by Lora Leigh
As his hands loosened around her wrists, one hand cupped her face and his tongue possessed her, licking at hers, and a groan vibrated against her lips. She was starved for him, desperate. The world could explode around them and all that would matter would be his kiss.
Tehya arched against him, her legs parting as his hips lifted, and she moved to press against his thighs as he settled between them. The hard ridge of his cock rode against her sensitive cleft, pressing the seam of her leather pants against her clit and stroking it sensually.
Nine months of restless nights, tortured fantasies, and the memory of a touch she sometimes believed had branded her soul, had all but destroyed her. And now in one brilliant second she could feel the life pouring back into her.
Heat wrapped around her, a wonderful, building warmth that bloomed through her belly and rushed to wrap around her swollen clit.
The instantaneous switch from survival to arousal clashed through her. The abrupt halt of one, the rapid-fire emergence of the other. She was thrown headlong into an inferno of sensation that completely overwhelmed her.
She had dreamed of his touch. She’d awakened some nights crying out for him. Now, Oh God yes, now, just one more time. His body was hard and demanding above her, his cock a thick wedge beneath his pants as he ground his hips between her thighs.
The strokes of the hardened ridge of his shaft over the sensitive bud of her clit sent hunger tearing through her. Her tongue stroked against his, her fingers tightened in his hair to hold him to her, and she prayed it wasn’t a dream. She was desperate to implant each sensation into her memory, into each cell of her body, for the day when it would be gone. To remember even the smallest detail, the slightest touch to help warm her when the nights grew cold.
He wouldn’t stay, even she knew that. For whatever reason, though, he was here now. He was holding her, touching her, kissing her with the same desperate hunger that had plagued her for so many nights.
His hands were tearing at the blouse, popping buttons to drag the material from her pants as she jerked at his, baring tight, hard abs. Hard, heated, his palm flattened against her lower stomach before smoothing up to the front closure of her bra distracting her from the need to explore the flesh she had found beneath his shirt.
The bra clasp released smoothly, the sheer cups falling away from the swollen mounds of her breasts. Tehya’s eyes drifted open as Jordan eased back from the kiss. Harsh, labored, the sound of their breathing filled the room as their gazes met in the darkness. Then his head lowered, lips parting, then covering the hard, needy peak of a swollen breast.
Electricity surged from the contact as he drew the stiff flesh of her nipple into his mouth. Sizzling pleasure attacked her womb, her swollen clit, drawing her hips upward in a tight, involuntary thrust, as she pressed her pussy tighter against the outline of his cock. Pleasure flooded her system, tore through it, burning past her defenses as though they didn’t even exist. Against Jordan, there were no defenses. There was only the searing, addictive pleasure of his kiss, his touch—his possession.
Wicked heat surrounded her nipple as he drew on it, his tongue lashing it with damp fire as he plumped the flesh with his fingers. Sucking with deep pulls of his mouth, each draw sent a rush of electrifying sensation straight to the depths of her cunt.
The feel of him sucking at her, his big body covering her, dominating her, was exquisite. For the first time in nine months, she felt alive. She felt warm and safe. She was a woman again, rather than an automation pushing through the days
“Jordan.” Arching against him, Tehya whispered his name with hungry demand. “Oh, God. Harder. Do it harder.” She needed more. She ached for that fiery edge of pleasure and pain that he had given her before.
Instead he gave a heated kiss against her nipple, his head lifted, the glitter of his blue eyes barely discernible in the darkness of the room.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, demanded. “Damn you Jordan, don’t tease me.”
“Witch,” he growled, his voice dark, thick with arousal, and she felt the short growth of a beard as it raked against the curve of her breast.
Arching her neck, lifting closer to him, her eyes closed as need burned hot and rich inside her. She wanted to touch him. She wanted the feel of him against her, his hard body stroking against her softer one. The heavy heat of his cock filling her.
Memories of the one night she had spent with him tormented her, haunted her. She wanted one more night. Just one more night she told herself. One more memory. Surely then she could find a way to live without him.
As she arched, her hands ran over his back, his shoulders. Moving lower, her fingers went to grip his waist, and one hand gripped his weapon instead.
Tehya froze, as Jordan’s quiet curse seemed to echo through her head. Along with it was the knowledge that it wasn’t this Jordan had come for.
Jordan only wore his weapon when on a mission. He didn’t wear it for looks, it wasn’t a personal accessory. It was for protection only.
She felt him go still against her, his lips pressed to the curve of her breast, before he moved slowly, his head lifting, his eyes glittered down at her through the darkness. She stared back at him in weary resignation. She should have known he wasn’t there for her.
She felt it then, that trembling panic that originated in the pit of her stomach. The restless urge to run, to hide, to change her name, her face, her location. That horrifying knowledge that the instinct warning her of danger wasn’t just paranoia.
“Why are you here?” she whispered, hearing the trembling of her voice and hating it. “I think we both know it wasn’t for me.”
Tehya released the weapon when he rolled away from her and sat up next to her on the floor. He sighed, a sound of weary regret.
“I’m here for you,” he denied.
“But not for the little play date we’re having on the floor?” she bit out with angry sarcasm.
“No,” he finally admitted. “That wasn’t what I was here for.”
Gripping her hand, he pulled her up. “Stay low,” he ordered when she would have gotten to her feet. “Get a bag packed, you’re leaving.”
Jordan couldn’t see her face, her eyes, but he didn’t have to. He could feel her tension settling in the air around him and he thanked God he couldn’t see her face. Sometimes, a man just knew when there were certain emotions he couldn’t face.
Seeing the fear flash in her eyes, or watching her expression change would have brought that familiar tightness to his chest, that regret that he didn’t know what to do with or where it originated from. She’d been hurt too damned much already. Adding to her pain, her fear, felt like a fucking sin.
He didn’t have to see it to feel it. He knew it was there.
“Why do I need a bag?” Vulnerability and fear filled her voice, something he had never heard when she spoke before. As though her time away from the Ops, her time as a regular person had softened her.
He hoped it hadn’t softened her too much to fight to survive.
“Because you’re out of here,” he told her quietly. “It’s time to move you, Tehya.”
“No!”
For the briefest second, Jordan had to admit he was shocked. Damn, it had been more years than he cared to admit since a woman had managed to shock him. Hell, since anyone had managed to shock him. And he had to admit he hadn’t planned for this.
He always had a plan to cover every contingency. Now found himself at a loss.
He was so damned surprise he couldn’t think for the briefest second.
Which explained how she managed to jump to her feet before he could stop her and flip on the low lamp sitting on the table next to the bed. So much for the order to stay low and keep the lights out.
She was naked from the waist up, her breasts swollen and flushed, her nipples hard and such a sweet candy pink his mouth started watering for the taste of them again. Hell, she nearly derailed all thoughts for safety as his cock throbbed hard and painfully.
Slender, small boned, fragile. She looked as delicate as a china doll with all those strawberry and gold curls tumbling down her back and those wide green eyes glaring back at him. The black T-shirt, black leather pants, and four-inch-heeled black leather boots suited her, though if she were trying for a dangerous look, she was failing. She looked like dynamite. A sexual goddess ready to rumble. Or ready for a sexual tumble. She sure as hell didn’t look like a threat to anything but a man’s libido and his piece of mind.
Running his fingers through his hair, he fought to drag his mind away from the scenario where he was fucking the hell out of her, and back to the subject at hand. Keeping her alive until he figured out who had known she was alive and where to find her.
“Someone may be watching you, Tey, that’s why I didn’t want the lights on,” he said, “you’ve had a tail on you for nearly a week now, and they have orders to grab you as soon as possible.”
He watched as she glanced quickly away before her lashes drifted down for a second in weary resignation.
“I had a feeling I was being watched. Stalked.” The acceptance in her voice only shocked him further. Hell, she was setting records tonight.
Surely she hadn’t continued to hang around without contacting him when she knew her identity was compromised? The very thought of it had his entire body tensing in amazed anger.
“You know you’re being watched and you’re still here?” A slow, burning anger began to simmer inside him. It was no longer a suspicion she was being watched, she was confirming it. “You didn’t contact me, or head to one of the safe houses. Why?”
He believed in contingencies in all things. There were six safe houses set up across the nation, and in each of them were hidden weapons, cash, vehicles, and the ability to create new identities until they could contact other members of the team.
But had Tehya taken advantage of them? Had she even tried to cover that very delectable ass of hers?
Her eyes widened in mock surprise. It was a look that made his hands itch to paddle that delectable ass. “Why, Jordan? Because I’m not running anymore. If I had called you or gone to a safe house then I’d be running the rest of my life. I’m tired of it.” The last was said with such exhaustion that Jordan felt his throat tighten. She shook her head then rubbed her hand at the side of her face in a gesture of aching vulnerability. “I’m just tired of it, Jordan. I want it to end, one way or the other.”
His arms seemed to ache with the need to pull her into them then, to comfort her. How the hell was he supposed to handle this? How was he supposed to make sure she was safe when keeping emotions in check was suddenly so much harder to do than it had been before?
Damn her, she made him feel things, made emotion surge through him as he fought to keep his shields intact. She was the only person, man or woman, who could touch his soul.
“Pack a bag.” He wasn’t arguing with her now. Her life was too important to him. He would have to figure the rest out later. “We’ll argue over what you will or won’t do later, once we’ve stashed you somewhere safe. But you are leaving, Tehya. Either willingly or slung over my shoulder, tied and gagged. Make your choice now.”
CHAPTER 2
“Stash me somewhere safe? Don’t I feel important?” she said as she turned away from him, and the lost-sounding loneliness that echoed in her voice had his fingers curling with the need to pull her to him.
For a moment, her delicate face reflected an inner sorrow he didn’t know how to deal with. But as quickly it was gone, and she was turning to face him fully, her expression filled with feminine determination.
“I guess you better tie and gag me then, Jordan, because you’re not stashing me anywhere.”
Son of a bitch, he hadn’t expected such stubbornness from her. He knew she could be stubborn, just not with him.
“Do you know who’s watching you?” he asked. Wondering if she suspected and if it would even make a difference to her, or if she suspected and her stubborness stemmed from that.
Her lips tightened, her dark green eyes shadowed. “I assume it’s one of Sorrel’s associates or one of his former enemies.” She surprised him once again with her answer. “Strange, isn’t it? The bastard’s dead and he’s still haunting me.”
“We didn’t expect this, but we were prepared for it,” he reminded her somberly, hating the dark pain reflected in her eyes now. “That was the reason we staged the deaths, hoping it would put an end to the occasional searches Sorrel’s enemies have arranged over the years. Somehow, someone figured it out and contacted one of Sorrel’s former associates, Ira Arthur with a message that your death was staged. Someone managed to track you down and is in the process of proving your identity as Tehya Fitzhugh. You know how dangerous that could be.”
He’d pulled every trick he knew out of his hat to protect her before she had left Texas. How the hell anyone could have proved Tehya wasn’t dead was beyond him.
She stared back at him, her expression so still and calm that for the first time since he’d met her, he couldn’t gauge her emotions or her thoughts.
“You’re not certain I’ve been found, then?” she asked, her voice guarded.
He gave a hard shake of his head as he stared back at her incredulously. “Tehya, it seems pretty fucking definitive to me, baby.”
“You said they were in the process of proving my identity.” He could see a fragile glimmer of hope in her eyes, and the knowledge that he was going to have to extinguish it made him clench his fists even as a part of him fought to allow her to keep that hope.
“And how long do you think it will take them to prove you’re Sorrel’s daughter once they find you and grab you?” The thought of it was so abhorrent he had to force the words past his lips.
“There’s no verification of who’s searching or why?” she pressed. She lifted her hand to nibble at her thumbnail thoughtfully.
“That rumor was enough,” he stated tightly. “You admit it yourself, Tehya, you know someone’s been following you.”
“I’m not certain,” she said, her hand dropping as she bit her lower lip instead. “None of my security systems are showing anything. I’ve caught no one following or watching me. My damned neck just itches.” Her tone was irritated. “It could just be paranoia and coincidence, too. You know how former operatives can get, Jordan. They see shadows where none exist.”
“It’s enough for me, Tehya.” Her instincts were so finely honed to survival he wouldn’t dare ignore them. “I don’t believe in coincidences, and we both know your instincts are too damned good. And you’re forgetting, sweetheart. I slipped right in tonight.”
“But you know the system.” She waved it away. “I’m just so used to running that I’m paranoid.” She gave her head a hard shake. “I need a drink.”
Stepping in front of her Jordan stopped her. “No system is fool-proof, Tehya. Even yours.”
“Neither are rumors,” she informed. “Now, excuse me, I really need that drink.”
She walked from the bedroom as though they were discussing nothing more than the weather. Leaving Jordan to follow her in frustrated anger.
“Dammit, Tehya, we need to get out of here. I have a team together and a private plane waiting at BMI to get you back to base. I’ve convinced Killian Reece to let you in on the new Ops team—”
“Oh hell, no.” Her head shook emphatically as she stalked away from him. “I’m not going back. And I’m sure as hell not working for Killian Reece.”
Damn her.
Jordan clenched his teeth as he followed her to the living room, watching as she strode to the small wet bar on the far side of the room.
The teakwood bar sat next to French doors that led to a spacious, secluded patio outside.
She poured a drink, no doubt the whisky she preferred, then slapped another glass on the wood
and poured another, for him, he presumed. He was going to need it.
“How did you convince Killian Reece to take me on?” She flashed him an irritated look. “And why would you? He lumps me right in there with Sorrel, and hated me just as much as he hated Sorrel for the death of his wife.”
For a second, Jordan remembered the reason Killian hated Sorrel. Why he refused to trust Tehya. His wife racing through the rain, escaping the warehouse, a young child in her arms as her blond hair flew out behind her. A child Sorrel had had kidnapped with intentions to sell her on the white slavery market.
There had been gunshots, fury, and disbelief as Jordan watched Catherine Rhyan’s eyes widen when she fell, her only thought to protect the child in her arms and the unborn child in her womb even as she bled out before their eyes.
Sorrel had killed her, but it had been Catherine’s decision to enter that warehouse without backup just as it had been Jordan’s responsibility to protect her anyway. Nowhere in there could any blame be attributed to Tehya and Killian fully admitted to that fact.
“Killian doesn’t blame you, Tehya, and he’s as concerned as I am about this situation. You’ll be returning to base.” He had to push the words between his teeth as his irritation threatened to explode into anger.
“I won’t return to base, Jordan.” She gave a brief shake of her head again before downing the whisky without a grimace. “It’s going to end here, one way or the other, if I’m even being watched. Until I know for certain, I’m not going anywhere.” Weariness flashed across her expression. “I’m tired of running.”
It would end in her death. Jordan stared back at her for a moment, at a loss how to handle her.
“How did you find out I was targeted?” she finally asked. “I felt as though someone’s been watching me for weeks. Was that you, or someone else? Because if it was Sorrel’s associates or his enemies, I would think they’d have made a move by now.”
The thought of someone stalking her sent ice chilling through his veins. But she was right. If she had been found, it didn’t make sense they would wait around as they had. “It wasn’t anyone I sent.” Damn, he’d hoped John had gotten the information before she had been found. “One of John’s contacts got in touch with him with the information that there was a rumor Tehya Talamosi wasn’t dead, and certain parties believed she had been found. That contact was aware of your location as well as your new identity.”