Command Performance

by Sara Jane Stone

  His team. Hell, if he didn’t love the sound of that. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Will do.”

  Hunter slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at the computer. The lieutenant hadn’t said a word about her blog. He wasn’t disobeying his orders by leaving it alone. But her manuscript was another story.

  He had a USB drive in his pocket and her password. He could download her notes and latest draft, read it tonight and be home running his team early next week after the other interviews were complete.

  And hope she never found out he’d gone behind her back.

  Hunter pushed back from the desk, leaving her computer untouched. He’d find another way to gain access—one that didn’t violate her trust.

  He glanced at the study door. How safe she felt with him didn’t matter much if she didn’t come home before dawn. The image of Maggie dressed up in her Saturday-night clothes, approaching another man and uttering those words...

  I want an amazing orgasm. Actually, scratch that. I want more than one.

  No, he’d caught a glimpse of her before she’d driven away to meet Olivia. Gray sweatshirt, old jeans and sneakers—she hadn’t looked like a woman hunting for a one-night stand. But a few days under Little Miss Maggie’s spell and Hunter knew she could have men falling at her feet with one look from those blue eyes. A gray sweatshirt couldn’t hide the full curve of her breasts. She could wear a grain sack and a man would still want to reach out and touch.

  Click.

  He snapped to attention. Someone had just walked into the house. Quickly and silently, he stood and made his way to the study door. He pressed his ear to the wood. In the hall, he heard footsteps followed by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open.

  “Hunter?” Maggie called.

  He glanced at the digital clock on her desk. Nine o’clock. She’d come home early. He had to get out of here. His training kicked in, and without making a sound, he slipped into the hall just as he would an enemy camp.

  When Maggie pushed through the swinging door, barreling into him, Hunter felt a pang of guilt for what he’d done. He hadn’t touched her computer. This time. Still, he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. But the feel of Maggie in his arms went straight to his groin and the guilt faded into the background. Her chest pressed against him. He raised his hands to her arms, half expecting her to jump away from him if he didn’t grab onto her. She didn’t move. She just stood there, looking up at him, her eyes wide. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and slid over her pink lips.

  Nope, that definitely wasn’t guilt he was feeling now. It was pure lust.

  His gaze slid down from her mouth to the insanely large purse hanging from her shoulder. Did she have condoms in there? He didn’t see a box peeking out. But—

  Beige bra strap. He blinked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the indisputable evidence that Little Miss Maggie had abandoned her underwear.

  Jealousy, the kind usually reserved for people in committed relationships, pounded through his veins. He released his hold on her. She wasn’t his. He had no right to feel possessive of her. None. But hell, he wanted to hit something. It killed him not knowing why she’d taken off her bra.

  He looked to her feet. No flip-flops. Maybe she hadn’t taken the time to remove her shoes. The image of Maggie pressed up against the wall of a dirty bar flew through his mind. His hands fisted at his sides. She might not be his, but he still wanted to pound the living hell out of anyone who’d dared to touch her.

  “There you are.” She offered him a shy, yet sultry smile. This was his Saturday-night Maggie. Except her breath smelled heavily of tequila.

  Hunter unclenched his jaw. “Have fun?”

  “Not yet.”

  What the—

  The need to hit something faded and his brain kicked into gear. Maggie was here. Braless. And ready for fun. Gold star for the Ranger, who’d used his think first, act second training to put two and two together. Miss Maggie had stripped off her underwear for him. Too bad she’d chosen tonight, right after he’d fought a moral battle over whether or not to break into her computer.

  Hunter took a step back, the realization hitting him hard like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t do this. Not here in the hall. Not tonight.

  This wasn’t just another fling. He cared about Maggie. He couldn’t afford a committed relationship, but she deserved better than a man who’d spent the evening debating whether to invade her privacy. She ought to be wined and dined. She deserved honesty. And for what he had in mind for her, she deserved a bed.

  Maggie stepped closer. Too close. He moved away, backing into the wall.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Maggie, you’ve been drinking and we shouldn’t do this. Not tonight.” He needed to talk to her first, when she was sober. He had to find a way to follow his orders, get his promotion and keep his sister in rehab without going behind Maggie’s back.

  “Shh.” She pressed her right index finger against his lips. His mouth begged to lick and kiss it. She ran her left hand up his neck into his hair. One step closer and—

  Oh, hell.

  Maggie pinned him to the wall, her chest pressed up against his. Unable to stop himself, he glanced down. Inside her gray sweatshirt, he could see the tops of her round braless breasts rising above her white tank top. His jeans went from tight to unbearable. Hunter closed his eyes and groaned.

  “Hunter?”

  He felt the word against his lips as she drew his head down, her fingers firmly laced in his hair. God help him, he let her. He prided himself on his mental ability to endure. Hell, he’d been trained to go without food and sleep while on missions. But go without Maggie now?

  Her lips touched his. Gently. Not a real kiss. Not yet. He could still step away. But then her tongue licked across his closed mouth, asking, then demanding entrance, and desire squashed his self-control like a bug.

  He kissed her back, opening his mouth against hers. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer to him, trapping her against him. His erection pressed against her stomach, threatening to explode just from the tequila-filled taste of her.

  She’d come home to him. The first woman in as long as he could remember whom he wanted to wake up next to in the morning had run home to him.

  And nearly caught him sitting at her desk, his hands on her computer.

  His fingers froze on her back and his lips stopped moving. Ignoring the throbbing in his groin, he grasped for her waist and gently pushed her away.

  “Hunter?”

  “We can’t do this,” he repeated.

  She pressed her palms against his chest. “Why not? No one has to know. Not your colonel, not my editor. We’re just two people venting a little sexual frustration.”

  Her devilish hands ran up over his collarbone to his shoulders. Her fingers kneaded his tense muscles, a powerful reminder of everything she’d offered him in his hotel room.

  “I know you want me. You said so yourself.” He heard her voice over the roaring pleasure coursing through his body.

  “I do, Maggie. But not like this. You’re drunk,” he managed to say. If he had any hope of getting away, he had to leave now. He was a man. He could only resist so much.

  “Maybe a little,” she said.

  He had to step away. Hunter closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t look at the soft curls falling from her bun, or her intent blue eyes. Maybe if he didn’t steal another glance down her sweatshirt, he could escape. His honor demanded it. He could not have the kind of hold-nothing-back wild ride they both craved until he deserved her trust.

  Mentally preparing to make his move, he tightened his grip on her waist, willing his arms to set her aside. But as his fingers pressed into her clothes, her hands fell away from his shoulders and she stepped back.

  His eyes flew open.

  “I want you.” She stepped out of her shoes and kicked them aside. “Now.”

  Those four little words nearly undid his resolve. She pulled h
er sweatshirt up over her head. Her pebbled nipples strained at the thin white tank top.

  “I want you,” she repeated. “Fast and hard.”

  Her tank top followed her sweatshirt to the ground and he was a goner. Little Miss Maggie had won. Knowing he’d probably hate himself in the morning, he reached out and touched her breast.

  * * *

  MAGGIE MOANED, LEANING into his touch. She’d won. He’d given in to the powerful attraction between them. It probably helped that she’d removed her shirt.

  Hunter’s fingers traced small circles around her nipples, sending ripples of bliss through her body. She’d go crazy if she didn’t kiss him soon. Maggie drew his mouth down to hers, but his free hand captured her arm, gently returning it to her side.

  “No,” he said. “Let me take control. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. She heard the hard edge in his voice, but ignored it. This—his fingers teasing her breast—felt too heavenly to think about anything else but the sensations on her skin and the ache building between her thighs. “Oh, God, yes.”

  She heard him grunt as he pushed her jeans over her hips one-handed. His other hand teased her to the point where she wondered if she might have an orgasm before he removed her underwear.

  “Close your eyes,” he demanded.

  She obeyed.

  His hand gave one final push and her old, worn jeans slid down her legs to her ankles, exposing her plain beige and very damp bikini briefs. Damp? Make that soaked. Knowing he was looking at her while she stood nearly naked in front of him with her eyes closed turned her on more than she could have imagined.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Her brow furrowed. With her jeans around her ankles, she could barely move. “How?”

  “As far as you can.”

  Maggie stepped as wide as her jeans would allow. As if rewarding her for following his orders, he ran his hand down her belly, gliding his fingers under the elastic band of her underwear, and she understood. He’d positioned her just wide enough to explore and touch her, but if she tried to move away, she’d become tangled in her jeans and fall. She was trapped, his to do with as he pleased.

  She gasped. The thought of being completely under his control sent spasms rushing through her body. She’d never been this turned on. Ever. Yet she wasn’t afraid. She trusted him to give her what she needed, to fulfill her fantasy.

  His fingers ran back and forth over her most sensitive part, not teasing, but driving her toward completion. She was close. So close. On the verge of an Orgasm—capital O. His breath teased her neck and the muscles between her legs clenched. Keeping one hand between her legs and the other on her breast, he gently suckled the side of her neck.

  It was too much. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Pleasure radiated from her core until her knees went weak. She leaned into him for support as if she were a rag doll. Her head rested on his shoulder as the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced ebbed and flowed, refusing to fade away altogether.

  When she finally returned to herself—granted, a much happier, sated version—and caught her breath, Maggie reached between them. She ran her hand over his T-shirt until she found the top of his jeans. She tugged at the button until it released, then moved to his zipper. Her fingers brushed his erection through his boxers and she heard him groan. Even through his shorts, he felt hot, hard and ready. She didn’t care if he kept his clothes on and pinned her to the wall. She just wanted him inside her.

  “One down. Are you ready for another?” she asked, echoing his words from last Saturday night.

  He gently released her breast and took hold of her wrist. Carefully, he set her hand away from him. She opened her eyes, lifted her head and looked at him. Did he plan to take charge? No, his tight-lipped expression was far too serious for a man about to have wild sex in a hallway.

  “No, Maggie,” he said. “We shouldn’t. Not like this.”

  “Why not?” Emboldened by the intoxicating mix of alcohol and orgasm, she slipped her hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers until her fingers brushed against the tip of his erection.

  “You deserve more,” he said without conviction.

  “I want this.” She wrapped her hand around him.

  “Tomorrow night, Maggie.” His voice was low and rough. “Tomorrow I’m going to make you lose control. But not now. Not here in the hall after you’ve downed half a bottle of tequila.”

  Her body still basking in the afterglow of the amazing orgasm he’d given her, Maggie watched as he zipped up his pants and walked away. She waited for the oh-God-what-have-I-done feeling to wash over her. After all, she’d let him take control of her body and asked for more. But instead, anticipation flooded her from head to toe. Tomorrow night he was going to make her sexual fantasies come true. And she trusted him to deliver on that promise.

  * * *

  HUNTER STOMPED INTO his room and headed for the shower. Stripping off his shoes, followed by his clothes, he stepped under the blasting water. He could still feel the full weight of Maggie’s breast in his hand. The taste of her skin lingered on his tongue and lips. Her cries as she came echoed in his mind.

  It had taken every ounce of self-control and then some to walk away from her. But she deserved better than a quick, drunken encounter in a hall. That didn’t change the fact he’d rather endure a fifteen-mile march in full gear through a hailstorm than force himself to leave a naked Maggie again. If she came looking for him right now, there was no chance in hell he would send her away. He’d probably pull her into the shower, press her up against the wall and push his way inside of her.

  Groaning, he let his mind run wild with images of Maggie wet and naked, whispering the same words she’d said earlier. I want you. Fast and hard.

  He needed release. His body begged for it and he wouldn’t be able to think clearly until he took the edge off the sexual energy pulsing through him. Wrapping his right hand around himself, he moved up and down his erection. His mind went straight to Maggie, picturing her naked breasts, the curve of her waist, the curls between her legs.

  He increased the pressure, pumping his hand faster and faster. Earlier, in the hall, she had been wet and ready for him, her body eagerly accepting his fingers inside her, her muscles tightening around him. He remembered the way her face had tensed and then relaxed as she’d come hard against his hand, and his body responded, letting go of everything he’d been resisting. Hunter cried out, tossing his head back as he came, allowing the water to run over his face.

  Once he’d caught his breath, he reached for the soap and began to clean himself up. He’d taken care of his immediate need, but that didn’t change the fact that he wanted Maggie. She’d sought him out to fulfill her fantasies and now he wanted to explore some of his own. Nothing too wild or rough, but he still required her faith that he’d never hurt her. Standing under the powerful spray of warm water, he knew exactly what he had to do.

  13

  KNOCK, KNOCK.

  Reaching one hand out from beneath her covers, Maggie felt around on the nightstand for her alarm clock and hit it over and over. The knocking continued. If this was all in her head, it was hands down the worst hangover of her life.

  “Wake up, honey,” a male voice called from the hallway. “You have an interview in an hour.”

  Slowly, she sat up, blinking at the light pouring in through the windows. She’d forgotten to close the curtains before she’d fallen into bed last night, drunk from too much tequila. Or maybe she’d just been in a daze from the best orgasm of her life provided by the man who refused to have sex with her.

  Until tonight. Maggie smiled.

  “Maggie?” Hunter called again. “I said the magic word. You have an interview.”

  “I’m coming.” She moved as quickly as her still-sluggish limbs would allow, shrugging on her robe. The smell of fresh-brewed French roast hit her as soon as she opened the door and her gaze focused on the mug in his hands. “Coffee?”r />
  “I figured you might need a cup after last night.”

  “I always need coffee in the morning.” Grateful, she took the mug and brought it to her lips. He’d added just the right amount of cream. “It’s perfect.” Maggie looked up at his smiling face. “Did you say something about interviews?”

  “I took the liberty of setting up an interview with Riley.”

  “Your teammate who lives around here?”

  “Yes, but he has family visiting so he asked if you could Skype at nine this morning before his mother-in-law arrives.”

  “Sure, Skype works.” She preferred to meet in person, but decided she’d ask for a face-to-face follow-up if she needed to speak with Riley again.

  “I also set up the interviews with the guys at the base for Saturday morning.”

  Maggie felt the sides of her mouth dip into a frown. “You’ve been busy.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep much last night. But I still need to book the flights.”

  “I’ll take care of that.” Common sense told her Hunter was simply doing his job as her liaison, but it felt an awful lot like he wanted to take charge. She’d given him control of her orgasms, not her work.

  “If you think you’ll have time,” Hunter said.

  “I was planning to use the morning to write a rough chapter or two based on yesterday’s interview. I’ll start on that after I talk to your friend. But I think I can spare the time to book plane tickets.”

  Hunter nodded. “Sounds good. I’d like to read what you have so far.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The simple touch left her skin tingling. “If you’re willing to share, of course. I thought it might help if I checked to make sure the details are all there. See if you’re missing any key parts before you meet the rest of the guys.”

  “Sure, that would be great. I can print the pages for you before lunch. While you’re doing that—”

  “You can go on a little shopping trip,” he interrupted.