Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

Her palms pressed against his bare chest, her fingers curling as she breathed in roughly at the feel of the heat of his flesh, the pleasure against her hands.

The silky mat of chest hair drew her attention as she felt it under her palms. It rasped the sensitive flesh, tickled against it. Made her wonder what it would feel like to have her nipples pressing into his chest.

She couldn’t stop herself; she had to stroke him. Just a little touch.

Her eyes closed as her hands stroked over him. She felt the tight, hard press of male nipples, felt the thunder of his heart racing beneath her hands.

“Yes, Risa.” His voice seemed to come from a distance. “Touch me, sweet. Ah damn, your hands are like silk, love.”

His voice was like rough, black velvet. His hands were on her back, stroking it beneath her shirt. She couldn’t protest. She didn’t want to protest. She just wanted to sink into the heated sensations, the pleasure whipping through her, over her.

She wanted to feel him against her, skin on skin as they had been once before. Her hands slid to his shoulders; her fingers tested the hard muscle there. He was broader than she had thought at the club, more muscular. Harder than she had imagined then.

She remembered the hardness of him.

“Risa.” His head lowered, his lips feathered over her brow. “You’re pushing a damned hungry man here, love.”

He was hungry? She was starving. She felt as though she had never been touched, as though those touches nights ago had been another lifetime. She needed more, ached for more.

“Give me your lips.” His hand cupped her neck. She loved that, the feel of his fingers wrapping around her neck, his thumb pressing beneath her chin. It was powerful and dominant and made her feel feminine, desired.

For this moment, just for a moment, she let herself believe she was desired.

“Micah,” she whispered his name as she felt his lips against her brow, her cheek, her jaw.

A shiver went through her, then a rush of heat as his lips sent swells of pleasure cresting over her nerve endings. Her lips parted, ached. His kiss, she needed his kiss, just one more time.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “I won’t take this time, love. Tell me what you want.”

> If only it was love. If only she could make sense of the emotions that rose inside her, the needs she couldn’t control.

“Kiss me.” She told him; she didn’t beg. She didn’t hear a plea in her voice; she was certain of it. God, if he didn’t kiss her soon…

A groan sounded at the side of her lips; then he was there. His lips slanted over hers and that dark magic sucked her in again.

Was it the drug already in her system that did this? Or was it the man? He was dark magic all on his own. His kiss was addictive. That was the drug, not the Whore’s Dust. She could bear the arousal until he touched her. Until his lips were on hers, and then she was lost.

She was lost now. Her lips parted for his tongue. She tasted coffee and male heat; it might as well have been an aphrodisiac, because now all she wanted was more. She wanted it badly enough that she arched against him, stretching into his body, her arms twining around his neck as she tried to follow his kiss, tried to find a way to satisfy the need for more when she had no idea how to still the need to begin with.

“Sweet.” His lips drew back; he pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, held her head still, and pressed another to her jaw as she heard a sudden ringing blaring around her.

Her eyes opened as she stared back at him, dazed, uncertain where the sound was coming from.

“Morganna and Clint.” His thumb ran over her sensitive lips. “It’s a couples’ day out. They’re going with us.”

“They are? Why?”

“Couples’ day out,” he stated again. “Morganna and Raven put that on the list. All serious couples hang together, you know. When a man is thinking forever and marriage and all that good stuff, then he develops married friends. We’re lovers, remember? Serious lovers.”

“He does?” Raven hadn’t told her that. Of course, she hadn’t discussed couples, marriage, and forevers with Raven, either. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He released her slowly. “Go dress. I’ll entertain them while you do; then you can entertain them while I finish dressing.” He pulled a T-shirt from the chair behind him, and she couldn’t help but watch as he pushed his arms into it and tugged it over his head.

“Go.” He turned her toward her bedroom, then delivered a light, surprising tap to her rear as he pushed her toward the door. “Hurry, or they’ll believe we were otherwise occupied.”

She flushed. They were otherwise occupied. But she went to her bedroom, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it weakly. She really wanted to be otherwise occupied.

Even more, she wanted to be otherwise occupied with Micah in ways that she knew would only destroy her world further.