Under Fire (Elite Force 3)

If she was completely legit, it was best she didn’t know the details of how he would clear out with Rachel. And if Sylvia was following her own agenda? Then he intended to make sure she knew as little as possible about how he left this place.

Honest or not? He would figure that part out later.

Either way, right now, he had to wake up Rachel and disappear.

Chapter 8

The earthquake rumbled again, rattling Rachel’s bed.

She pushed through the layers of fog, desperate to wake up and make her way to safety before the roof caved in on top of her. She needed to get underneath the furniture or to a doorway.

Except none of that made sense, because she wasn’t in the Bahamas anymore. She was in Florida now, rebuilding her life and her nerves.

But she could swear Liam was with her, the scent of him, the intense energy he brought into a room. Something that hadn’t changed in six months apart, something that haunted her dreams.

And oh God, how her dream felt so erotically real right now. She was in bed. With Liam. His whipcord-lean body over hers. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, anticipate the feel of his mouth on her skin.

Her legs thrashed at the covers, tangling in the sheets, her long T-shirt riding up until the canvas texture of his uniform abraded sensually against her bare legs. Want rippled through her until she arched her back to press more firmly against him. What harm was there in indulging herself in a dream?

“Rachel.” His raspy voice stoked her fantasies.

The man could talk her to an orgasm with the husky suggestiveness in the way his tongue caressed her name.

“Liam,” she moaned, and oh God, she really had spoken out in her sleep. The veil between sleep and reality became translucent, the two worlds blending. Fear gripped her that if she woke up, she could lose this chance to have Liam, even if only in a dream realm.

She twisted her fingers in the sheets to hold on to the nighttime delusion a while longer, long enough to assuage the ache between her thighs. Completion hovered so close, until the need to finish clawed through her painfully. It had been so long since she’d wanted someone this much.

Since losing Caden, infrequent sex had merely been about release. This craving for Liam went so much deeper… and just the word deeper made her want more. Now. Fantasies were private and unlimited…

She threaded her fingers through his hair, testing the texture. Damp? From rain? Details intruded on her dream state until—

“Rachel,” he hissed in her ear, his hand clamping over her mouth. “Shhh. Wake up and stay quiet. And for God’s sake, quit moving like that.”

Okay, domination was not her idea of sexy.

Her eyes snapped open. He loomed over her, tall and lean, his tensed body covering her. His leg pressed between her legs, and it was all she could do in her half-awake state not to wriggle against the sweet pressure that should have faded in light of whatever was going on.

A low moan of pleasure slipped from her lips anyway.

His hand stayed clamped over her mouth, gently, but unmistakable in its message. His chest pumped against her with ragged breaths. His head dipped toward her. She swallowed hard, and God help her, if he kissed her right now, she wouldn’t stop him, and to hell with anything else. Her body arched into him before she could think, much less stop herself.

His voice caressed her ear. “Rachel, honey, you’re killing me here.”

The hard length of him pressed into her hip, letting her know he hurt every bit as much as she did from this unconsummated attraction. As much as she wanted to lose herself in the moment, in the answering heat radiating off him, reason began to filter through.

“Liam?” she whispered. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“You have to trust me and stay really quiet,” he answered softly. “We need to leave without alerting anyone. Now. Get dressed fast and follow me out.”

Passion turned to a frightening burn. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

She nodded under his hand and he rolled off her fluidly, sitting on the edge of the bed with his broad back to her.

A big black gun was strapped to his waist alongside a knife.

Oh God.

She slipped from under the covers and padded to her small bag quickly in the shadowy room. There was no time for modesty. Still, she turned away from Liam. She whipped the overlong T-shirt over her head and yanked a T-shirt and jeans from her backpack. He stepped up alongside her so quietly she almost yelped—then remembered the no-talking edict.