Prisoner Mine

by Megan Mitcham

  “Make some noise or something.” She pressed a hand over her flailing heart and drew a heavy breath.

  “In my work noise gets a man killed. In yours too,” he reminded with a hitched brow.

  “Could you put on some clothes?” His naked forearms rested on the comforter just in front of his bare shoulders and chest.

  “I put on pants.”

  Greer leaned onto her elbow and peered down. By pants he meant black, muscle-hugging briefs. Her insides bloomed and contracted greedily.

  “You said your dad recommended you for the job. What did you mean?”

  He obviously hadn’t caught the please-fuck-me face she’d been unable to hide. All for the best. “I was an active marine,” she explained.

  “I know.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. “Would you look at that? We have something in common.”

  “There was nothing royal about my posting.” Her gaze dropped to the Royal Marines Commando dagger on his abdomen. “You were elite.”

  “Still am.” He winked. “But I want to know about you.”

  She ignored the flutter in her belly, but damn, it was hard. He let this flirtatious part of himself show so seldom.

  “I started straight from college as a second lieutenant. Four years and three tours later I made captain.” That time in her life had been terrifying and freeing in the same labored breaths. She missed it more than she let herself think about. “My comrades resented me, of course. They were mostly men, who started just before or after me.”

  “It’s a fast advancement.”

  “Not terribly. They thought I was promoted because my uncle and father were in the senate. When I called to tell my dad, and make certain they didn’t have anything to do with the pace of my rank increase, he cut me off.” She rolled onto her belly and rested her chin in her hands. “He said he was surprised by my rash promotion, and all but hung up on me. It seemed like he resented my advancement more than the men I’d passed over.”

  “Why would he begrudge your progress? Other than he’s a total piece of shit, which we’ve already established.”

  “He’s not that bad.”

  “He’s rat shit. Let’s move on.”

  “Military service was a must in my family. My great-grandfathers were starred, two brigadier generals. My grandfather was a major general.”

  “No shit?” Z’s shoulders straightened.

  “None.” A grin struck her by surprise.

  “That’s impressive.”

  “They were impressive men.” She nodded.

  “Your dad couldn’t hack it?”

  “He was sent home two weeks into his first deployment, given an honorable discharge, and to this day I have no idea why. He wasn’t injured. Not that I’ve been able to discern from his medical records.”

  “So you’ve been snooping?”

  “I had questions he refused to answer.”

  “I have plenty of those too.” His thumb grazed the curve of her jaw. “You going to start snooping on me?”

  It took a few seconds for her brain to register the question. She chuckled. “Already have. Imagine—there was nothing on you, Mr. Z.”

  His hand left her chin. “Your dad cut his foot on a rusted nail in camp, developed tetanus, and was sent home.”

  “What?” Greer scrambled to her bottom. “How do you have access to that information?”

  “It’s all bullshit,” he said, not answering her question.

  Her head cocked.

  “It’s a cover-up. Something else happened outside Al-Wafrah. What? We’ll probably never know. The commanding officer who signed off on the report died in a car accident the day he landed in the States.”

  An ominous chill rolled over Greer’s neck, creating an outbreak of gooseflesh across her arms and legs. “My dad knows.”

  “He’s the only one who would.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and chafed them with her hands. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

  “So, your father recommended you…”

  “He knew a guy with US Elite. He said they were doing groundbreaking work, less red tape, more results. He told me they were really making a difference, helping more people.” A huff erupted from her throat. “My dad scheduled the interview. I got the job.”

  “And you didn’t turn it down, even though you wanted to.”

  “How’d you know I didn’t want to take it?”

  He aimed his steady gaze on her and shifted his knees onto the ground. “When you talked about your rank your face lit up.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to let my dad down more. I’m a pleaser.”

  Z braced his hands on the bed, hung his head and shook it slowly back and forth, as though trying to work it out in his head, but coming up empty.

  “I like to see people happy. If I can do something to facilitate that, what’s the harm?”

  “There’s no harm…unless you’re the one whose happiness pays the price.”

  “It doesn’t.” She turned toward him and pointed toward the door, trying to get him to understand. “The man outside—”

  “The homeless guy.” Z’s head jerked up as he spat the word.

  “Yes, the homeless guy. If he accepts my help, he’ll find his purpose again and he’ll help my friend out in the process. If it works out, I’ll have changed people’s lives for the better, mine included. My happiness grows with his.”

  “He’s not your responsibility.”

  Z’s face reddened to the shade of her night-on-the-town lipstick. She’d seen him angry, but never so visibly moved by it. His calm had vanished like a waitress when you’re so hungry you could eat your arm off. She suddenly wondered if they were talking about the man outside or the one kneeling in front of her, but reason didn’t temper her reaction to his disregard.

  “Why not? He’s a person. I’m a person.” Anger lifted Greer to her knees. She cleared the gap between them. Her voice rose to meet her indignation. “Just because I have a place to live and he doesn’t, doesn't make me better than him. It just makes our circumstances different. Do you think you’re better than him—name with no name—because you had a fancy car and cash to throw around? I mean, you see how quickly that can all change.”

  “I was him,” Z shouted and stood. His hands found his hips. He stood over her now. His chest puffed, but his head hung low. “Only I was a kid.”

  Realization rocked Greer onto her heels.

  “Nobody gave a fuck about me or my sister. The only thing they were interested in was how to use us to get what they wanted.”

  The crack in her heart shattered wide. Greer wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him close. Tears clogged her throat, but she gagged them down. He’d never forgive her pity. She wanted to protect the child he’d been and heal the man he’d become, but she held perfectly still.

  “Nobody is going to take care of you in this world, but you. It’s time you learned that shitty fact. I figured you’d have learned it when your dad blamed you for your cousin’s crime when he should have been at the kid’s doorstep beating the life out of him.”

  Greer covered her mouth. Her cheek throbbed as though he’d slapped her.

  Z drew up. His grousing and huffing died on his open lips. He didn't take the statement back. Why would he when it was true? She should have learned her lesson. But it was high time he learned one too.

  “That’s not true. Your sister cared. You cared for her. If no one had cared, you wouldn’t be here today, taking care of me. If no one cares, you be the one who cares, the one who makes a difference.” Greer lifted to her knees again. “You still don't see it?”

  “See what?”

  “That you are the one who cares? It’s not just me.”

  His hands squeezed his knuckles white for an eight count, before he lifted them to his nape and tugged. All the while his gaze roved her face. Quiet war raged inside him like he wanted to curse her and caress her at the same time.
/>   “Say it,” she demanded.

  “What?”

  “Say you care.”

  He stayed stubbornly silent.

  Greer stretched her arms wide, daring him to release the thought that caused him so much trouble. “Say something.”

  “You sucked me off to put me in a better mood?”

  Her mouth fell open. A squeaky amalgam of confusion, protest, and outrage leaked out.

  “I refuse to be your charity case.”

  “Charity case?” She leaned forward. Her chest bombarded his space. “It would be more than what I am to you. To you, I’m simply the means to an end. But no, let me salve your ego. I went down on you because I wanted to feel you, to experience your taste. I wanted to draw a reaction from you for purely selfish reasons.”

  “Selfish?” He stared down at her.

  “Yes. I don’t regret it. If you do, I’m truly sorry.” A cursed tear slipped down her cheek. “I didn’t expect it to mean much to you, but it meant something to me.”

  Z’s head bent. His lips pressed against hers, silencing her outrage. The hard mouth he’d punished with earlier now forgave with a tender embrace. Hot fingers splayed across her jaw and dipped into the hair at her nape. He cradled her head. His full mouth grazed delicate kisses along her lips. Sun-weathered skin around his eyes crinkled with each caress. That hypnotizing grey gaze never left hers. She’d never kissed with her eyes open. The closeness added a layer of vulnerability. There was no place for either of them to hide.

  Her fingers craved the touch of his skin, but she didn’t move. She surrendered. His lips grew more insistent on her mouth, parting her lips. The eager tip of his tongue slipped inside the edge of her mouth. He coaxed her upper lip into his heat. The point of his teeth abraded her already swollen skin. A surge of desire roared low and rolled through her. Z pulled back, panting, but held her fast.

  “Fuck me to my grave, Greer, I care about you.” His lips formed a tight, menacing pout.

  She stared at him in awe for too many pounding heartbeats. He cared about her. He didn’t sound the least bit happy about it, but he did. “Why is caring so horrible?”

  “It means I’ve given my enemies a weakness to use against me.”

  How many enemies did he have and why? She wanted to know everything, but wouldn’t ask. If she bombarded him with questions, he’d shut down. So, she stuck with the one she needed to know as desperately as she needed her next breath.

  “A weakness?”

  “You...you’re the worst tactical move of my life. I can’t seem to protect myself from you.”

  “I won’t betray you.” Greer placed her hand over his heart. “Not ever.”

  “I know.” His long lashes nearly hit his cheek as he zeroed in on the center of her sternum. After a long pause, he pressed his hand against the very spot. His fingers spanned practically her entire width, absorbing the surge of her heart.

  She watched the pulse in his neck increase. Hers matched it with wild swells. His hand moved with the rise and fall of her breaths. When his gaze lowered to her breasts the waver of her chest became shallow.

  Z’s tongue slid across his bottom lip, leaving behind glistening skin. His hand climbed one tantalizing millimeter at a time. The sturdy touch roved up her chest, to her collar bone, and up the side of her neck. She hoped he’d tug her hair again and kiss her, but his hand lowered to where it had begun and started up the other side of her chest and neck. He explored and examined her skin. Once again his hand found her heart, and then ascended until his fingers rested at the base of her throat.

  “You trust me.”

  “Yes.” She whispered through nerves and eager lips, though he’d made a statement.

  His gaze found hers. “If you want me to stop, you say the word and it’s done.”

  Greer nodded.

  “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  Greer’s heart dropped into her big toe. Her cheeks flamed. She’d wanted him to, had been silently begging for it.

  He put his thumb under her chin and raised her gaze. Only then did she realize it had dropped. Again he wet his lips. “You deserve someone who’ll make love to you. I don’t know how to do that. But…fair is only fair.”

  She was about to protest that she was no man’s charity case either. His fingers wrapped around the width of her neck. He pulled her forward and speared her mouth with his tongue. The argument died on the steady strokes of his thick tongue against hers. Her grip banded his forearm, holding him close. The tension in her knees gave. She bowed under the onslaught of Z. His other arm banded her lower back. As the kiss wore on, it also wore down her budding anxiety. His kiss pushed everything aside except his command over her pleasure.

  He sucked at her mouth, pulling her lower lip out and nibbling on the edge. Molten sensation dripped through her veins straight to her core. She moaned against his mouth. If he wasn’t going to screw her brains out, what was he going to do, kiss her into a coma?

  Z leaned back, dropping the hand that had slipped to her hips. “You with me?”

  Greer couldn’t speak or even nod. Arousal limited her physical capabilities to gulping air.

  “Looks like you’re a little bit behind. I’m going to have to slow this down so you can keep up.” A crooked smirk tilted his mouth.

  “I can keep up,” she panted. Her knees had rubberized somewhere along the way. A wine-like buzz slowed her reactions. It also made her brazen as hell. If he stopped now, she’d probably strip and demand he continue.

  “I don’t want to rush this anyway.”

  That knowing smirk returned. Z’s free hand grabbed the comforter and yanked it onto the floor. Using the hand at her neck, he pressed her back. When gravity took over his grip shifted to her nape. He eased her to the bed. The fitted sheet cooled her overheated skin. His gaze roamed her arched body, lingering on her bent legs. The tension at her neck broke. His fingers dragged over her neck and chest. His flesh hid the swell at the top of her camisole. On instinct her back rounded, pressing the proud curve into his hand.

  His neck rolled. A guttural vibration rumbled in his chest. The pressure of his hand increased. Greer watched his other hand join in. He molded her breasts to fit his palms. The rough sides of his thumbs chafed the thin white cotton again and again.

  While Z coaxed her nipples to beaded points Greer morphed from a virgin soldier into a carnal being. Low moans and exclaimed breaths poured from her lips. Her bottom rocked, giving squeaky voice to the coil spring mattress.

  “Yeah, you can keep up.”

  Z’s firm touch anchored at the bend of her knees and tugged. His deft fingers lit a path down the back of her calves to her ankles, straightening her legs. He spread them on either side of his hips. The chilled air coasted over the crotch of her damp shorts. Then he yanked. Her bottom hit the edge of the mattress, while her core buffeted his fully erect cock.

  “Ooh, gah.” Greer’s toes curled and her eyes clamped shut.

  He gripped the back of her ribs and urged her deeper into the arch. She went willingly, letting the crown of her head scrape the sheet and her arms fall by her sides. One of his arms held her in place. The other danced along the rim of her camisole. Moist breath teased her chest. His fingers dipped below the right strap, and then slipped it off her shoulder.

  “Please, Z. You won’t break me.”

  She didn’t know what she wanted, but she wanted it now. If he couldn’t make love to her, she needed to feel the unbridled desire that kept him from the care and intimacy he now showed her.

  Z drove the strap off her other shoulder and jerked the front of her shirt to her belly button. The fabric gave under his strength, scraping the skin at the small of her back. Her eyes flew open and her head shot up.

  Grey eyes smelted to liquid metal. They stole every thought, except fuck me. Luckily, she didn’t say it. It would take two shifts of material for their most intimate parts to meet, to mate. Z leaned forward. His lips sealed around her pink areola. When he sucked
her hips rocked, pressing her wetness against him. His tongue slapped her nipple. His gaze locked on hers.

  Full lips parted over her pointed flesh. He plucked her deeper into his mouth and sucked. The electric sting of his tongue traveled through her body and lashed the tip of her clit. Greer’s hands clamped onto the coarse strands of his hair. She tugged him closer, which drove her hips forward. They undulated, rubbing against the full crown of his head. The voltage multiplied.

  His fingers bit into the lushness of her bottom. He urged her strokes harder and deeper. The frantic pace he set with his hand matched the suckling of his mouth. Frenzied breaths dried Greer’s throat, but her inner walls slicked. She grabbed at his shoulders and banded her legs around his hips. Her eyes closed.

  “Yes, Z. Yes.”

  A pop and the sudden immoveable bar of his hands shocked her eyes wide. His mouth left her flesh. He untwined her legs from his middle. Ragged huffs of air left his thick lips.

  “What’d I—” Greer stammered.

  “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You do it all too well. That’s the only problem.”

  He stood. A pang of alarm jarred her pre-orgasmic bliss. The look of pure animalistic lust in his gaze tamped down her rising concern. She’d gotten to him, Mr. Closed Off and Concealed. He filled his hands with her bottom, shoved her up the bed, and then climbed on. His fingers hooked the shirt wadded at her waist. The camisole and boxers too moved down her body under his coaxing hand.

  Both nipples throbbed, but the one he’d paid such close attention to swelled larger than the other. Rubbed red skin covered her pubic bone. A dimple the size and shape of Z’s thumb marred her hip. The inner muscles twitched. He tossed the clothing over his shoulder and spread her knees wide. His head tilted for a better view of her everything. Her cheeks should’ve burned, but the only thing aflame was her desire for this man.

  “Cor blimey, beautiful.” The front of his boxer briefs twitched and the dark circle at the tip of his penis expanded.

  Z lowered himself to all fours. His head hung low like a hunting wolf as he crawled toward her. When he nuzzled his wide shoulders between her legs Greer’s neurons liquefied. His gaze held her in place. A velvet swipe of his tongue sang across the swollen tip of her tender nub to the base, and then over the crest of her pelvis. Her fingers clawed the bed sheets. Her senses overloaded. Heavy breaths rushed in and out of her lungs.