Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(17)
Author: Catherine Mann

His eyes held on her hair. On her mouth.

She lost her footing on… nothing really. The ground was flat. Her balance was just wonky.

God, she hated her lack of experience with men. Oh, she’d had sex plenty of times. Starting with blow jobs on guys at those horrid cotillion classes and moving on from there. She’d kept trying until she’d figured out she just wasn’t good at relationships. After a while, it just wasn’t worth the effort.

Until now.

Brandon placed his hand on her waist. The air snapped like lightning chasing across the ocean, looking for land.

Confusion shifted through his eyes. Then was gone.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine”—sorta, not really, damn it—“just tripped over a, uh, dog toy.”

“Good thing I was here to catch you.” His hand fell away. “But what about the burgers you wanted to grill? And if you’re coming along with me, who’ll watch the dogs?”

If she came along?

He wasn’t rejecting the idea outright.

“The hamburgers will keep just fine in the fridge and we can hit a drive-through on our way.” Did sharing a Big Mac in his truck count as a date? “And I have a list of college students who’re willing to sub at a moment’s notice for extra money.”

“We could get back late.”

“They’re college students. Late night is their specialty.”

“Right, all-night study sessions.” When he smiled, the cleft in his chin called to her finger to tap it. “I should make those calls before we go.”

Her skin tingled. They were really going to work together on this, hang out with each other beyond passing the time over dogs. She had exactly what she’d wanted since first meeting him.

Her gut twisted as she realized he was also everything her mother would have wanted for her. Handsome. Smart. He wasn’t a doctor, but he was a war hero, and her mom would have been thrilled at the notion of him in uniform on Catriona’s arm.

Except, ugh, her mother’s approval should be the kiss of death. Better to think about all the times she and Brandon had talked while their dogs played in the surf. He wasn’t just a guy who wore a uniform.

He was a man. An interesting, attractive man.

She refused to be like her mother, only looking at the surface. Brandon was more than a uniform. More than a “catch.”

And he was completely too David Beckham–hot to ever look at her that way.

Her chest went tight. She was far from Posh Spice. More like a mustard seed.

Her confidence evaporated as she neared the house and considered locking herself inside as she’d done for the past seven years. Considered. And resisted.

Even if this was only about tonight, she wouldn’t miss out on the chance to be alone with Brandon.

***

Liam pulled over onto the shoulder of the road, behind a row of palm trees, and killed the headlights. Finally, he was certain they were not being followed. They were safe, for now at least. Late-night traffic whipped past, headlamps streaking through the night as if there hadn’t been a freaking life-and-death car chase on a bridge less than five minutes ago. At least none of the cars was her blue SUV with a dented front fender.

Until…

There it went. Her SUV with the vanity license plate on the front and scrapes down the side. Then it was gone. Past them and down the highway, police cars on its tail.

She relaxed back in her seat. “Liam, I am sorry to have dragged you into this mess.”

His fists gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he clenched his jaw. He forced himself to relax enough to speak. “I’m glad you did, because now it ends.”

“You can tell them it’s not my imagination.” Her joke fell flat.

But then, he wouldn’t have laughed if she’d been a Grade A stand-up comic right now. Damn straight, she wasn’t imagining anything. While he admired her grit, he couldn’t find anything inside him except a deep rage and intense need to haul her close, safe. To hell with the past six months.

His arms closed around her and this damn well wasn’t about comfort. She didn’t pull back. She stared up at him, her pupils widening before her gaze fell to his mouth. They’d kissed before, briefly, and he remembered the taste and feel of her. Although no memory compared to the reality of having her in his arms again.

Just like before, he dipped his head toward hers, waiting for her to object, but she still looked back at him steadily. Her fingers curled around the back of his neck, then up into his hair, urging him toward her. Yes. The bands snapped on his restraint. He slanted his mouth over hers, taking in the softness slicked with mentholated lip balm. They were both hyped-up and sweaty and there was no way this kiss could go further out here. They couldn’t afford to just hide forever. But for one crazy-ass moment here, touching her made the roar in his mind recede.

She was so wiry and strong, sometimes he lost sight of how soft she was, how curvy in all the right places. How much of a firecracker turn-on she became when she focused that attention on him. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, farther down and under his uniform, under his T-shirt, nails digging into his back.

His senses went on overload, taking it all in. The press of her br**sts against his chest. The scent of his shampoo in her hair…

And oh, God, her hair. The sleek glide of her ponytail through his fingers sent electric shocks bolting straight through him, making him hard and hungry for more of her. He would give his left nut to be somewhere truly alone with her where he could explore every inch of her body with his eyes, his hands, his tongue, until she was turned inside out from wanting him as much as he wanted her.

But they weren’t somewhere else by themselves. And they were barely alone here.

The sound of cars, a honking horn, a crack of thunder, and finally he remembered where they were. Thought about what they were doing now and what they’d almost done right here on the side of the road in front of God and the late-night traffic. He gripped her elbows and eased her arms from him, her close-cut nails scoring a long, arousing path down his back before her hands slid free from his shirt.

She moaned and pressed herself closer. To hell with the garters on his mirror. “Don’t stop…”

He folded their hands together between them. “We have to get back to base. To safety.”

“Oh, my God, you’re right.” She pressed her palms to her face. “This is insane. I’m sorry for losing control like that.”

And he’d put her at risk right now by indulging a need for her that hadn’t dimmed one bit in six months.