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“Chaya. ” His lips caressed the words as he drew closer, within a breath of her, forcing her to stare up at him. “Darlin’. Cranston’s gonna get you in a shitload of trouble. You know this, right?”
Oh God, if she didn’t know it before, she was finding out now. She had thought working with Cranston would make her life easier, that the team that worked stateside only would ease her slowly away from the horror of the past and allow her to step out of the world that had begun to smother her.
“Take it up with Cranston. ” She forced the words from her throat as his hand curled around the side of her neck and the dark, sexual light in his wicked eyes began to gleam with intent.
That touch, just like that, the implied power and gentleness of that hold, had her knees weakening. She was a trained agent; she wasn’t supposed to let emotion or lust cloud her judgment. But right now it was clouding her entire mind.
His fingers flexed against her neck, the power and strength in his arm echoing along her nerve endings. Pleasure corrupted her normally logical thought processes and eroded the control she had fought for over the years.
Suddenly, she was in the dark, fighting to breathe through the agony of a hell she couldn’t accept, holding on to only one thing. Holding on to Natches’s touch.
She couldn’t let herself hold on to that memory.
Chaya didn’t bother to struggle. She could see the desire already burning in his eyes, and she knew she didn’t have a chance against him if those luscious lips actually touched hers. She would be lost in him, and she couldn’t afford to ever lose herself again.
“Don’t kiss me, Natches. Don’t do that to me. Please. ”
He froze, those fingers contracting on her flesh, stroking cells that hadn’t known a man’s touch in so very long.
He had no idea how hard it was to turn away, to walk away. How she ached at night, tossing and turning in her bed, the thought of the promise in those cat’s eyes of his burning through her soul. She wanted him with a strength that terrified her.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” he said, his voice low as those fingers stroked against her flesh. “You’re not married anymore, sweetheart. ”
His gaze wasn’t mocking now; it was somber, intense. The memories flashed in his eyes as well, and she couldn’t bear it. It connected them, made it so much harder for her to break away, to hold herself steady as she fought through the never-ending abyss of emotions that threatened to swamp her.
“Because I can’t handle you, and we both know it. Have mercy, Natches. Don’t you have enough women in your little stable? You really don’t need me. ”
And there was no way she would survive it. He was wild, intense, the most wickedly alluring man she had ever met in her life. And he wasn’t the man for her. She wanted him until she ached with a force that tore at her soul, and she couldn’t allow herself to have him. This man, the one who fired her soul, who made her dream when she had no right to dream.
“That’s not a good enough reason. ”
She gasped as his lips covered hers. Sensation exploded through her body; pleasure rippled and waved over her nerve endings and began to burn along her flesh. This kiss, this man, he was like nectar, like a drug she couldn’t get out of her system.
She gasped harder as her weapon dropped to the ground and she felt Natches’s hands tugging at her shirt, baring her, allowing the warmth of the sun-filled air to touch her flesh.
She told herself the perspiration was from the heat of the day, but she knew better. It was from his kiss.
Oh God. His kiss. She flattened her hands against his chest to push him away, but he wasn’t budging. His hands stroked up her back, beneath her shirt, then around, the pads of his fingers at the tender swells of her breasts, covered by nothing more than lace.
Chaya struggled with the war waging within her now. Her body, eager, desperate, it knew this man’s touch, knew his possession. Her heart, her head, was screaming out in warning.
And her body was winning.
“Ah, Chay. ” He nipped at her lips. She loved that sexy little sting and lifted closer, begging for more. “There you go, baby. Show me how you can burn again. ”
She breathed in sharply as his hands slid to her hips, gripping them and lifting her until she was sitting on the hood of the jeep, then lying back, his big body pressing her down as her hands tugged at his shirt.
She should be pushing him away, not baring that gorgeous body. But that was what she was doing. Baring all that hard, delicious muscle. Feeling the rasp of crisp chest hairs against her palms, the dampness of his sweat beneath.
She twisted under him, feeling his knee press between her thighs, and saw stars explode behind her closed lashes as he pressed against the sensitive flesh between her thighs.
“Hell yeah. ” He groaned against her lips as he worked her jeans loose. “Burn for me, Chaya. Just a little bit. Burn for me wild and sweet, sweetheart, just like you do in my dreams. ”
His voice was rough, tight with arousal, and she knew it could become guttural. That his drawl could slur his words and make him sound drunk with passion. She wanted that sound. She wanted him drunk on her.
“Natches!” She cried his name as his hand pushed beneath her open jeans and his fingers found her. Found the slick, too-thick layer of juices that prepared her for him, that betrayed her need.
That need was killing her.
