Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

He would die to protect her. There had been no one in his life, outside of his parents, whom he would have consciously walked into death for. For this woman, he would.

She swayed before him like temptation itself. Her arms lifted, her hips moved, and all he knew was the remembered feel of her moving beneath him.

His hands touched her, stroked down her back, along her hips. He turned her and her back rubbed against his chest as his hand flattened on her stomach, pressing the sweet curves of her ass into his cock.

She twirled with an exotic allure.

She owned him.

He could have danced with her forever. He was perfectly content to remain locked in time, right there, with the vision of her dancing just for him.

And he would have until the moment she collapsed against his chest, laughter falling from her lips as her light brightened with self-amusement.

“My legs are giving out,” she laughed. “I don’t think high heels were made for this.”

Laughter. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, the first time he had seen that happiness shining in her eyes, and he felt his heart clench. It was the most beautiful sight in the world. A gift he would always remember.

“I’ll hold you up.” He held her against his chest, moving more slowly to the music, taking her weight and cuddling her against his chest as her arms moved to wrap around his neck.

She rested against him, swaying with him as his head bent over hers and he closed his eyes at the sneaking suspicion that walking away from her was going to flay his soul.

Her fingers played along his neck, a finger twining through the short strands of hair at the back of his head. Her nails scraped his scalp. She was a flame in his arms, seeping into his pores, chaining him when he had no desire to be chained.

“I need you.” He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear and felt her shiver. “All of you.”

“Hmm.” Her head lifted. “You had me and wanted to send me away,” she reminded him. “You’re not the weather, Micah. You can’t change from day to day on me.”

His lips quirked. “Do we want to fight tonight, Risa? Or do we want to love?”

He hadn’t meant to whisper the l word against her lips. But at the sound of it, he felt her body tighten; he swore he could feel the wash of her need singeing his body, cutting into it like dull knives as he fought the sensation.

“Love?” His shoulder cradled her head as she looked up at him. “I’m certain that wasn’t the word you meant to use, Micah.” There was a subtle, almost hidden vein of bitterness in her voice.

His lovely Risa. She had never been loved, not truly. She’d been used, she’d been hurt, but she’d never had love to balance the darkness that had filled her life.

He couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t give her hope where no hope should exist. He had to remember what came after the mission. And what came after was another mission, another danger, perhaps another identity. There was no place for love in that life.

Noah had done it, another part of him reminded himself. Noah had a home, a wife, he would soon have a child, and he balanced that life. But Noah was the nephew of the unit commander. It made a difference.

“Does the word I use matter?” Micah’s hand framed her face as he bent his head to her. “I won’t wait much longer, Risa. You don’t give a man a taste of paradise, then jerk it away from him.”

“Really?” Her head lifted, her arms slid to his shoulders. “But you can give it to a woman and then tear her away from it without a thought, can’t you, Micah?” She stopped moving and tried to draw back.

Micah held her to him, frustration and arousal biting into him as she tried to put distance between them.

“I think I need a drink—”

“Risa, is that you?”

Micah’s head jerked up; his nostrils flared in primitive anger at the sight of the man standing at their side. He wanted to push Risa behind him, wanted to get her as far away from this primal threat as possible.

“Mac?” Amazement and laughter fell from her lips as she turned to the other man. “Oh my goodness. Mac Knight? Look at you.” Her hands reached out for his, large hands that gripped her smaller ones before the other man pulled her close for a hug. “Look how you’ve changed,” she breathed out in surprise.

Micah’s teeth almost snapped together as the younger man’s chest seemed to puff out. Dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt, he was military; there was no missing that. The way he held himself, the look in his eyes, screamed Special Ops.

“How I’ve changed?” Mac’s smile was amazed as he stood back and stared down at Risa. “Damn, Risa, you look like a million bucks.” He shook his head as though amazed before asking, “Dance with me? Just for a few minutes?” He looked to Micah as though in permission before his gaze turned to Risa again.

Micah wanted to slam his fist into the bastard’s face.