Razor's Edge (Shadow Stalkers 1)

“I do have it good.” She set her elbow on the counter, then her chin in her hand. “You do realize, don’t you, that I never could have done what I did last night with any other man? I can’t even imagine throwing myself at anyone else. Even with Steve, I waited for him to make the first moves. I was always afraid I’d stir up more than I could handle.”

Jack forced himself to breath deep and easy, trying to slow the rapid beating of his heart. “I was rough with you. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re in love. And I loved every moment with you. I wouldn’t change one thing that happened last night. I told myself I was strong enough to take you on, and now I know I can.” She smiled gently. “That’s not a surprise is it? That you’re in love with me?”

“No. I knew.” He watched as something hot and tender swept over her face. “I also know loving someone means wanting what’s best for them. I’m not good for you.”

He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “Hear me out. Any minute now, my phone could ring and I will have to go. Christmas, your birthday . . . I can’t promise I’ll be here. Once I leave, I won’t always know when I’ll be back. One of these days, you’re gonna wake up and realize you want someone around full-time.”

Rachel straightened. “I’ve been getting by on my own with Riley for two years. I don’t need a man around just because. I don’t have any problem going to bed alone. What I want is you. Not some interchangeable guy; not someone like Steve. Look at it this way: I already have the cake. You’re the icing on top, with sprinkles, candied fruit, and chocolate drizzle.”

“And I’m just as bad for your health,” he muttered.

“I want you going straight to my hips. I want the sugar rush and the toe-curling deliciousness. I’ve earned it.”

She licked her lips and his dick went hard, remembering what that mouth had done to him when he’d stepped out of the shower that morning.

Taking a deep breath, Jack laid it out there. “You’re asking me to risk losing you and Riley completely. I can live with what we’ve got now, but nothing at all . . . I don’t think I’d survive it.”

Rachel rounded the counter. “I’m deliberately keeping this light, because I don’t want to scare you off. I’m saving the heavy stuff for later, when you can’t run. I was thinking you should be handcuffed to the bed before I tell you that you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life and I’m the last woman you’re ever going to bed with.”

She walked right into him, hugging him tight. He had to restrain himself from squeezing her too hard. God, he was crazy for even thinking this could work.

“In the meantime,” she went on, “we’ll start with a race to see who can acquire the most frequent-flier miles by the end of the year, and work from there. Week by week, you’ll learn that not being able to live without me means living with me. Eventually, you’ll get used to not being alone and we’ll both become familiar with this new take-no-prisoners version of myself that you inspire.”

“You’re making this sound easy,” he murmured with his lips to the crown of her head, “but it’s not.”

She leaned back to look up at him. “No, we’re going to have to work on it and make some sacrifices and take risks. What I’m saying is it’ll be worth it. The difficult part’s already over—we both fell hard. It’s onward and upward from here.”

“Take no prisoners.” He shook his head and a small laugh escaped him. God, he was scared shitless. He didn’t know how to bring something precious and fragile into his life.

“Except for you.” Her hands slid up his back. Her lips whispered across his jaw.

Jack lifted her feet from the floor. “I want to be good for you.”

“You have been. You are. You will be.” Her teeth scraped lightly over his earlobe, sending a surge of heat and longing through him. “I’m going to show you all the ways I’ve grown stronger because of you. Because of things you’ve done for me and said to me. Because of how you look at me. For a long time, I didn’t understand why you look at me the way you do, but I knew you saw something in me I wasn’t seeing. I can’t tell you how many times thoughts of you motivated me when I wasn’t sure I could get something done.”

He kissed the top of her shoulder, which was bared by the asymmetrical shirt she wore. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“I’m setting my mind to returning the favor. Together, we can overcome anything—our pasts, your job, a long-distance relationship. I’ll send you Better Than Sex cupcakes to tide you over between days off.”

“I thought we established that the name is false advertising.”

“God, did you ever,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “But I enjoyed your argument so much, I’d be happy to have you repeat it.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. Right now, he had all he’d ever wanted. They would plan the next steps together. After that . . .

Onward and upward, she’d said.

Jack’s arms tightened around her. Onward and upward.

Keep reading for a preview of the next book in the Shadow Stalkers series by Sylvia Day

TAKING THE HEAT

Available now from InterMix

Two explosions rocked Deputy U.S. Marshal Brian Simmons on August 15 at 4:32 in the afternoon: the first was the sight of his perennial wet dream, Layla Creed; the second was the detonation of a launched grenade.

Brian heard the whistling of the approaching explosive a second before the projectile hit one of three Chevy Suburbans waiting to transport Layla from a safe house to the Baltimore/ Washington airport. Lunging forward, he tackled her to the ground, shielding her with his body with only seconds to spare.

The blast radiated from the point of impact, sending a surge of heat roiling over them. The shock wave jolted her slender body and he curled around her, clutching her tightly. The ringing in his ears was deafening, dulling the sound of Layla’s screams. But he felt them. Felt them vibrate against him.

Shrapnel rained down. Fire licked at the soles of his shoes. He scrambled to his feet, pulling her up and hauling her back into the apartment building. His ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton, his focus narrowed by the instinctive need to get Layla to safety.

Layla.

Withdrawing his service weapon, Brian steered her with a firm grip on her elbow. They bypassed the elevator and slipped into the stairwell. He glanced up, momentarily considering the viability of returning to the room she’d occupied the night before. Then, he pulled her down toward the subterranean garage.

The safe house had been compromised. At least two deputies had lost their lives, one of whom was a friend he’d known for years. He wasn’t certain who he could trust, and with Layla in the crosshairs, he wasn’t taking any chances. Hard-driving possessiveness pushed him forward. She kept up; her fingers linked tightly with his as they thundered down the stairs.

They burst through the metal stairwell door into the garage. A forest green Honda was backing out of a parking spot to their left and Brian stepped behind it, withdrawing his badge and identification from his pocket.

He met the gaze of the female driver who gaped at him through her rearview mirror. “I need you to get out of the car, ma’am.”

A harried-looking brunette climbed out from behind the wheel, her widened eyes on his Glock. She held both hands up, her purse dangling from the bent crook of her elbow.

He holstered his weapon and handed her his business card. “Call that number and they’ll get you squared away.”

Grim-faced, Layla slid into the passenger seat without prompting.

Brian was pulling out of the garage when the wail of sirens announced the arrival of the local authorities and fire engines. He could see the black plume of smoke as he hit the freeway on-ramp.

• • •