The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please continue with your list.”

  She bit back a laugh, then turned serious. “I love it that you can make my knees go weak with a touch.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Like that?”

  And she felt an immediate jolt. Oh no, she wasn’t going to let him take control as easily as that. “I distinctly remember someone saying that I’m the boss of the bedroom. Take off your clothes.”

  “All right, then.” He grinned that sexy grin of his that made him a town legend. He peeled off his clothes, slowly, holding her gaze the whole time, making a good show of it.

  He was strong enough not to have to be in charge all the time. She added that to the long list of things that she loved about him.

  He stopped when he was down to his black boxer shorts, hooked his thumb into the waistband, and shot her a questioning look.

  “All of it.”

  He obliged, his enormous erection springing free. “Will there be some leather involved in this at some point, Madam Dominatrix?”

  “Maybe.” She liked the flare of heat in his gaze. She was in control, and she liked it.

  She stepped closer, walked around him, caressing his shoulders, his back, her hands slipping down to his firm buttocks, his muscles tightening under her fingers.

  Then she walked to face him and brushed his nipples deliberately. His erection grew even bigger, although she wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

  “Will you be taking your clothes off?” he inquired, his voice holding tension as her fingers danced down his abdomen.

  “When I’m ready.” She touched her index finger to his tip where a clear drop of liquid beaded.

  He jerked against her hand.

  She ran her fingers up and down his length. “You’ll do anything I say?”

  “Anything,” he promised in a husky voice, heat pouring off him.

  The feel of his silky skin made her nipples tighten. Moisture gathered between her legs.

  His tender lovemaking the other night had been perfect, but now she wanted more—the kind of reckless passion women who’d never been hurt by their men were capable of having.

  She closed her fingers around him and looked him in the eye. “I don’t want slow and sweet.”

  “Then tell me what you want.”

  And she did, brazenly, explicitly, his gaze darkening with her every word.

  He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and saw to it that her every wish was fulfilled.

  When they lay there, slick in each other’s arms after a lovemaking that went past her wildest dreams, she told him again that she loved him.

  “Then you’ll marry me?”

  “Why?”

  “Being with you feels better than scoring a thousand touchdowns.”

  “Is that football romance?” He could always make her laugh. That was a gift. And yet. “I think I’m going to need a little more time to get comfortable with the idea of marriage.” But she could see life with a man, for the first time, without being afraid of it.

  “Without pushing, I’d like you to consider this. Marriage is not one person gaining power over the other. It’s an equal partnership. It’s you propping me up when I fall down, and me propping you up when you need it. It’s having someone to share the good times with.”

  Sharing good times with a man sounded utterly foreign. But with Joe, she could almost see how it might be. “I’m going to work on becoming the person who can trust a relationship like that.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love you.”

  “My own, personal Cop Casanova.”

  “That’s Detective Casanova to you,” he said with a grin, then deepened the kiss.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Dana Marton

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Dana Marton has thrilled and entertained millions of readers around the globe with her fast-paced stories about strong women and honorable men who fight side by side for justice and survival.

  Kirkus Reviews calls her writing "compelling and honest." RT Book Review Magazine said, "Marton knows what makes a hero...her characters are sure to become reader favorites." Her writing has been acclaimed by critics, called, "gripping," "intense and chilling," "full of action," "a thrilling adventure," and wholeheartedly recommended to readers. Dana is the winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence, the Readers' Choice Award, and Best Intrigue, among other awards. Her book, TALL, DARK, AND LETHAL was nominated for the prestigious Rita Award. DEATHSCAPE reached the #1 spot on Amazon's Romantic Suspense Bestseller list.

  Keeping in touch with readers is Dana's favorite part of being an author. Please connect with her via her web site: www.danamarton.com or her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/DanaMarton.

  More books by Dana Marton:

  Deathwatch

  Deathscape

  Deathtrap

  ONE NIGHT TO KILL

  by Rita Herron

  One Night to Kill: Chapter One

  Get drunk. Get laid. Get sleep.

  Those were the three cardinal objectives of Sergeant Max Murdock’s next mission, and he was eager to get started.

  After completing the most hellacious Special Missions Unit (SMU) assignment he’d had yet, losing three fellow soldiers, almost getting blown up himself and getting shot, then the intensive debriefing he and his team had undergone since they’d arrived back stateside, he needed some major R & R.

  Seven days and seven nights of it.

  Thankfully his physical injury hadn’t been serious. One night in the hospital had been enough.

  But the scars from losing his fellow men ran deep.

  Just the thought of a cold beer made his mouth water. And a nice warm bed with real sheets—the stuff dreams were made of.

  But what he wanted, what he craved most, was a hot tamale in that warm bed, her hands trailing down his belly, her lips closing around his cock.

  An orgasm without having to resort to his own hand.

  Yes, in a few hours he would make up for all he’d missed.

  Finally.

  But first he had one last meeting.

  The final obstacle to freedom.

  But nothing was going to come between him and his time off. Nothing.

  Straightening the collar of his uniform, he filed into the conference room where two of the other members of his team stood waiting to be dismissed as well. Sergeant Rocky “The Rock” Washington, a sniper and weapons expert—and the man who’d saved his ass from an insurgent more than once in his life. And fighter pilot Sergeant Dane Wilder who’d managed to fly all their butts out of enemy fire on that last mission that had blown up in their faces.

  From the looks of their expressions, they were as anxious to forget the nightmares of combat as much as he was. And just as ready to party.

  General Woods strode into the Pentagon office, his presence more commanding than any officer Max had encountered. Immediately he, Rocky and Dane stood at attention to salute him.

  Ash-gray eyes that had trained and commanded more missions than Max could count, eyes that held military secrets that were highly classified, eyes that held contempt for the enemy and demanded the highest expectations for his soldiers, raked over Max and his buddies with a look that made Max want to turn tail and run.

  The general’s fierce code of honor and ethics intimidated the hell out of him, but it also raised his admiration and garnered his respect. Maybe because he hadn’t grown up with a code of ethics.

  Only his father’s fists.

  Or maybe because Max hadn’t always been a moral man.

  No. Hell no. He had his weaknesses.

  But they made him a damn fine recruit and Special Forces agent and had helped pave his way to a specialist position in the bomb unit. A position General Woods had recommended him for because he’d believed in Max.

  He was the first person who ever had.

 
His own father had drilled into him that he was worthless.

  “At ease, soldiers,” General Woods said.

  Although Max would never be at ease around his superior, he obeyed and so did his teammates.

  “I want to commend you on completing Mission Dovetail. Thanks to each of you, your expertise, intelligence, and bravery, we recovered highly sensitive data that could have been detrimental to our country, and Commander Wilcox is back home safe and sound with his family.”

  Max remained stoic, forcing the images of the lives they’d lost in order to accomplish their goals from his mind. Three of their own.

  Three too many.

  “I have arranged your furloughs.” General Woods rapped his knuckles on the polished desk. “Seven nights, soldiers. And then I expect you to return ready to serve your country.”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Max chimed in tandem with his teammates.

  “You are dismissed, soldiers.” General Woods saluted them, and Max, Rocky and Dane saluted in return. Clicking his heels, Max turned to follow the other men from the office, his heart drumming in his chest.

  A few feet more and he could relax. A few more feet and he would be free from the tension and stress of combat.

  He could hardly wait to hit the bars.

  Then maybe he could escape the nightmares.

  The men waited until they’d ridden the elevator down and cleared the building before they spoke.

  “Whew, I’m glad that’s over,” Rocky took a huge gulp of the fresh air. “General Tightass seemed so tense I thought he was going to change his mind about releasing us.”

  “He’s always tense.” A dark shadow fell across Dane’s face, and he pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on. “But he’d better not change his mind. I have a flight to Florida for my best friend’s wedding. Seven days and nights of sexy bridesmaids, booze, and hot-to-trot babes in bikinis.” A rare smile curved his mouth. “We’ve earned this one, guys.”

  Max grinned, although the same darkness he’d detected in Dane’s expression sometimes jumped out of nowhere to eat at his soul. A sexy woman in bed pleasuring him would do wonders to alleviate the pain. “Where are you off to, Rock?”

  Rocky loosened his collar. “Miami. That town has the sexiest South Beach women on the planet.”

  Max had his sights set on a beach somewhere, too. Anywhere. He had no place he called home.

  “Maybe we can start the celebration at the airport before we fly out,” he suggested.

  Dane and Rocky nodded, but before they could set a time, Max’s cell phone dinged that he had a text, and he checked the number.

  General Woods.

  “Dammit.”

  “What’s wrong?” Rocky asked.

  “I don’t know, but the general wants to see me.”

  “Uh-oh, what’d you do?” Rocky asked.

  “I have no idea, but I’ll catch up with you later.” Max headed back inside, his mind contemplating the possibilities.

  A minute later when he stepped into the general’s office and saw the grave expression on his commander’s face, he sensed trouble.

  General Woods stood ramrod straight, his mouth set in an angry line. “Sergeant Murdock, an emergency situation has arisen. I need you immediately.”

  His pulse jumped. A terrorist attack? Nuclear bomb? The president was in danger? “Sir, yes, sir.”

  General Woods’s hand shook as he sank into his desk chair. “A threat to my life has been made, and my daughter may be in danger.”

  No national security threat?

  Max frowned. The general had military police to investigate and security details to protect him. Why would he need him?

  Then the general lifted his face, and trepidation knotted Max’s stomach. No...he couldn’t be asking what he thought he was asking.

  General Woods angled the photograph of his family toward Max. “While the military police investigate this matter, I need you to protect my daughter Willow.”

  Max gulped. “Sir? You want me to be your daughter’s bodyguard?”

  “Yes, Sergeant.” General Woods gestured toward Willow’s smiling face. “You have excellent skills and are one of my most trustworthy men. That makes you the best man for the job.”

  Max grimaced. The photo showed a knobby-kneed teenager dressed in her private school uniform with braids and wire-rimmed glasses. Her hair was a weird red, her pug nose dotted with freckles. Granted, she was a little older now, but he was certain she was still just as prim and proper and homely.

  And probably spoiled rotten.

  General Woods cleared his throat, but emotions tinged his voice. “Sergeant, I lost my wife a few years ago. Willow is all I have left. You hear what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, sir.” He certainly did.

  Max’s insides churned with the unfairness of the general’s request as he braced himself for more details.

  General Woods’s cold eyes narrowed to fierce slits. “Nothing is more important to me than Willow, Sergeant. Let anything bad happen to her, let anyone lay a damn finger on her, and not only will your career be over, but your life won’t be worth living.”

  Max’s jaw tightened, but he confirmed that he understood with a nod and a salute.

  But inside he was seething.

  If he denied the general’s orders, he’d probably be court marshaled.

  But now instead of the mental and physical break he desperately needed, instead of seven days and nights of erotic bliss, he had to spend the week babysitting his commanding officer’s snot-nosed, geeky daughter.

  What had he done to deserve this kind of punishment?

  * * *

  “Oh, yes, baby, yes, that’s the way to do it...” Willow sighed, closing her eyes for effect, then whispered into the phone. “That feels wonderful.”

  Her lover’s breath rasped out, low and husky. “You like my mouth on your breasts?”

  “Oh, god, yes...” Willow whispered.

  “Your body is so beautiful. I’m rolling your nipple between my teeth.”

  “I can feel you tugging it into your mouth.” She moaned, the sultry strains of jazz music playing in the background. “Please, don’t stop...”

  “No... I won’t.” His breathing grew deeper, more labored. “Now my hands are trailing down your spine.”

  Willow purred, “Your fingers are like magic.”

  “You want more?”

  “Oh, yes. Lower...lower...lower...”

  “Part your legs for me, baby.”

  “I am. Are you hard now?”

  “Rock hard. I want to be inside you.”

  “I want that, too.”

  A moan reverberated from him. “Is your blood pumping?”

  Willow flipped up the speed on her treadmill, clicked to a rap song, and increased her pace, breathing heavily to encourage him. “Yes, oh, yes, you make my body burn...”

  So her body was burning from her workout instead of him. It was phone sex. He didn’t have to know what she was really doing.

  “God, baby...” A throaty sigh followed. “You are so hot, I don’t think I can hold back.”

  “Then don’t, sugar, I’m there with you...”

  A groan of male satisfaction burst over the phone, then a symphony of orgasmic sounds.

  Willow continued to run—at least the exercise accelerated her heart rate and helped her through the panting and huffing part. The first time she’d faked it, she’d hyperventilated and nearly passed out, so she found music and exercise alleviated her tension and made her sound more natural.

  Another few moans, then a grunt, and Willow glanced at her clock, ticking off the minutes she’d held the client over the phone.

  Forty-five. Hot damn. A record long for him. Every minute added to his bill and her wallet.

  “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had,” the man murmured in a deep voice.

  Willow rolled her eyes at the patheticness of that statement. Her best lover had actually been a real man, not just a vo
ice on the phone. Although she hadn’t had many...

  But whatever got the poor man off.

  Her PCP, personal cell phone, the one she never used for her phone sex business, buzzed for the tenth time since she’d started the session. Honestly, it was a wonder she’d been able to satisfy the customer with the nagging interruption.

  The sound of a zipper rasping echoed over the phone line, and she banished an image of what the man might look like based on her analysis of his voice.

  “Same time tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Yes, same time,” Willow said in her best sultry tone. “Bye now, honey.”

  She threw the honey in to make it sound personal. Besides, she had a firm and fast rule about withholding her real name and not wanting to know her phone lovers’. The idea of actually meeting or running into one of her super-sex-charged clients in person scared the bejeebies out of her.

  He murmured some nonsensical nothings about dressing up like Darth Vader and wearing helmets during their next interlude, and she laughed and shuddered at the same time, then hung up. Mopping the perspiration from her neck with a towel, she climbed off the treadmill and drained the rest of her vitamin water.

  Her PCP trilled again—her father’s ring tone—and she cursed in English, then in Chinese, then German. Damnation. The general was determined to harass her tonight!

  He’d always been domineering, overprotective, and a control freak. And he did not like waiting.

  Or having anyone disobey his commands.

  Which, of course, she’d done a thousand times in her life. Some of them just because she’d been a kid.

  Some of them just to piss him off.

  That vein in his bald head that bulged every time he got angry was really kind of funny. It looked like a road map winding down his neck.

  But the last time they’d butted heads, she’d moved out. The reason she was trying to make it through this grad school program on her own.