The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set

by Cristin Harber

  His eyes crinkled with what she suspected was amusement. “Not very ATF of you.”

  “Maybe Parker didn’t read enough of my e-mails. Right before I left, ATF unceremoniously booted my ass to the curb.”

  Onscreen, Parker threw his hands up. “Shit, I didn’t read everything. I was on a search-term mission. Not to find out about the details of Sugar’s life.”

  But you certainly found enough, didn’t you, Parker?

  Jared’s jaw ticked. “You’re telling me they fired you? Because you helped Titan?”

  “More or less.”

  “Trust me, you’ll have your job back.” He crossed his thick arms over his black-cotton-clad chest. The man couldn’t have looked any more serious, and it made her insides tingle. “Hell, Sugar, might as well count on a raise. If not, ATF’s got another thing coming to them.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not looking for a fix-it. Thanks, anyway.”

  “What the fuck are you going to do? Send out resumes?” If he’d seemed pissed before, he’d ratcheted up to irate. “Skill set—can fieldstrip a rifle, build an AR, and has a decent throat punch.”

  “I don’t know, J-dawg. My throat punches are more than decent. I’d call them effective, given what I was after.” And it had worked. She lashed out at him, he pinned her, and then they jumped on each other in her hotel room. Absolutely effective.

  “Everyone out,” he snarled, and she knew to sit still.

  The screen went black. The knowing looks on the guys and the nosy look on Nicola meant this was just him and her. Their come-to-Jesus discussion was coming way earlier than she’d expected. Fine. Bring it on, big boy.

  Nicola flashed a wink before she shut the door.

  Alone with Jared Westin. Again. She shivered, and the temp had zilch to do with it. Her only excuse for that was fine-tuned feminine awareness. She could’ve done a girly-parts roll call just then, because they’d all shown up for duty, jumping to attention.

  “Sugar.”

  This again? “Jared.” She tried for a casual deep breath, but her lungs laughed at the idea. Not happening. She was dive-bombing into this convo oxygen deprived.

  Jared ran a hand over his cheek, making a rough noise. He’d trimmed back his scruff since she’d touched him last, leaving just enough prickle. Her fingertips itched to test its abrasion.

  “You can’t talk about murdering someone,” he said.

  “I can do whatever I want. It’s retribution.” Sugar pouted her lips and loved how his gaze zeroed in on them.

  “There are rules of engagement.” He surveyed her, perhaps choosing his words for maximum impact. “Kip Pearson was in the wrong, and you’re better than him.”

  Sugar curled her lip. “You don’t know that.”

  “The hell I don’t, baby cakes.”

  He sat down on the couch, dipping her cushion toward him. Jared smelled like soap, spice, and everything so deliciously nice. “That’s not why you kicked everyone out of here.”

  “No shit. You have two minutes to explain yourself. Avoiding and Afghanistan? That’s bullshit. The attitude problem in your hotel room? Start talking.”

  She looked out the window. His room had a better view than hers did, and she needed to focus on it instead of the brawny vision of tactical magnificence in front of her. “Don’t feel like it.”

  He took her chin between his finger and thumb, then turned her to face him. His thumb brushed her cheek, and her stomach shot up and exploded like a Roman candle. “Try again.”

  She swatted his hand away. “Why are you pushing me on this, Jared? Leave it be.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why?” Exasperation poured off her. She needed to push him, shake him, and kiss him like crazy. And that was the problem. Couldn’t he get that through his thick head without a step-by-step?

  Jared let the silence suffocate her long enough that she should’ve run for the door. But she wasn’t going to go down like that.

  When she couldn’t stand it anymore, he continued. “I already told you, Sugar. Something’s burning up between us. Even if there wasn’t, holy hell, woman. Why run from sex like that?” He whistled. “That was some legendary stuff.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” This isn’t working. Heat crawled up her neck, toward her face. Embarrassment made her crave the fetal position.

  “I can get to the truth. There’s not an interrogation subject I can’t break. And with you, baby cakes, I’ll take my time.” His voice was so low that she felt its vibrations. “Imagine the ways I’ll make you talk.”

  She could tell he knew what he was doing. In another couple of minutes, she would want to be in his arms so bad it hurt—more than it already did. She had to go. Now. Sugar stood up. “Would you leave me alone—”

  Back on the couch. Flat on her back. Sex on her brain.

  Jared perched over her, and she had no idea how it’d happened. All she knew was that the scent of soap and spice was making her mouth water. His broad chest and arms caged her to a La-Z-Boy prison.

  “What the fuck is your problem, Lilly Chase?” he growled.

  Lilly Chase. Her name stole her breath, knocking shut her eyes. She tried to regain even a slice of composure, then opened her eyes to stare into Jared’s sinfully piercing gaze. The tornado swirling deep within her belly served as an alarm, sobering her. “I don’t have time for games, Jared. Stop playing on my weakness. I’m getting tired of it.” She shoved. “Get off of me.”

  “I’m your weakness?”

  “As if you haven’t figured that out. Stop toying with me.” She knocked him again. “Seriously, move all this muscle.”

  “Toying?” A slow smile curled into his cheeks. “You think I’m not interested?”

  “I think we both know how to play the game. But I can’t hold up my end of the deal. Okay? White flag. I’m surrendering. Find another playmate.”

  “I don’t want to, Sugar, and we haven’t made any deals.”

  “You know me. I know you. We know the deal. Don’t kid yourself. I’m certainly not.”

  “Explain the deal. What you think you know.”

  “No strings. All fun. Zero feelings.”

  He belly-laughed without releasing her. “You think I’d be lying on top of you, asking you all this crap if that was the case?”

  “Yeah.” She tried to elbow out but failed. “I think you’re having a fucking great time.”

  “Oh, Sugar. Fucking you was a great time. I plan on doing it again.”

  She plowed a fist into his chest. He laughed again.

  “God, Jared—” She tried to pull from under him. No luck. “You want to know my problem? I hate the way I feel about you. I don’t like it, and I don’t want it.” She shook her head against the cushion, angry that things had come to this point. He’d won, like he always did.

  “Why the hell not?”

  She stopped thrashing. “Simple. I don’t trust it.”

  He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “It or me?”

  “Both.”

  Dissolving the distance, Jared covered her mouth with his. Slow and sensual, the licks and kisses defined bliss. Her head swam; she’d never been kissed like that before. He was communicating his feelings and his desires. He rolled his warm body against hers, and everything spun. The room. Her mind. All scrambling her stronghold against him.

  Her senses were alive, and she loved the touch of his corded muscles and growing hard-on. A tangible quality inhabited their kiss.

  Words weren’t necessary. The hot spear of his tongue conveyed his thoughts and emotions. If he wanted to pass along his interest in her, then he could mark that item with a red checkmark. Job well done. Applause for Boss Man.

  Jared delved his tongue again, sending a wave of need through her. Her nipples tightened. Her legs melted, allowing him to nestle closer.

  The man could kiss like he wrote the how-to book. Maybe the kiss would never end. Her fingers knotted into his shirt. If she held him close
enough, maybe her fears would float away, and reality would never set in.

  His lips closed over hers, extinguishing her impossible wish. “Nothing about that kiss said stop.” The deep baritone of his words flittered over her skin.

  “Let’s not do that again,” Sugar whispered. Her mind and heart were at war, and she needed to escape. She couldn’t give in to him. Her heart would break within a second, and she would be a fool. She didn’t believe in monogamy. Neither did he. She didn’t understand why her body and mind were betraying what she knew at an instinctual level.

  Jared sat up, giving her distance. Cool air rushed over her, and the awful abandonment hurt. What? She was a basket case. She had all the makings of a crazy, needy woman. At least she’d been kind enough to warn him. Thank God he was smart enough to heed caution.

  The look of a champion crossed his face. He was used to getting his way. “I’ll give you space. I’ll even let you run away. But, Sugar baby, I’m hot on your trail. You won’t know what hit you.”

  He whistled for the second time and walked away. Wiping her smeared lip gloss, she sat up quickly and collected herself. Hot on my trail? What about when he was done with her? That was the problem. He would be done, and she would be a sad excuse for an old flame.

  ***

  Hours had passed since Sugar had sought refuge in her hotel suite, and now she was being forced out. She was allowed a moment to fortify herself with liquid courage.

  She slammed her shot glass onto the kitchenette’s granite counter at the same time as Nicola did. They both reached for their lemons. The bitterness made Sugar squint, but that was the point—the sour burn of distraction.

  “Nice.” Nicola smacked her lips, tossing her lemon into the trash can. “Can we go now?”

  Sugar grabbed her gloss and applied a fresh coat. Right about then, she would’ve gone anywhere Nicola suggested, so long as it was a diversion from her day. “Yup. Let’s do this.”

  Sugar’s outfit said not only that she wanted a distraction but that she was one. Their ladies’ night would be fun, and she could care less who was in the club. Jared surely wouldn’t be. That would be like storing a warhead at a playground. The two didn’t mix.

  There was a small chance that he would be around, brooding in a hallway somewhere, ready to screw with her head. But while she was wearing her club getup, he was likely to pin her to a wall, and that involved a whole different type of screwing with her. One could always dream… Hell, stop that!

  “Sugar?” Nicola narrowed her eyes. “What’d you say?”

  Lord knows what she’d said. “Nothing worth repeating.”

  “Ha. I bet.”

  Glossy lips and a sexy outfit were in order. Just in case they did a walk-by and found Jared smoldering in some corner. She would keep walking, even if her Louboutins suddenly became concrete blocks.

  They headed out. Hallway, clear. Elevator, clear. No Jared anywhere in sight.

  “You look disappointed.” As she and Sugar exited the elevator, Nicola smiled like she knew the carousel of craziness that was Sugar’s brain on Jared. “Forget him. Let’s go dance.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Uh-huh. And I’m ready for a night by the fire with a book.” Nicola shot her a half-cocked grin. “Come on. We’ll grab a cocktail, scope the scene, and forget about our men.”

  “You have a man. I have a headache.”

  “Shit, girl. Cash is a constant headache. Doesn’t mean we don’t—”

  “Finish that sentence, and this trial friendship is over.”

  Nicola laughed, shaking her head. They walked into the hotel’s club, where the bouncers waved them in without as much as a glance. They were pretty girls heading into a room full of partying billionaires. Letting them waltz in was probably part of the bouncers’ job duties.

  “Jared and Sugar, sitting in a tree…” Nicola spun on her heels, letting the music drown her out.

  Sugar grabbed her arm and beelined to the bar. A gaggle of uber-rich men parted, eyeing her like fresh meat, despite their current arm candy.

  Maybe she wasn’t into this scene, after all. She could be upstairs, talking that UN babysitter into more time with Asal. They could chill out to SpongeBob or whatever the kid was feeling. But it was probably close to bedtime. Dang, what do I know about kids? She could figure out kids if she wanted to. She shrugged to herself, still intent on reaching a bartender.

  Once she got the bartender’s attention, she ordered. “Two shots. Make ’em burn.”

  “Awesome.” Nicola nudged a guy out of her personal space. “Thanking you in advance for my hangover tomorrow.”

  Sugar rolled her eyes. “I’ll take yours if you don’t want it, princess.”

  “Oh, there it is! Just like Jared.”

  The bartender slid over two shot glasses filled with amber-colored who-knew-what. “You two are cute. Really.”

  “Grab your shot, friend.” Sugar pushed it toward her.

  “With pleasure.” Nicola laughed. Then they each downed a shot.

  Whoa. Burn all right. Christ. Sugar breathed out. Her eyes watered.

  Nicola slapped the bar.

  “That’s what I needed.” Not some silly notion of her and—

  “Jared.” Nicola smiled.

  Exactly. Wait. “What?”

  “You get this screwed up look on your face at the oddest moments. It’s gotta be Boss Man. What happened after we left?”

  “He threatened to make my life miserable.”

  “He said that, huh?” Nicola flicked her empty glass and let it slide down the bar. “Probably his equivalent to, ‘Let’s go to dinner. Here are some roses. Can I hold your hand?’”

  The pack of men around them grew tighter. The scorch from the liquor felt great, but the tight quarters made her want to knock a few faces. “Let’s dance.”

  Nicola nodded and shoved a guy who had stepped too close. “Timely change of subject.”

  Feigning innocence, Sugar “accidentally” let an elbow stab at an overly friendly bystander.

  They pushed out of the human testosterone knot and toward the dance floor. Pulsing music. X-ed out dancers with glow sticks. The place wasn’t her definition of party central, but it would get the job done. She could blow off the extra tension, then eventually pass out. With the shots coursing through her blood, surrounded by the thumping of music and the bodies, her body demanded to dance.

  “Over here.” Nicola grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the center, where there was open space.

  Better to be here and not with Asal. She was growing seriously attached to that kid, hard and fast. The same was happening with Jared. She had two people to guard her heart against.

  Hands wrapped around her waist. Probably some oil baron or gulf prince. A jerk of her shoulder caught his chin, and her message that she wanted to be left alone got across as loudly as the awful music. She laughed, and Nicola smiled, blowing a goodbye kiss.

  Sugar laughed. Nicola was a cool chick. She fit with Titan. Maybe Sugar needed more downtime. Who cared that she wasn’t with ATF anymore? After she was home, she could run GUNS and try for something more stable—like not flying to Afghanistan. What was I thinking with that move? Oh, yeah. Avoid J-dawg.

  Until she was home, a few dances, a couple of shots, and off to bed would have to treat her right.

  “This night just got so good.” Nicola grinned from ear to ear. “You’ll never guess who just walked in.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Games weren’t his thing, but Sugar was. The sooner he admitted it, the sooner he could deal with it. Whatever that means.

  Jared looked around the club. Dark walls. Flashing lights. Thumping Euro-bass giving him an ugly headache. Russian mobsters chilled on couches with leggy supermodels. Middle Eastern playboys held court over gaggles of beauty-queen look-a-likes begging for sex. He saw Nicola, and then Sugar.

  No one compared to her. She was a trussed-up brunette working the dance floor, displaying too much flesh for p
ublic viewing. And those moves. A girl who could work a dance floor like that would be even better in bed. Though Jared was more than aware of Sugar’s talent. He’d had a taste and wanted more.

  With a twist of her neck, her thick hair slid over a bare shoulder. She was daring some sexy moves, ignoring the men feasting on the view. Sugar and Nicola had men circling them. Jared was comforted by the knowledge that either woman could knock a guy out and not miss a beat on the floor.

  Possessive need clenched his chest. What he wouldn’t do to break a few faces. Then no one would stare at his girls. Shit, where is Cash? Princess doesn’t need to be eyeball-fucked like that.

  But instead of breaking up their party, he savored the visual. Sugar’s skirt clung to a curvy backside that he wanted to sink his teeth into. After that party parade, it needed a solid slap. His palm could almost feel it.

  A Euro-trash-wannabe stud took a step too close to Sugar. Then another. Fuck that. Jared put down his drink.

  Sugar popped her fist back, connecting with the bastard’s nose, and deep in Jared’s gut, pride swelled. She hadn’t even turned around. The strobe light flashed, and Nicola flicked the air as the man staggered backward, covering his face and hollering. Fuckin’ A. Good girls.

  Content to watch, he settled back onto his barstool, then Nicola caught his eye. She snaked her finger at him. Come hither? That’d be a ‘fuck no.’ But thanks for the invite. Christ.

  Nicola leaned to Sugar, who turned, nodding. And that gave him a much better look at her getup. The dark tank top was melted over her curves. It would’ve been a plain-Jane club-going staple on some chicks, but on Sugar, the way it covered her bombshell breasts, it was an invitation to a fantasy league.

  Grabbing Sugar’s hand, Nicola pulled her toward the bar. Toward him.

  He was transfixed by Sugar’s shirt. If he tore it off, it would do nicely to tie her to the bed with. Her leather boots worked her legs, cupping at her kneecaps—it was only a matter of time before he slid those off and ran his hands straight up under that skirt.

  In Nicola’s blind spot, Douchebag McGee made a move, his hands outstretched. A growl bubbled, and Jared’s instinct to slaughter the dude took over. He was up, on the move, and on them in a heartbeat. Before Jared could inflict punishment, Nicola captured the other man’s wayward wrist in a joint lock and twisted. Goddamn, my girls are good.