Hard Asset: A Cobra Elite Novel

by Pamela Clare

  She dropped the comb, covered her bare breasts. “Is it ten minutes already?”

  He said nothing but barred the door behind him, his gaze sliding over her, water dripping off his camo-pattern rain gear and onto the wooden floor.

  Embarrassed to have gone over her time, she tried to explain. “I cleaned a cut on my leg. I guess I took too long. Sorry. I was just combing my hair. I’ll get dressed and—”

  “Let me help.”

  Her pulse quickened.

  He took off his rain gear and his boots and socks and slipped inside the mosquito netting to sit behind her, his weight making the mattress shift. “Give me your comb.”

  His voice was deep and soft like it had been the night he’d kissed her.

  Had that been just last night?

  How her life had changed in twenty-four hours.

  She handed him the comb, one arm still covering her breasts, her nipples drawing tight at the memory of what it had felt like to kiss him.

  He caught the damp mass of her hair, drew it over her shoulder so that it hung down her back, his fingers grazing her nape, the accidental touch sending shivers down her spine. “I love your hair.”

  “I didn’t have shampoo.” That was a stupid thing to say!

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s still beautiful—like black silk.” He took the comb and slowly worked from the ends, taking care not to pull her hair.

  He sat so close that she could feel his body heat, so close that she could smell the salt of his skin and the scent of rain that clung to him.

  He set the comb on the mattress beside her, his big hands sliding up her arms to cup her shoulders, his touch making her shiver. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Other men had said that, but it hadn’t affected her the way it did now.

  She tilted her head to the side in invitation, hoping against hope that he would forget the rules for just a moment and kiss her. Yes, he was still her bodyguard, but the situation was different now, wasn’t it?

  The first tentative touch of his lips against her skin made her gasp, her heart racing, tingles spreading along her nape. “Yes.”

  His hands moved to cup her breasts, felt their weight, gave them a gentle squeeze.

  She leaned back against the hard wall of his chest, arched to press herself deeper into his hands, heat flooding her belly as he circled her already puckered nipples with his thumbs. He took his time, rubbing the aching tips with callused palms, rolling them between his finger and thumb, plucking them with his fingertips, lavishing them with attention until she was wet and aching.

  She decided to take a chance. “I want you, Connor.”

  “I haven’t cleaned up yet.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She took one of his hands, pressed it against her racing heart. “I know you said you’d kiss me again when we got to The Hague and this was over, but I don’t know that we’re going to make it. I don’t want to wait. I want you now.”

  Shanti’s words washed over Connor, desire punching him in the solar plexus. In terms of excuses to fuck, fear of imminent death was a pretty good one. He knew he was treading on thin ice, knew it could cost him his job, but he couldn’t seem to care. He’d promised to get her back home alive, and he intended to keep that promise. Still, he’d spent his entire adult life in conflict zones and watched more than a few good men die. Not every story had a happy ending. If he was going to die out here, he would take something of Shanti with him.

  Carpe fucking Diem.

  He moved outside of the mosquito netting and made quick work of getting naked, unable to take his gaze off her—those perfect breasts with their dark brown nipples, her rounded hips, her smooth brown skin, the gentle curve of her belly. His cock was already hard, impatient for her, but he was not going to rush this.

  She looked him over, and he could tell that she liked what she saw, her gaze lingering on his erection in a way that made him harder. She reached for the bucket, a clean square of gauze, and a little bar of soap, and got on her knees.

  He ducked beneath the mosquito netting, knelt before her, offering himself to her. She dipped the cloth in the water and then washed his face, careful not to hurt the wound on his temple. She moved onto his neck, then his shoulders and his arms, squeezing his biceps as if testing his strength. When she reached his chest, she seemed to forget what she was doing, her hands exploring his pecs, her fingers threading through his chest hair, her thumbs teasing his nipples, making his abs jerk tight.

  It was the sexiest sponge bath he’d ever had—if not the most efficient.

  “You having fun?”

  “I’ve never met a man like you.”

  “You’ve got that right.” He took the gauze from her, let her play with his body while he finished washing.

  When he had finished, he drew her down to the bed, his mouth claiming hers. The two of them rolled together, locked in a scorching kiss, their legs tangling, her breasts pressing against his ribs, her hands sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. She felt so good in his arms, all fire and silk.

  He broke the kiss, tasted the skin of her throat, her scent intoxicating, her pulse beating hard and fast against his lips. But he needed more of her.

  He pressed kisses to her collarbone, the divot at the base of her throat, her breastbone, her heartbeat frantic against his lips. Then he cupped one lush breast, took its pebbled nipple into his mouth, and sucked.

  She drew in a quick breath and moaned, her back arching, her fingers sliding into his hair. “Oh, yes.”

  He went from one sweet nipple to the other and back again, sucking them to tight, swollen peaks, unable to get enough, Shanti twisting beneath him, her hips sending a message his body couldn’t ignore.

  He slid one hand down the soft skin of her belly, nudged her thighs apart with his knee, then cupped her, dark curls beneath his palm, her clit already swollen.

  He explored her, moaned. “You are so wet.”

  She bent her knees, let them fall open. “I want you inside me.”

  That’s when it hit Connor—he didn’t have a condom.

  Maybe she had it covered. “Are you on the pill?”

  She shook her head, looking adorably miserable. “I don’t suppose that fancy survival kit comes with condoms?”

  He shook his head. “Shit.”

  Need for her burned in him.

  “Can you just pull out? I know it’s not the safest way, but…”

  His heart gave a hard thud, some part of him stunned that she trusted him so completely. “Are you sure? I’ll do my best, but it’s risky.”

  “After today, I’m willing to take a few risks.”

  Hell, he couldn’t blame her for that.

  But Connor hadn’t had unprotected sex since he was a teenager. It went against his personal code. If Shanti had been any other woman, there’s no way he would even have considered it. But she wasn’t like any of them.

  He slid a finger inside her, got it good and wet, then stroked her clit. “Tell me what feels good.”

  She reached down, adjusting the pressure, showing him just how she liked it, her nails biting into his skin when he got it right. “Just … like ... that.”

  God, she was a wet dream, a fantasy come to life—beautiful, responsive, sexy as fuck. He wanted to make her come. He wanted to make her scream. He wanted to give her all the pleasure she could take.

  Her eyes were closed now, her brow furrowed, her lips parted, every exhale a little whimper. One of her hands had come to rest on his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin. “Inside … me … please.”

  He slid two fingers into her and went for her G-spot, fucking her with his fingers, his thumb now busy with her clit. Shanti moaned, her head rolling on her pillow, dark hair spilling across her face. He could tell she was close, so close, her whimpers spurring him on. He lowered his mouth to a dusky nipple once again and suckled.

  She came with a cry, bliss shining on her face, her inner musc
les clenching hard around his fingers, making him ache to have his cock inside her.

  He kept up the rhythm, waited until her orgasm had passed, then settled himself between her parted thighs, holding himself above her so he could see her face.

  She opened her eyes, gave him a sexy smile that he felt all the way to his balls.

  His gaze locked with hers. “Are you sure you want this?”

  She slid her hands up his chest. “God, yes.”

  Still floating from one of the most intense orgasms of her life, Shanti watched Connor’s face as he entered her with a single, slow thrust, his expression one of pleasure mingled with sexual need. She couldn’t help but moan as he filled her, stretched her, buried himself inside her, his cock thick and hard.

  “God, you’re tight.” He held himself still inside her, kissed her, gave her a moment to get used to him, his blue eyes dark. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this without a condom. I forgot how incredible it feels.”

  She let her hands explore him, some feminine part of her thrilled by the rock-hard feel of him. “Your body is so different from mine.”

  He chuckled. “Thank God for that.”

  He began to move, slowly at first, taking his time.

  Oh, it felt good—that slow stroke, that deep stretch. Then again, just watching him as he rocked into her turned her on, the muscles of his belly contracting, his biceps and shoulders tense from holding himself above her.

  He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster.

  Excitement shimmered through her to see the effect she had on him. In the short time she’d known him, he’d always been in control of himself, even on the helicopter, his rage just a tool. But she could see his control fraying a little more with each thrust.

  His breathing was faster now, his lips parted, his muscles tight, sweat beading on his chest. Then he stopped, opened his eyes, an expression like pain on his face. “God, Shanti, you feel so good.”

  Then he drew a deep, slow breath, as if willing his body to relax, his control returning. He adjusted his hips, levering himself upward. When he thrust again, the base of his cock grazed her clit, the sweet shock of it making her gasp.

  “Oh, what are you …?”

  “I want this to be good for you, too.”

  She’d never had multiple orgasms before, but she didn’t tell him that, mostly because she couldn’t think. She held onto his shoulders, the tension inside her building once more, thrust upon thrust, until she was the one about to lose control, her body hovering on the shimmering crest of a second climax. “Connor.”

  Pleasure washed through her, pure and golden. He stayed with her, keeping up the rhythm until the last ripples of bliss had passed. Then he shifted his hips once again and thrust himself into her, driving deep and hard and fast, his body drawing tight.

  He pulled out with a groan, Shanti reaching down to finish him, his cock jerking in her hand as he came on her belly. He collapsed onto one elbow beside her, breathing hard, his chest glistening with sweat. “Holy fuck.”

  He wiped her clean with the gauze she’d use for her bath, then stretched out on the bed beside her and took her into his arms, the way he looked at her making her feel like the only woman in the world.

  “I’ve never done that before,” she managed to say, exhaustion overtaking her.

  “Neither have I.” He had to be insane to try the withdrawal method.

  “No, I mean I’ve never come twice like that.”

  He raised his head, looked down at her. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Then it’s about damned time.” He kissed her hair. “I hate to ruin the mood, but we should get dressed. We do not want to get caught with our pants off.”

  She moaned in protest, snuggled closer to him. “I like you naked.”

  “I like you…” His head came up, his expression grim. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” The rain had stopped, but she didn’t hear anything.

  In a blink, he was on his feet, weapon in hand.

  Adrenaline brought her wide awake.

  He walked over to the table and put out the lamp, leaving her to grope in the darkness for her clothes.

  Had Naing’s men caught up with them? If they had, how were she and Connor going to get down from the tree house without being seen?

  “I’d give my left nut right now for night vision goggles,” Connor said softly, his voice coming from near the door. “Stay down.”

  And then she heard it—a strange guttural sound, deep and sonorous.

  That wasn’t soldiers.

  Connor opened the door, a sliver of moonlight spilling over him to show that he had his weapon raised. He glanced outside—and grinned. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  “Elephants.”

  Shanti hurried over to him. “Wow!”

  There were seven elephants. They strolled through the camp, not seeming to notice Connor and Shanti.

  “It’s a group of males.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Connor pointed, a grin on his face.

  “Oh! Good grief.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see elephants in the wild.”

  “All you had to do was sign up for the Jungle Abduction Tour. Don’t you wish you’d brought your camera?”

  13

  Connor woke early the next morning, Shanti in his arms. For a moment, he watched her sleep, a strange tenderness filling his chest. He could still smell her on his skin, still taste her on his tongue, still hear the cry she’d made when she’d come.

  He ought to be angry with himself. He’d had unprotected sex with a client, who was depending on him for her survival. He’d broken all the rules, done things he’d never imagined he’d do. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

  Since Mandy, sex had been little more than a transaction. Buy a pretty woman a few drinks, go back to her place, trade orgasms, toss the condom in the trash, drive home, take a shower. No drama. No strings. No risk.

  But last night had been different. Was it because he’d gotten to know her a little before getting naked with her? Was it because he respected her? Was it because he hadn’t worn a condom?

  Maybe there was something about her—her sense of justice, her mind, the way she made him feel bigger than life when she looked at him, trust in those beautiful eyes.

  Hell, he didn’t know.

  He’d come in from the rain to find her naked, and nothing in the world could have dragged him away from her. She’d been responsive, soft, passionate. Even as he told himself he shouldn’t risk having sex with her again, he knew he would.

  He hated to wake her. She looked so at peace in her sleep, dark lashes on her cheeks, lips slightly parted, face relaxed. The world she would wake to wasn’t peaceful at all, but the sun would be up soon.

  He rolled onto his side, kissed her. “Wake up, princess.”

  She moaned, snuggled against him—then sat bolt upright. “Are they here?”

  “No, it’s okay. But it’s time to get up and get moving.”

  They were already dressed apart from footwear, so he went straight to breakfast, taking out what remained of last night’s MRE and mixing up some cold cocoa to go with their chocolate chip toaster pastry and Skittles.

  She braided her hair and put on her socks and boots. “Everything is still wet.”

  “That’s monsoon season in the jungle.”

  She sat beside him, sipped her cold cocoa, and ate her half of the pastry and Skittles. “This would have been my dream breakfast—back when I was in kindergarten.”

  Connor tried to imagine a little version of Shanti and found himself smiling. “I wanted chocolate chip pancakes.”

  “Chocolate chip pancakes?”

  “That’s what my mom made us for birthdays and on holidays—Christmas, Easter morning, the Fourth of July.”

  “My dad always made us waffles for Christmas morning. He thinks they’re cool—all those little
syrup pockets.”

  This surprised Connor. “He celebrates Christmas?”

  “My father is a secular Hindu. He and my mother taught me to respect all religions as expressions of culture and the human struggle to find meaning in life. We went to Hindu festivals, ate a mix of Bengali and American food, celebrated Christmas and Halloween and Easter.”

  “For us, it was church every Sunday. It never made sense to me, and I’ve seen too much shit since then to change my mind.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m where I’m meant to be. I’m able to do a job most people can’t.”

  It wasn’t an exaggeration. Only about ten percent of the soldiers who tried out made it through the training and selection process to become an operator.

  Finished with her breakfast, she took out the bottle of malaria pills she’d taken from Hatch’s luggage, handed Connor one, and took one for herself. “There’s enough for the two of us for nine days.”

  “We won’t be here that long.” Not if he had anything to say about it.

  While she packed their gear, Connor went down the ladder for a quick recon and to check in with HQ.

  It was Tower who answered. “I need a sitrep.”

  “We’re good. Clear skies this morning, which means we need to keep under cover and move fast.”

  “They mobilized troops from an army base about sixty klicks east of you, so they’ll be on the ground and in the air today. It looks like they’ve set up a perimeter forty miles west and northwest of the crash site. You’re going to have to get through that. Also, the area you’re heading into was the site of the Arakan Campaign in the last world war. You’ll need to watch for unexploded ordinance and other hazards.”

  “Copy that.”

  “You should know that Myanmar has accused the US of sending operatives into the country to interfere with their government. They’re not going to cooperate. Everyone you meet will think you’re the enemy, so avoid locals. You’ve got a major river coming up. They’re going to use that as a choke point. There are only three bridges that cross it, and you can expect those to be under guard.”