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“Don’t call me that!”
He hooked one long arm around her waist and yanked her flush against his hard, muscled—oh god,aroused—body. His cologne filled her senses, sweeping her away in a wave of need.
Panting, she wrenched out of his grip and put three steps between them. He may have long arms, but he couldn’t reach her from this distance.
“I had that fugitive pinned down. I wasthisclose to making him talk.” She held up her thumb and forefinger a scant inch apart. “And you took matters into your own hands.”
He lifted both hands and dragged his fingers through his hair. “I did what I had to do.”
“Not. Even. Close. I had him in my sights. If he’d so much as twitched, I would have put a bullet in him. But you made that call for me.”
He dropped his hands and balled them into fists at his sides. “I was protecting—”
“Me?” She barked a harsh laugh. “I can’t believe Slade Overstreet is finally admitting he screwed up!”
In two steps he had her pinned to his chest again, one arm banded around her back and one cupping her face to hold her prisoner. His dark eyes flickered with ever-changing levels of heat.
In a deliciously low growl, he uttered, “The only thing I admit is that we belong together, Lena.”
He crushed his mouth on top of hers, shredding the anger out of her system at the first brush of hard lips. He angled his head and plunged his tongue inside—seeking, warm and driving her desire up.
She dug her fingers into his biceps. Holding on to him? Or trying to cause him pain?
“Let me…go!” She ripped away from the kiss, but he cupped the back of her head and forced her to meet his stare.
“You’re my wife, Lena,” he bit off in a voice raked over gravel.
“Not anymore. You made me look weak and vulnerable when you shot that fugitive. You embarrassed me in front of my team. I am not weak or vulnerable.”
“I know you’re not weak.” He stroked his fingertip along her nape, raising goosebumps all the way down to her ass and making her nipples pucker.
“Then why treat me that way? And why did you pretend to be drunk?”
“So I could get you alone to talk.” He slid his hand down to her throat and extended his fingers up the length.
Her pussy flooded. Her panties grew drenched. When this man owned her body, he owned every inch of it.
Too bad she’d seen to it that he no longer had that hold over her.
She twisted her head aside, but he pinched her chin and hauled it right back.
“We have nothing to talk about, Slade.”
Black eyes drilled into hers. “I can think of one thing.”
She challenged him with a stare.
“Our baby.”
Ice water doused her senses and his words yanked the rug out from under her. Hell, the very earth felt like it was shaking—or she was shaking apart.
Steeling her muscles, she stared back at him. “Bold of you to assume it’s yours.”
“Oh, it’s mine.” His voice was the gravel this time. “And so are you.”
Slade’s mouth collided with Lena’s. A low moan burned her throat. As if seeking to pull the sound out of her, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth.
Her insides quaked, and her panties drenched. That old, familiar need fogged her senses, leaving her unable to push away from him. To stop this.
