by Lora Leigh
No condom.
She stilled, trying to breathe, trying not to clench around the brutally hard flesh inside her. She saw his face then. Saw the struggle in his expression, the need, the force of emotion. And suddenly, she didn't care. She had no intentions of letting him go. Ever. Super Glue would have nothing on Emily Stanton when it came to Kell.
"I don't care," she whispered. "I don't care, Kell."
He was staring at where their bodies were interlocked, sweat now beading his face as he swallowed convulsively. His fingers clenched on her hips. The muscles in his thighs tightened and he began to withdraw. Slowly, so slowly.
Emily dragged in a whimpering breath, both at the retreat as well as the sensations. She wouldn't push it. She wouldn't demand. Having Kell's baby would be more joy than she could imagine, but—
A ragged, tortured groan left his throat. A second later, he was buried inside her once more and he didn't stop. His hips moved quickly, hard. Each thrust built in pleasure, the feel of his flesh bare inside hers, the stretching heat, the need building and building as she kept her gaze locked on him.
She had to. If she didn't center herself she would fly away. She would explode into fragments that might never find form again.
She arched in front of him, her fingers digging into the blankets as the thrusts increased. Her ragged cries, his male groans. They blended, forming an erotic, sexual tune that whipped around them in ever-increasing force.
The pleasure rose. It burned. It had her crying out his name, desperate for ease even as she fought to keep her gaze on die mirror, fought to watch his face. His lips.
Lips that were parting as she began to come apart. His teeth were clenched as she began to convulse around him, pleasure fragmenting inside her a second before she saw his
expression twist. Agony and ecstasy. Her name on his lips, and then more.
I love you, Emily. He mouthed the words as his eyes closed and he began to jerk, the feel of his release spurting inside her dragging her from the last mooring that held her to earth.
I love you.
There was no sound to the words. Only his lips moving. Only his eyes closed, his expression absorbed, tight with emotion and a male pleasure too sexy to endure.
Emily heard herself scream his name. She felt the shudders shaking her body as she tried to twist out of his grip to escape the sensations that suddenly built upon themselves. Pleasure upon pleasure, explosion upon explosion, until she collapsed to the bed, exhausted. Drained. And holding her secret close to her heart.
Kell loved her. As surely as she knew she loved him, he loved her. And for some reason, he didn't want her to know. He didn't want to give the words voice, and instead kept them silent as his expression twisted with an inner agony. As he lowered himself beside her, still buried in her, still holding her close, he clasped her in his arms as though he feared she would be torn from them.
"I'm sorry," he whispered at her ear. "I shouldn't have done that."
Emily felt her heart drop to her stomach. That was regret in his voice. Not fear. Heavy, remorseless regret.
"No harm done," she whispered. "It's the wrong time of the month anyway."
What the hell was she supposed to say? Okay, it wasn't a foolproof method, but it was true nonetheless. The time of the month couldn't be safer, and yet the ache in her heart couldn't have gone deeper. Having his baby wouldn't have been a hardship for her. Holding him to her wouldn't have bothered her either.
She felt his hand move over her hair, felt the heavy sigh at her back before he slowly eased from her body. Then he was tucking her beneath the sheets and settling in beside her; the light beside the bed flipped off before his arms were around her again.
And Emily was staring into the dark, blinking back her tears and wondering what the hell had happened.
* * *
Emily was surprised when her father arrived at the house just as they had finished breakfast and were preparing to leave the house.
Ian stepped into the dining room and announced his arrival then stood in the marble foyer as the senator entered surrounded by Reno, Clint, and Macey. His expression was heavy, and the SEALs surrounding him looked—violent.
"What's happened?" She moved toward him, reacting to the fury in his gaze before he caught her in his arms and surrounded her in a hug that reeked of fear.
"Reno?" She heard Kelt's voice behind her, dark, brooding, and prepared.
Emily stared at the SEAL behind her father. Macey. With his ragged haircut, the earring in his ear, faded denim shirt with the arms ripped out, and ragged jeans, he looked more like a biker than a computer expert. He had hams for hands and his broad-shouldered physique, like that of the others, didn't possess an ounce of fat.
A heavy frown creased his face now, rather than the flirty twinkle his eyes usually held. And a frown marred his brow. Something had happened and it wasn't good.
"Dad, what's wrong?" she asked as he finally released her, moving back to breathe out roughly, to stare at her as though he wasn't certain she was really there.
"Get ready to roll," Reno ordered Kell. "You'll proceed to the safe house we've set up for Ms. Stanton and stay in place until further orders."
Emily stared at the hard-eyed SEALs, then at her father.
"Daddy, what's happened?"
"Fuentes's assassin, a man named Rudolph Delgado, arrived via Dulles this morning. Two hours later Macey was contacted by one of his sources that Delgado is here for you. I want you out of here."
He wanted her hiding, he wanted to pull her away, no matter the risks, and force her into hiding for the rest of her life if that was what it took.
"We knew this was coming." She shook her head fiercely. "We've already agreed that I can't run."
"Ms. Stanton, Delgado is the best Fuentes has," Reno argued then. "He arrived within hours of the attempted hit last night. We can't take this chance with your life."
"And I can't run forever." Her heart was chugging in her breasts. "I've listened to Daddy rant about Fuentes. If I run, then I forfeit whatever game he's playing. He won't keep the rules he's laying in place then. Will he?"
Her father's lips flattened as his eyes flashed in rage. "I won't take this chance with your life."
"It's too late." She moved farther away from him, her hand slashing through the air as she fought to think. "Delgado. What does he do? How does he kill?"
Six pairs of male eyes watched her warily.
"His expertise is with a knife," Kell answered when it was obvious no one else intended to.
She could feel her breathing becoming heavier, her heart racing to keep up with the fear and adrenaline tearing through her.
"Why come to D.C.?" She swallowed tightly. "My plans were to return home today. Everyone knew that. Why come here?"
"He'll expect you to stay in the general area when we try to stash you," Kell answered again. "It would be logical, to keep the team close together rather than separating our strength."
"Was that your plan?"
"Not in this lifetime," her father answered. "And our plans aren't changing."
"Yes. They are," she informed him sharply. "I'm not hiding. I'm not running from this "
"Miss Stanton—" Reno began to argue.
"She'll go or I'll carry her," Kell interceded then, causing her to swing toward him, betrayal filling her.
"Why?" she questioned him angrily. "You know yourself this is what they want. Fuentes sent in a knife. He has to face us with a knife. If we run, he'll send guns, and you know it."
"He has to get a bead on you first," Kell said grimly. "And I promise you, he won't."
Emily licked her lips nervously. He was different this morning, quieter, more brooding. Grim, just as his voice was now. She had felt it in him as she lay in his arms the night before, and now she could see it. The rules had changed for him when he spilled his release into her unprotected body. The gloves were coming off, and now she was glimpsing the incredible force he kept so closely hidden.<
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"I'm not going. And if you weren't letting other things cloud your judgment, you would admit I'm right," she snapped. "Don't start babying me now, Kell. I won't stand for it."
She met his gaze, refusing to back down, refusing to allow him to see her fears. When staring into cold green ice, a woman had to do more than quell her fears of other forces. She had to quell the instinct to instantly submit.
She had been submitting for too many years. She wasn't going to return to that. Not with Kell.
"Emily, stop this stubbornness," her father snarled. "This is your life we're talking about."
"Kell." She whispered his name, not beseechingly, but as a plea for him to understand. "Don't take me out of the game like this. You had a plan, remember? They want to kidnap me, not kill me. If you hide me, they'll go for the jugular."
"What do you think a knife does, Emily?" he asked with chilling politeness.
"A knife gives you a chance to fight," she whispered back. "But even if it were bullets, we wouldn't have any other choice."
"Emily, you’re not just risking your own life here." Her father's voice was calm, indulgent. As it had been when she was a child and she tried to have her own adventures, without him. "You're risking Kell's life. Are you comfortable doing that?"
Emily flinched.
Her gaze went to the men around her. They were watching her, not with condemnation, but thoughtfully, as though curious as to how she would handle this new argument.
"You trained me to be careful when I was a teenager," she said then. "You taught me how to fight. How to make rational decisions, then overnight you decided to take all that away from me."
"This isn't the time for that argument," he snapped.
She continued to stare at Kell. "I'm right, and you know I am."
"You're asking a man to die for you, Emily," Her father's voice filled with anger now. "A damned good man."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm asking him to live with me. I can't live in a bubble anymore. I won't hide like this. We have three nights until the next party. A party where Fuentes's spy and his kidnapper are supposed to be in place. Why would he bring in an assassin at this date? Fuentes wants me as insurance. He doesn't want me dead."
"But that spy does, Emily." Her father's voice rose. "You're acting like a child now. Don't you see what's going on here? You're being caught between Fuentes and that son of a bitch he works with. There's no winning here. You don't have a choice."
She didn't take her eyes off Kell.
"Can you protect me outside the safe house?" she asked then. "Without getting yourself killed."
His gaze flicked to Reno.
"She's an adult," Reno answered neutrally. "I can't force her into the safe house."
"With help." He nodded, glancing at Ian.
"We'll have to pull in the senator's agent in Atlanta," Ian answered. "But we can do it. It’s just three days."
"And give Fuentes a chance to kill her?" her father yelled. "I forbid it. I won't allow it."
"You don't have a choice, Daddy." She didn't feel triumph, because Kell's expression hadn't changed. If anything, it had grown colder, more distant.
"Kell—" he began.
"She's right." His fists were curled at his sides. "If she hides now, the game is over before we find the spy. The only way to finish this is to play it out. We'll play it out. But you'll play by my rules," he informed her. Without expression. Without emotion. "Or I'll tie you up, gag you, and stuff you in the nearest safe house. Are we clear?"
She nodded sharply. "We're clear."
"What do you need, Kell?" Reno asked then.
"He needs a fucking brain," her father snapped. "Because he's lost his goddamned mind with her just like every other man does."
Emily felt her face flame in embarrassment. Her father was enraged, and if the flicker of response in Kell's gaze was anything to go by, then the cold inner fury he was keeping banked would more than meet it.
"Senator, this isn't your operation," Reno reminded him. "You're the target, not the commander."
"I outrank you."
"Not in this instance." Reno never raised his voice, but it firmed, grew harder. "Stand down, sir."
"Emily, this is foolish." He buried his hands in his hair and grimaced tightly. "Just go to the damned safe house."
"If I go to that safe house then I may as well resign myself to living in it for the rest of my life," she told him wearily. "Because whether you catch Fuentes or not won't matter. None of us will ever know if I have the ability to face life myself. And that matters to me, Dad. It matters more to me than you know."
"You're not trained," he snapped back.
"Because I loved you too much to sign up for the training I wanted. And through the years, I've loved you too much to fight the hurtful words you throw at me when I've tried to stand against you. I'm doing more than standing against you now, Dad. I'm taking what's mine. And my freedom means more to me than you will ever know. More than either of you will ever know." She shot Kell a look as icy as the one he was giving her. "It's easy to mouth platitudes when it suits you," she told him. "Now, let's see if you can put your money where your mouth is."
His eyes flicked over her before pausing at her stomach then rose to meet hers once again. "I've already done that, Emily. Now let's see if you can learn how to follow orders."
She almost snorted at that. "Follow orders? Kell, I've done nothing else for nearly twenty-five years. Following them has never bothered me. Being restrained by them is another thing."
And she was talking about much more than this mission and he knew it.
Start as you mean to go on, she told herself. Never let them see you sweat, and never back down when you're right. She was right. She couldn't risk having Kell see her as anything less than a woman who could aid in her own protection and that of her child, if there was a child.
And that, she guessed, was the whole reason for his distance now. There was the risk now, that she was carrying his baby. That she was walking into danger, refusing protection, and risking not just herself but his child.
Another child after he had already lost the first.
"Let's get Macey's intel and discuss how to proceed," Reno suggested then. "And I would suggest that we do it in more comfortable settings than this foyer."
"I'm going to need a drink," her father growled, glowering at her as they turned and headed for the senator's office.
"It's too early in the morning for a drink, Dad."
His brows lifted almost to his hairline. "Little girl, you're not big enough to tell me when I can drink."
"No, but I am big enough to tell you to remember your ulcer and your blood pressure. It's going to take enough of a beating in the next few years, so you might want to baby it a bit right now."
"And why is that?" he snapped.
Emily paused. "Because I'm not a little girl anymore. And I'm not going to pretend I am, for you or anyone else. I have a feeling that's not something you're going to deal with very well."
She ignored Macey's mocking, "He's not the only one." They stepped into the office and seated themselves.
Emily took a chair, directly across from her father. Kell flashed her a disgruntled expression before sitting on the side of the couch nearest her, with Ian taking the other side. Across from them, Reno and Macey took the other two chairs, with Clint pulling an extra chair in slightly behind her father.
"We can do this civilly?" Reno asked them all.
Her father glowered. Kell stared back with what Emily was beginning to suspect was icy fury.
A smile tugged at Reno's lips. "Good then. I'm glad we all agree. Now, let's see what we can do to throw a monkey wrench in Fuentes's and his spy's little game. It's time to bring them down."
Chapter Twenty
Elation surged through Diego. it was more exhilarating than any drug, pumping hard and fast through his bloodstream and nearly leaving him weak as he stared at the message on his PDA.
/> I agree.
Two little words. Such a simple phrase and yet it brought tears to his eyes, causing him to blink furiously to hold back his emotions.
He had given his son only the barest help in the past weeks, only enough to keep the girl alive but never enough to lead him to the bastard currently pinching at Diego's nerves.
It was the perfect plan. The perfect weapon to eliminate the man who would see everything Diego had worked for destroyed.
He wasn't a terrorist. He ran drugs and weapons, prostitutes and black market items. Terrorism wasn't good for such commerce. It broke the financial backs of the very people he depended upon for his livelihood. His spy, and the terrorist Sorrell, would use generations of groundwork to destroy not just the Fuentes cartel, but the freedom the Americans enjoyed to buy his drugs, his weapons, and his women.