Kira,” he reminded her, careful to keep his tone cold, emotionless.
He couldn’t show the chink he knew this young woman had put in his defenses the first time he had met her two years before in Aruba during the Diego Fuentes operation. The operation involving Kira’s now husband, Ian, and his father, Diego Fuentes, had been rife with danger. And there the girl had been, desperate to end the life of death and misery her father had been waging to find her for nearly twenty years.
Her eyes had been shattered then, filled with desperation and fear that the plot to bring down the terrorist Sorrel wouldn’t succeed.
But she had been game. She’d thrown everything she had into revealing the identity of the man who had destroyed her mother and who had tried to destroy her.
“Elite Operations isn’t an orphanage, but we owe her,” Kira reminded him forcefully. “You know we do. Besides, she would be perfect in base operations. She knows communications, she knows how to organize things. Give her a chance.”
He glanced at the woman at his side. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Make it happen. That was what she was saying. Just make it happen.
“You’re a contract asset for the Ops, Kira,” he reminded her. “This isn’t your decision to make. Nor is it up to those men out there.” He waved his hand at the training room viewed through the two-way mirror he stood behind.
“The whole team has more or less adopted her, Jordan,” she informed him. “You can’t get out of this. If you don’t take her, then the backup team will.”
He grimaced.
Hell, he had very little control over the Elite backup team. He couldn’t order Reno or Clint to do shit and he knew it. But he owed them, and he knew that as well. Just as he knew that if she were working with them, it would be a damned sight more dangerous than being confined to the Elite Operations base would be.
“She would fit in perfectly as your personal assistant, as well as mine, in communications,” Kira went on to say. “We’ve been in operation long enough that you know we need someone to fill that spot. Give her a chance, that’s all she needs.”
She would be perfect to make him crazy, that was what he knew. The few times he had been in contact with her, his blood pressure had nearly gone through the damned roof, and his cock had nearly burst from his jeans.
The need to fuck her had been so damned overwhelming that for the first time in years Jordan had considered breaking his own rule. Never fuck or become close to his female operatives. He knew better, just as he knew the outcome if the past remained true.
Losing one of them posed the risk of too much distraction. It was a distraction he could ill afford when the lives of the entire team depended on his ability to think straight.
She was eight years younger than he was, she was looking for a life, for a battle to replace the one she had fought for so many years. The battle to bring her terrorist father to justice. But he knew the dangers of not letting her in, the danger to her, and that terrified him.
Sorrel’s allies would find her and exact vengeance for the terrorist and white slaver’s death. The thought of the hell they would put her through before they killed her was enough to give him nightmares.
He knew the risk to himself as well as the team in letting her become involved. She was young, she had no official training, other than what she had received in her desperation to survive over the years. She was an impulsive redhead, and she was weakness personified.
“She’s not Catherine, Jordan. She’s not a field agent, and she has no desire to be one.”
And of course Kira would know exactly why he didn’t want her there.
Jordan turned aw
ay from her. She had known Catherine, though not very well. Hell, they had worked for the same damned agency in the same line of work. Except Catherine hadn’t survived it, because of him. Because he hadn’t been able to protect her and the unborn child she and her husband had dreamed of having. Because she had been a close friend, and when she had placed herself in a situation he hadn’t been prepared for, he’d dropped the ball.
“I never said she was Catherine,” he stated coldly. “I said we’re not an orphanage. Bringing her in would be a risk.”
“But you’ll bring her in,” she demanded, but with just enough respect that he couldn’t deny the request out of pride. She was right, Tehya was a perfect fit for the Elite Ops, but she was a distraction to him. And that made her a danger.
Jordan sighed heavily. The knowledge of the debt he owed Kira, her husband, Ian, and Ian’s SEAL team was never lost on him, either.
Together, they had saved his nephew, dragged him out of hell, and even now they worked to heal the wounds inflicted on Noah’s soul.
Besides that, there was also the fact that they were a working unit now. Elite Operations and its backup team was a cohesive unit, and throwing a wrench in the works over their choice of a base member wasn’t in his best interests.
It was the woman in question, and the risk she posed, not so much to the unit, but to his own self-control. The woman who had haunted him since he’d met her in Aruba two years before.
“Bring her in.” He heard his voice harden and he knew that the fact that he didn’t agree with the choice wouldn’t be lost on Kira.
“That’s all I needed.” Satisfaction filled her voice, and when he turned to look at her, he saw the amusement in her soft gray eyes.
“This is a mistake, Kira,” he informed her, knowing the anger was slipping past his careful control.
She stared back at him, her lips quirking as an unholy gleam of wicked laughter sparked in her gaze. “Why? Because you get hard for her? Think of it this way, Jordan, she’ll add a little spice to your life.” Despite the flippancy in her tone, understanding filled her gaze.
“I don’t need spice in my life.”
“Sometimes, that’s exactly what you need to live again,” she said gently. “You’re like Noah, almost dead inside. Catherine wouldn’t have wanted that for you, and I know her husband, Killian doesn’t. She was your friend, Jordan, not your albatross.”