Den of Mercenaries: Volume Two

by Miller, London

  “Mm. Wanna help me build a boat?”

  “Is that what that thing is in the garage?” she asked, standing.

  “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He led her downstairs and around to the makeshift workshop. The long pieces of wood she’d noticed the first day were all lined up neatly, one of which was set up on a table with a sander next to it—that explained all the dust on him.

  “How long have you been building this?” she asked, running her fingers over the smooth surface.

  “Going on two years now.” He grabbed another tool she couldn’t identify before coming back over to her side. “Ready?”

  “I doubt I’m terribly good at this.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he said as he took her hand. “As long as you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

  “I’m not a delicate flower, you know.”

  His arms came around her, grabbing the sander and pressing it into her hands.

  “I’m getting that, babe.”

  He placed his hands over hers, guiding her movements as she moved the sander over the wood. With each pass, she slowly understood why he enjoyed this.

  It was easy to lose herself in the rhythmic routine of it all. They worked in comfortable silence for a long while until he paused long enough to smooth away the dust.

  “What made you want to build this?” she asked, turning to face him.

  He tossed the sander down, placing his hands flat against the table on either side of her. He seemed to contemplate his words before he answered. “When I was kid, I used to go down to Kaihuna Beach on the weekends and take a canoe out on the water with my buddy Kai. He was obsessed with the things and wanted to build one, but,”—he shrugged, his gaze going far away as if he was lost in a memory—“he never got the chance. I’m building this one in his memory.”

  She touched his arm, offering comfort as much as she could. “It might not be finished yet, but I’d bet he’d love it anyway, especially once it’s finished.”

  This had to be, above all else, the most personal thing he’d ever shared with her.

  His gaze fell to her lips and she knew what he was about to do before he leaned in, but she wouldn’t have stopped him even if she wanted to.

  She went up just as he came down, his lips brushing hers before he deepened the contact.

  After last night, kissing him shouldn’t have been better—it couldn’t possibly be better than that first time—but she felt it down to her toes.

  She expected it to end there, but she was acutely aware of the way his hands drifted down her spine, one cupping the swell of her butt, the other gripping her thigh with surprising strength that made her gasp against his mouth.

  Was this what falling felt like?

  The breath leaving her lungs. Her heart thumping rapidly in her chest.

  If it was, she would happily fall for him.

  Chapter 9

  Ada rarely drank hard liquors.

  Wine was usually her alcohol of choice, the buzz a far more pleasant experience than the time she’d drank Tequila and immediately regretted it the next morning. After the experience, there was never a time when she could blame liquor for a bad decision she made.

  But tonight, she wished there was something for her to blame as she walked up the stairs, her heart in her throat as she ignored her own thoughts screaming for her to go back downstairs.

  She wasn’t thinking of the consequences of her actions or whether he would turn her way once she found him, but the spark she’d felt after that kiss and the ensuing tension … she just couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  He’d felt it too.

  She saw it in the way his eyes had trailed after her when they’d been in the room together, or the way his touch lingered longer than usual when he’d brushed by her.

  She’d tried to ignore the growing interest she’d felt for him since the moment they had dinner together for the first time, but she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She didn’t want to—she wanted to see whether the promise she saw reflected in his eyes would live up to her imagination.

  But now, as she stood at the cracked door of his bedroom, she wasn’t sure how to proceed. She’d never been the one to initiate before, especially not with a man like Keanu who made butterflies flutter in her stomach at the mere thought of him.

  Standing here, she had a choice, just as she’d had before going off to Uni, and even after when she’d accepted the job with the firm.

  She could go back downstairs, pretend she hadn’t had a lapse in judgment and force herself to go to sleep, no one the wiser.

  Or she could raise her fist and knock.

  Except—

  The door swung open before she could finish the thought, Keanu taking up nearly every inch of the doorway.

  Had he known this moment was inevitable as she was starting to think it had been? She held her breath, wondering what he would say, but he didn’t say anything at all.

  His expression matched the way she felt.

  Tense.

  Unsure.

  Hungry.

  Standing across from him, Ada didn’t think she had ever been more aware of him than she was at that moment—from the way the veins in his forearms stood out more as he clenched his hands or the dilation of his pupils as his gaze swept over her, seeing what she was wearing.

  She’d dressed with him in mind, knowing he liked the green lingerie that the robe she’d tied loosely barely concealed. She wanted him to see, to know, that she wanted him.

  There was something decidedly masculine about the way his tongue slowly licked across his bottom lip, as if he were imagining tasting her and enjoyed every second of it.

  But no matter the look he gave her, he still hadn’t said anything—he hadn’t touched her or dragged her into his room like she’d been expecting. They stood there, mere inches apart, staring at each other.

  Was this—

  “You’re thinking too much,” he said, voice gone low in that gravelly tone that never failed to make a shiver rush through her.

  “I don’t want to think about any of it,” she whispered in return.

  Not the price on her head or the people searching for her and ready to kill her as soon as they found her. And as selfish as it sounded, she didn’t want to think about what tomorrow would bring and the responsibility she had for her family.

  She wanted to be free.

  “Then don’t,” he replied simply. “If you want to forget about everything that isn’t you and me right now, in this moment, then do it. What happens in my bed won’t affect anything outside of it.”

  “Okay,” she said without hesitating. “I want to forget.”

  She thought he would take her right then and there, but instead, he merely stepped aside, allowing her a view of the bedroom behind him—an invitation if she wanted to accept it.

  In three steps, she was walking by him, entering the one room in his home she thought she would never see, though even as she glanced around, she didn’t pay attention to anything other than the bed that held her complete attention.

  For a heartbeat’s time, he simply stared at her, seeming to weigh a decision in his mind before he reached back and eased the door shut.

  Her answer.

  Excitement quickly replaced the emotions swarming inside her, and not even a moment later, she reached for the ties of her robe.

  He was suddenly there, moving her hands away, leaving it gaping and exposing the lacy jade colored bra she wore beneath.

  He seemed to appreciate the sight at least, his gaze rapt and unblinking.

  Of all the lingerie sets she had brought along with her, this one was by far the sexiest—one she had ordered from Agent Provocateur during one of her shopping sprees.

  Made almost entirely of lace, it left little to the imagination and served no other purpose than to put her breasts on display in the best way possible.

  She knew how she must have looked, wanton and eager, but she didn’t care so long as he kept
looking at her like that—like she was a pristine doll he couldn’t wait to break.

  As he undressed her, stripping her of the robe and tossing it carelessly over his shoulder, he turned her so she was laying on her stomach. Her fingers clenched in the sheets of his bed, gripping tight, not prepared in the slightest for the electric jolt that swept through her when his lips touched the top of her spine.

  Gentle at first at he drifted lower, then more pronounced as she suddenly felt the sharp bite of his teeth.

  A stunned gasp left her, heat pooling between her legs the closer he got to her hips.

  He didn’t bother actually getting her naked, merely hooked his thumb around her panties and jerked them to the side, exposing her damp flesh to the cool air. She didn’t have the chance to feel embarrassed that he was staring at her so blatantly, not when he made an appreciative little growl in the back of his throat before he stroked his fingers over her, teasing and light. Only enough to force a breath out of her.

  One finger stroked over her, then a second was added before he rubbed slow circles over her clit causing that ball of tension to coil even tighter, but before it could take her over completely, he eased those fingers back and down and slowly slid them into her.

  “Fuck, you’re going to be like a fist around me.”

  His brows might have been drawn together as if he was in pain, but he made it sound like he was looking forward to the moment when he was inside her.

  But he didn’t rush to get inside her just yet.

  Instead, he eased those two maddening fingers in and out of her, each thrust going deeper than the one before it.

  At some point, the rational side of her brain had switched off and the only thing she could think about was the need that consumed her body. She wanted her hands on him, feeling his strength beneath her fingertips, the stubble at his jaw when he kissed her.

  She didn’t wait for him, instead reaching and pulling him down, kissing him with every bit of naked desire inside her body. His tongue found hers, flicking against hers. But in the next breath, as he shoved his fingers deep and rubbed them over the spot inside her no one else had ever done, she wrenched her mouth free to cry out.

  He eased the onslaught on slightly to ask, “Are you gonna come?”

  Jesus, if he kept going like this, easing those thick fingers inside her, burying them deep before rubbing over her clit with his thumb, she didn’t think she’d last another minute.

  Keanu seemed to realize this the moment she did because he eased his fingers out of her, leaving her breathlessly empty and desperate to have him back inside her.

  Before she could muster a protest, he was sliding down her body, his face disappearing at the juncture of her thigh to hip, his teeth scoring her skin as he moved closer to her center. His hands came up to cup her breasts before he jerked at the cups of her bra, tugging them down until he’d exposed her.

  He didn’t ease his way into it as she’d been expecting, rather swept his tongue from her clit, down and back up again. There was nothing gentle about the way he ate at her, tongued her flesh as if he were desperate to make her come.

  “Oh God, please.”

  The words exploded out of her, making his hand squeeze around her thigh harder in answer. He knew what she wanted, what she was too shy to outright ask for.

  It only took him closing his lips around her clit and sucking hard for the dam to burst and for her orgasm to sweep through until her fingers were buried in his hair and her back was clear off the bed.

  It was too much.

  It wasn’t enough.

  She’d barely come down before he was easing off her, swiping his forearm across his mouth before he started working on his jeans. Unfastening the button and jerking the zipper down to expose the dark trail of hair low on his stomach that disappeared into the dark denim.

  All she saw was the thick root that he fisted in an entirely masculine way that made her breath catch. Once he eased those jeans off and kicked them aside, he knelt on the bed in front of her, giving her her first real look at him completely naked.

  He looked like a god in this position—the tattoos darkening his flesh, wavy hair hanging free over his shoulders. Everything about him drew her in like a moth to a flame and she never wanted to look away.

  The sight of him poised between her thighs nearly took her breath away. And the contrast they made between her pale thighs on either side of his hips and the burnished gold of his skin was intoxicating.

  She watched, enraptured as he gripped his cock, running his fist up the length and back down again. He was big all over, she thought with a jolt of unease and fear. It had been ages since she’d last been with a man and even the last one hadn’t been nearly as thick or as long as Keanu.

  “I’ll go easy,” he promised in a voice that made her core clench.

  But a small part of her wasn’t sure that was what she wanted. What was he like when he fucked with abandon? That was what she wanted—she wanted to know what he was like when he lost control.

  He aligned himself with her center, pressing the scorching tip of his cock directly against her flesh before shifting his hips just enough to rub himself there, coating himself in her wetness before he shifted just enough to reach that notch at her opening and eased inside her.

  She couldn’t help but wonder how he could possibly fit inside her, but even if it took him ages, he was determined to work his way inside her, slowly filling her inch by inch until all she could possibly think about was him.

  The pain was sharp and immediate, the tight stretch enough to make her nails dig into his shoulders.

  “Easy,” he whispered at her ear, hooking an arm at the bend in her knee and spreading her wider. “Just let me—”

  But he didn’t have to explain the rest of what he did next, not when the next roll of his hips sent a bolt of pleasure so sharp through her that her head kicked back against the bed.

  “Like that?” he asked as he did it again, this time a little harder and a lot deeper.

  Now, she was clutching onto him, holding him close so he couldn’t get away. She could practically feel the smile on his face, the blatant arrogance he felt practically bleeding out of him, but she couldn’t fault him for that—not when he made her feel like this.

  His mouth blazed a trail down the hollow of her throat, sending her higher, a breathless moan escaping her.

  The crest hit her in waves, sweeping through her slowly, then all at once before she was tossing her head back, the orgasm rushing through her, triggering Keanu’s release as he pumped into her once, twice, then buried his cock to the hilt.

  When his gaze came to her, dark and brooding, Ada knew he wasn’t finished with her yet.

  *

  Hours later, she smiled absently at the back of Keanu’s head, tracing the lines of the tattoos down his arm, starting at his wrist and making her way back up to his shoulder.

  She never thought she would enjoy the weight of someone as big as he was on top of her, but laying with him was comforting

  “These must have been terribly painful to get, weren’t they?” she asked softly, her touch stopping on one of the tattoos on his back. “Did you get them all in one sitting?”

  “Left side first over three sessions. Right side a few weeks later. It wasn’t so bad.”

  Except when they got toward his spine, she imagined. That was the worst she’d always heard.

  “To never forget where I came from,” he added.

  “What was it like growing up here? I’ve always imagined it was paradise everyday.”

  “It had its good days,” he said vaguely, even as she heard the nostalgia in his voice.

  She thought of asking him more, but another question hit her suddenly. “Was it hard?” she asked, “Choosing to work for a man like the Kingmaker?”

  He shifted a bit, getting more comfortable. “He was a different person then. Less stubborn.”

  She glanced down at him though he couldn’t see her expression. “
Is that the only adjective you think describes him?” She could think of three others off the top of her head.

  Cruel.

  Terrifying.

  Intense.

  “You know,” he said, smiling before pressing a kiss to her side, “he wasn’t always so bad.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” She couldn’t imagine the man who’d boldly stared her down and threatened to remove one of her limbs without so much as a blink as anything other than a well dressed monster.

  “This life changes you—sometimes for good, sometimes for bad. You’re lucky if you get to see the end of it, but it doesn’t always mean you make it unscathed.”

  “But you’re not in it, are you? This life? You’re a freelancer.”

  “I got out in time.”

  “But now you’re back in?” she asked.

  “Not even remotely. I took on a special case.”

  And how happy she was about that now. “D’you miss it though?”

  “Sometimes I wonder why I ever did it all. Other days … I miss the thrill of it.”

  “Why’d you quit, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Priorities,” he said, though he didn’t say much more than that. “Glad I did, or else we wouldn’t be here now.”

  No, they wouldn’t.

  And God if she wasn’t happy about that.

  Chapter 10

  Ada wasn’t sure what woke her, but as she blinked her eyes open and felt Keanu’s arm tighten around her waist, she knew something was wrong.

  The fear she’d felt weeks ago when she was taken from her office came roaring back, seizing hold even with Keanu beside her. He could take care of himself and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, but that didn’t stop her from worrying as she watched him slip out of the bed without making a sound, then pulled on his jeans before grabbing a wicked looking knife she hadn’t realized he kept under his pillow.

  “Stay there,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he crept across the floor to the bedroom door.

  But as he slipped out of it, she couldn’t very well just lie there and do nothing while he took all the risk.