Maverick (Elite Ops 2)
His lips thinned as he lifted Risa closer and watched the lights of the city as they headed back to her apartment rather than the hotel he would have preferred. John had checked the apartment; it was bug-free. The team was watching the corridor that led to her home, and two men were stationed in her room. Nik was still working on the surveillance tapes from the parking garage and trying to figure out how Orion had gotten past their defenses on the car.
They were close; Micah could feel it. Orion had made his first mistake. They now had his DNA and they had more of Risa’s memories than ever before.
Almost there, Micah thought, stroking his hand down her back. They would have Orion, and when they had him, they would have his employer. Just a little longer, then Risa would be safe.
And when she was safe, he would walk out of her life and leave her to the future she deserved. One where she could name her dreams and go after them. Where she would know no more fear, no more danger.
She would be safe.
He would ensure she was always protected and he would start, he thought, by attempting to get her out of this game immediately. At this point he could have her sent to a safe house. There was always the chance that if Orion didn’t see her coming or going from the apartment, he would suspect she was hiding inside and make a move for her when he thought Micah was away. Moving her to a safe house would ensure that her life, her dreams, survived.
But a woman couldn’t have dreams with a dead man, he reminded himself. And Micah Sloane was no more than a borrowed name for a man who had died years ago.
David Abijah no longer existed. He had signed away his soul for vengeance. He had lost the right to dream.
CHAPTER 13
SHE WAS GOING to die of arousal.
Risa stared up at the ceiling as she brought herself awake, aware that her fingers were pushing beneath the loose band of her pajama bottoms, in the process of searching for her own satisfaction as she fought to pull herself out of the explicit, rousing dream that had filled her head while she slept.
She turned her head slowly, biting her lip as she made out the outline of Micah sleeping beside her. He lay on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the sheet pushed to his waist.
His breathing deep and even, he was clearly asleep. His hard abs and chest lifted rhythmically, his breathing heavy and deep. The darkness loved his body. It shadowed it, washed over it, and made him appear even larger, sexier, than he already was.
She wanted to touch him. Her hands trembled with the need, her fingers shaking as she curled them against her stomach to restrain the need.
She was worse than a nymphomaniac, she charged herself in an attempt to shame herself from watching him while he slept.
Her libido was cheering the accusation. God, she couldn’t remember ever being so damned turned on. Not even the night she had humiliated herself in his bed had she been this hot.
She was going to get out of bed and change her panties if she didn’t do something.
Think about something else. Something completely non-sexy. She couldn’t think of a damned thing outside the need to touch him.
Root canal. Deeply rooted survival instincts kicked in with that one. But hell, she had never had a root canal; how was that supposed to help?
She turned slowly on her side, inching around until she stared more easily at his gorgeous body. And it was gorgeous. All hard muscle and male grace. She wanted to flow over him and lick every inch of his body.
She was so demented, perverted, she told herself as she reached out, wondering if just a little touch would wake him up. Just to feel his flesh. The warmth of it against her palm.
She kept it safe. After all, she didn’t want to feel as though she were molesting him in his sleep. But dammit, he was in her bed. This was her bed, and he was pretending to be her lover.
Her pussy clenched violently at the thought of Micah as her lover. The memory of the night he had actually taken her slammed into her mind, and she almost moaned at the need that raced through her.
Her trembling fingers touched his abs, against the narrow band of hair that ran below the sheet. It was silky, warm. The flesh beneath seemed to flex, and her gaze jerked to his face.
His eyes were still closed. His breathing was still slow and easy. She didn’t have the nerve to check his heartbeat, to see if it was slow and easy or thundering, as she knew it did when he was aroused.
Or did she?
Her fingers were moving, sliding up his chest, her heart in her throat as the hard, heavy beat echoed against her palm before she ever reached her chest.
Her eyes closed for a long second. When she opened them, her gaze slid from her hand, down his stomach, to the tenting of the sheet that covered his thighs. She could see his cock, hard and heavy beneath the light material, stretching along his lower stomach and sending a pulse of pure lust burning through her veins.
He was awake. She knew he was; she could feel it. Every muscle in his body was tighter now. Lifting her gaze, she looked up to his face again and saw the glitter of his black eyes through the narrowed veil of his lashes.
He didn’t say a word. She watched as he swallowed, his lips parting to breathe.