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Riley

Page 19

by Lori Foster


  Expression darkening more by the moment, Brand asked, “What did you do?”

  “I tripped him to the ground. That made him mad and he grabbed for me again.”

  “To do what?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want to find out, so I grabbed two fingers and twisted enough to break them.”

  “Ouch,” Brand said with smiling satisfaction.

  “He raged and decided it was time for us to go—with my wholehearted agreement. I had visions of the whole assignment going to hell, but it took an uptick when we stepped outside and the same group I was supposed to protect him from was there to mob him. That got him moving quickly to get in the car. On the way, I had to…ahem, assault a man who tried to drag my client back out of the car.”

  “Assault him how?”

  “With my knee.” She struck a pose, showing the knee she’d used and drawing Brand’s undivided attention to her exposed leg. “In a place where no man wants to get hit.”

  Dragging his focus back to her face, Brand winced for real. “I gather that worked?”

  “Like a charm.” At least that night, she hadn’t shot anyone. “When Scott heard the whole story, he tore into the client and his father, and got me a bonus with an apology from the boy.”

  “Man.”

  “Man-boy,” she compromised. “The third assignment was just a matter of escorting a local politician to and from a speech. It went off without incident.”

  “How come you never mentioned any of this before now?”

  “Why would I?” She rarely discussed her background with anyone, because those stories all centered around her missing brother and left her grieving the loss anew. “My history with the agency has nothing to do with the reasons why you should sign on.”

  He turned speculative. “And you’ve been all about getting my agreement.”

  “Yes.” She gave that a quick thought and asked, “Does knowing my history make you more inclined to—”

  “Not really.” Gaze intense, Brand slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders. “You’ve always amazed me, with or without the history report.”

  As he leaned closer—to kiss her, she was sure—she said desperately, “Work for me.”

  Without a smidge of regret, he said, “No,” and then his mouth was on hers, his lips pressing, his tongue touching until she opened.

  The second she did, his tongue slid in and she melted against him.

  God help her, it was incendiary.

  *

  FROM THE DAY he’d met her, Brand knew it’d be like this. Sahara Silver with her classic bone structure, her sharp wit, her beautiful blue eyes and slender body, was almost too stunning.

  He meant to keep his hands on safe ground, but then, he hadn’t meant to kiss her, either. Without really thinking about it, his palms slid over her shoulders and down her back, feeling the soft cashmere of her short-sleeved sweater, the firm resiliency of her flesh beneath.

  She had expensive taste in fashion and always looked like a million bucks. She loved sugary pastry, but far as he could tell, she never gained a pound. No matter the company she kept, be it fighters, senators or twisted criminals, she was always comfortable.

  She had no problem pampering herself, and no problem taking charge of any situation.

  She tasted good, and felt even better.

  But kissing her was a dumb move because Sahara wasn’t for him.

  She wanted him, yes—to work for her.

  She’d chased him—to get his agreement. For her, the hardcore campaign to win him over hadn’t been personal.

  He couldn’t question her participation in the kiss, especially with her hands locked in his hair keeping him close, but when it came down to it she would always choose her brother’s memory, and thus the agency, first.

  The sexual attraction was secondary for her, and that made it not enough for him.

  If his friends Leese, Justice and Miles didn’t work for her maybe he’d take what he wanted before walking away. But that could end up complicating things for the guys who had left fighting for Body Armor, and he couldn’t do that to them.

  Sahara pressed closer, her breasts to his chest, her belly to his dick, and logic nearly flew the coop.

  He lowered his hands to her perfectly shaped ass, toned from the sky-high heels she favored—heels that made her long legs look even more amazing. Scooping her closer, he rubbed her against him, then stifled a groan.

  Two seconds more and he’d be hard.

  Ending the kiss wasn’t easy, not with her tongue dueling with his and all those soft, sexy sounds escaping her. He gentled her, slowed her down and finally freed his mouth. Hoping to make it less abrupt, he kissed a trail over her stubborn jaw to that sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

  Subtle perfume vied with the natural scent of her fragrant skin.

  She tipped back her head.

  Unable to ignore that invitation, he teased damp kisses along her throat before drawing her head to his shoulder. He returned his hands to her upper back, moving up and down to soothe her.

  Against her temple he said, “I’m sorry, Sahara. I shouldn’t have started that.” But he wasn’t sure anything could have stopped him from tasting her. “This isn’t the time or place to get carried away.”

  Awareness drew her back and she stared at him in shock, her blue eyes wide and vague, her lips—now slightly swollen—parted.

  Brand smoothed a tendril of thick, light brown hair that had escaped her pins. “You okay?”

  That got her stepping quickly away. “Yes, of course.” She brushed her palms against the tight material of her skirt over her thighs. “It was only a kiss.”

  For some reason, it annoyed him that she downplayed the impact. “A kiss that had you crawling all over me, and you damn near yanked out my hair.”

  Her eyes widened even more…and then she laughed. “We did get a little carried away.”

  “A little,” he agreed, still nettled. Could she really be less affected than he was? Or was she hiding behind her usual cool persona?

  “I’m fine.” She reached up to remove his sunglasses, then stroked her fingers through his hair. “But did I hurt you?”

  Her touch ignited him all over again. Dangerous. He’d known that about her within minutes of their first introduction. Catching her wrists, he lowered her hands—but then couldn’t let go.

  And she didn’t pull away. After a long look, she said, “We could…discuss this more tonight.”

  Hell of a suggestion, but he’d damn near lost it in her office with Enoch just outside the door. If he had her alone, no way in hell would he be able to keep his hands off her. So he shook his head and explained, “I’m meeting the guys at a bar tonight.”

  One slender brow arched up. “My guys?”

  Did she think she owned them? “If you mean Leese, Justice and Miles, yeah, they’ll be there, but arriving at different times. I think Leese is between assignments, right? And both Miles and Justice should finish up for the day in time to join us.”

  “Us?”

  “A half dozen other fighters, some of their wives. You’ve met most of them.”

  She nodded. “Will you be going to that quaint little hometown place, Rowdy’s?”

  Damn it, did she plan to crash the party? Actually, how the hell did she know about Rowdy’s? He thought about asking her, but decided he’d be better off getting out of there. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

  She waited, but when he said nothing more, she briefly looked wounded before giving him a cool smile. “Have fun then.” She went back behind her desk and turned on the monitor to her PC in clear dismissal. “Do let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.” But he didn’t like being dismissed. “My sunglasses?”

  As if she forgot she held them, she looked at her hand in surprise. “Oh, sorry.” Nonchalant, she leaned forward, offering them to him without getting up, her attention still on the monitor.

  Proving he had a perverse streak a m
ile wide, Brand let his fingers slowly graze hers as he took the glasses.

  Her startled gaze flew to his face, but she only grinned, once again in full control. “Wicked, that’s what you are.” She fluttered her fingers at him. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  And she went back to staring at the screen.

  Left with nothing else to do, Brand walked out. That meeting hadn’t gone as planned, but then nothing with Sahara ever did.

  He knew he’d done the right thing.

  So then why did it feel like he’d been kicked in the chest?

  Don’t miss

  FAST BURN

  by New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster!

  Copyright © 2018 by Lori Foster

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  ISBN-13: 9781488099786

  Riley

  Copyright © 2003 by Lori Foster

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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