Hostile Territory (Blackbridge Security 1)

“Where did she go?”

Anna shrugs. “Who knows? She said she was going to blow off some steam when I told her that Nikolay was still alive.”

“Can I come in?” She hasn’t budged from blocking the door, but I can tell she’s upset.

How Dani treated her and everyone around her hasn’t changed, but I can see that there’s something different in her eyes, as if, just maybe, Anna can finally see through her friend’s bullshit. I know it took me years and hundreds of miles of distance to see the real her. It wasn’t a pretty realization for me, and I know it won’t be for her best friend either.

Anna steps to the side, allowing me entry, but she doesn’t reach for me when I pass. God, how did this woman get under my skin so easily? When did frustration being in the same room with her transition into needing to touch her just because she’s near?

“How did she take it?” I could walk across the room and get comfortable on the sofa, but she doesn’t move, so staying close to her is my only option.

“She seemed relieved at first, like she was happy that she hadn’t killed someone, but then she was terrified. She said he’ll kill her if he finds her.”

Her chin quivers, and I can tell she’s scared for what this may mean for her friend, but also because Dani has endangered her as well.

“Hey.” I lift her chin with my hand, forcing her to look up at my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Man, I wish I could keep the promise, but I’ve already failed her more than once. People wanting to hurt her have gotten close more than once, and it guts me to think the next time I may not be there to protect her.

“She doesn’t even care about the trouble she’s caused for me.” True sadness fills her tone, but I know now isn’t the time to explain that Dani is just being Dani, and she shouldn’t expect more from her friend.

“I care,” I say instead. “I care what happens to you.”

Her eyes search mine, and I don’t know what she sees, but whatever it is it has her letting the door snap closed and her feet carrying her closer to me.

I wrap my arms around her, tugging her against my chest. My nose immediately plants into the top of her head so I can breathe her in.

How do I tell her I missed her warmth? How do I explain that she feels a million miles away when we’ve been right on top of each other the last couple of days?

I can’t. I don’t. I simply hold her tighter and relish the feel of her body against mine. I need this woman like I need air, and that spells a million kinds of trouble for me, but I can enjoy this one moment, this one blip in time where we have no other problems, where there is nothing that can cause us problems.

“Anna,” I whisper when she takes a step back and looks me in the eyes.

She swallows, her eyes focusing on my lips for a second too long to mean anything other than what I want most.

I don’t hesitate, lowering my mouth to hers and pulling her back against my chest where she belongs.

She clings to me like she doesn’t want to let me go, and a fire I can’t ignore burns inside of me.

“Off,” I grunt, pulling my mouth from hers and lifting the hem of her dress until it’s over her head and tossed to the side. “Fucking perfect.”

My hands immediately pull down the cups of her lacy bra until her tits are spilling over the top. She moans low in her throat when my tongue strikes at the pebbled tip of her right breast.

“Come here.” With sure hands, I grip her ass and lift until her legs are wrapped around me and I don’t have to practically bend in half to get to her.

She squeals like she’s afraid I’m going to drop her when I spin to sit us on the couch, but the laughing stops abruptly when my fingers dig into her ass and my mouth explores her chest.

I’m in heaven with her fingers digging into my scalp, egging me on. Her hips roll and I hate that I’m wearing jeans, even if I can feel the heat between her legs like a scorching fire. I want to be against her naked skin, inside her tightness.

“Wait,” I hiss, my mouth popping off her breast and hands lifting her a few inches over my lap.

I just want to look at her, maybe slip my fingers into the slickness that’s darkening the fabric between her thighs, but she has other ideas. When she reaches for the button and zipper on my jeans, I let it happen. I even lift my hips so she can maneuver the denim down my thighs, but I draw the line at letting her slip out of my lap so I can get them all the way down. I’ve never hated the time it takes to take off combat boots more in my life, but we’ll manage. She doesn’t shove my boxer briefs down. She’s perfectly content to slip her little hand inside the fabric and wrap it around my shaft.