Protected by a SEAL: Hot SEALs (Volume 5) (14 page)

She drew in a shaky breath. She wasn’t sure if that was from everything happening with the stalker or the fact Rick was making her feel things inside she hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was ridiculous. She’d thought she’d hated him. Or at least she hated how he acted.

She shouldn’t be so aware of the heat of his skin against hers. His casual touch shouldn’t make her stomach tighten. And she really shouldn’t be picturing him tossing her onto that bed upstairs.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m still pissed at you. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“What doesn’t—” Before Rick could finish whatever he’d been about to say, Sierra fisted his shirt and pulled, bringing his mouth close enough she could crash her lips against his.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose and leaned into the kiss. She felt the breadth of his hands span her hips as he pulled her closer.

Angling his head, he took the kiss deeper.

His mouth was warm. His body against hers reminded her of all she’d been missing during her extended period of self-imposed celibacy.

A moan she never intended, one of mingled frustration and satisfaction, snuck out of her. He responded with a deep grumbling groan of his own and kissed her harder.

He slid one leg between hers, settling in as if he was going to stay awhile. Which had her thinking—why hadn’t he pulled away from her? He should be telling her they needed to remain vigilant in case they were followed. He should be setting up cameras or cleaning his guns or something.

What kind of professional was he? He shouldn’t be fraternizing with the clients. What would the owners of GAPS think of this behavior?

Sierra pulled back from the kiss. “Why are you kissing me?”

Frowning, he leaned back, but he didn’t move his hands. “Because you kissed me.”

She tried to ignore the feel of those big fingers pressing into her flesh. “Yes, but why aren’t you fighting me on it?”

The furrow between his brows disappeared as his lips tipped up in a smile. “Hey, I’m up for hate sex as much as the next guy. What’s the matter, princess? Who are you trying to talk out of this? You or me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” Rick’s crooked smile didn’t last long before his mouth was on hers again. He kissed her hard and then pulled back. “Make up your mind yet?”

She had to swallow the dryness from her throat to be able to talk. “About what?”

“If I’m going to take you upstairs or go make myself a sandwich instead.”

She felt her brow furrow. “That’s the choices?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re saying you’d be just fine if I said go make a sandwich?”

“Sure. I’m hungry and the store had the really good turkey breast, not that fake stuff.” He brushed one thumb over her forehead. “Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles. That’ll probably cost you a good million a film.”

His cocky grin as he poked fun at her didn’t match the physical evidence, the hard length pressing into her as he went back to holding her hips tightly against him.

He might pretend to be immune to the temptation she’d dangled before him. He could say he’d be just as happy with a cold turkey sandwich, but he was lying. His body told the truth.

Rick went from just holding her, to making small circles with his thumbs. His hands were so huge he could reach all the way around to her stomach.

That lazy motion against the thin, skin-tight fabric of the exercise pants did things to her. Made her want his hands in other places. She was breathing heavier. Her pulse pounded.

Her damn body was betraying her by craving the enemy’s touch. She was obviously as into hate sex as Rick.

Fine. As long as they both knew where they stood, there was no problem.

“You can make your sandwich later.”
 

“All right.” His voice was low and throaty, his eyes narrow as his heavily-lidded gaze met hers.

He dropped his hold on her and just when she thought he’d toss her over his shoulder like the caveman he was, and carry her up the stairs to have hot, angry sex with her, he turned toward the door.

Bending down, he grabbed the strap of the duffle and hoisted it onto his shoulder before turning back to her.

So much for the big prelude she’d worked up in her imagination. The man had as much of a hard-on for his weapons as he did for her.

He was so annoying. And frustrating. And . . .
 

Damn, she was totally willing to overlook all of that. At least for the next hour or so.

CHAPTER 16

Duffle bag on his shoulder, Rick swept his arm toward the staircase. “Ladies first.”

She let out an unhappy sounding
humph.
Why, he didn’t know.

What? Had she expected him to sweep her off her feet and carry her up the damn stairs?
 

He had a bag full of guns and ammo as well as sophisticated equipment. He wasn’t leaving all that out in the open downstairs while he was upstairs getting busy with the lovely but annoying Sierra Cox.

He watched her ahead of him on the staircase. That little wiggle that came with every step she took was enough to make him be able to ignore she was still wearing his sister’s pants. He’d remedy that concern immediately by stripping the spirited Ms. Cox of that outfit and tossing her onto the mattress.

Inside the largest bedroom in the three bedroom cottage, which no doubt Sierra planned to claim as her own, Rick slid the duffle bag off his shoulder and set it onto the floor.

Sierra was still moving toward the bed when he caught up with her. He reached out and spun her toward him. She was so tiny in the midsection he could practically wrap his hands completely around her waist.

He pulled her close, catching her gaze with his. “I’m going to feed you while we’re here and you’re going to eat.”

“We’re standing next to the bed and you’re still thinking about food.” She let out a
humph
. “That figures.”

“Don’t worry. I can think about two things at once.”

One dark brow rose. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Rick smiled, shaking his head. “You are such a brat.”

Brat
hadn’t been the B-word he had in mind, but he’d tempered himself.
 

She obviously wanted a good old-fashioned hate fuck and he was just the man to give it to her. But Sierra Cox was as changeable as the wind and one wrong word could change her mind. Send her into a tailspin that ended with him on the wrong side of the bedroom door.

Before she could respond he kissed her hard.

Kissing Sierra was one way to make sure she kept her comments to herself. Rick had another way to occupy her mouth that he’d get to later.

That plan had him throbbing inside his pants.

For now, he was happy to take her mouth, hard and demanding, just as he intended to treat the rest of her. Just like he knew she wanted.

She made that desire apparent when she yanked hard, pulling his shirt out from where it had been tucked into his waistband.

After running her hands up the bare skin of his back, she raked her nails back down hard enough her fingers left a painful tingle behind. Possibly not hard enough to draw blood, but probably hard enough to leave scratch marks.
 

Marking her territory? Or just trying to show him who was boss?

Probably the latter, since she wouldn’t want him for more than a night or two. She was scratching an itch. He knew that.

That was okay with him. He had a few itches to scratch himself.

Sierra pulled her head back. “Take off this damn thing.” She slapped at his shoulder holster.

Rick took a step back and went to work on ridding himself of both the shoulder and the leg holster. “Gladly. You take off my sister’s clothes.”

“Why? You having problems down below because I’m wearing your sister’s clothes?” As she got an evil glint in her eye, the term she-devil came to mind.

“I have no problems
down below
. I promise you that.” And he’d show her as soon as he had rid himself of his weapons.

He slid the shoulder holster off and made short work of pulling off his shirt. He tossed it onto the only chair in the room and turned back to find Sierra’s stare focused on him. She could look all she wanted, as long as she continued to undress while she did it.

So far, she’d only gotten as far as her sneakers and socks as she sat on the edge of the mattress.

He’d have to help her, as soon as he completed the mission of getting himself stripped first.

Rick had a leg holster to deal with and still he beat Sierra in the unofficial race to get naked. She had taken an inordinate amount of time to unzip his sister’s hoodie and she still had her T-shirt and pants to take off. Not to mention whatever treats of the lingerie variety awaited him beneath.
 

In nothing but his briefs, Rick strode to where Sierra stood next to the bed. He’d finish what she’d started, and in far less time than she would on her own.

“Come here. Let me do it.” Reaching out, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Tossing that aside, he moved in for her pants next. One yank had those down around her ankles.

He lifted her by the waist and easily tossed her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce as he tugged the pants off her feet. He took quick note of her pretty pink painted toenails before he moved his attention to more important things—the panties that topped her long, slender legs.

A part of Rick’s subconscious mind remained braced for her mood to change one more time, as it did so easily and often over the short time he’d known her.

That it had been such a short time made it even more insane she’d kissed him and led him up to bed. He could see she hadn’t changed her mind yet. She looked up at him from beneath heavy lids while she watched him slide his hands up her thighs toward his end goal.

Rick slid his fingers over her underwear. The fabric was as smooth and soft against his fingertips as her skin had been.

The damn things probably cost easily ten times what he spent on his underwear. He didn’t want to risk upsetting her should he accidently tear them, so he took his time pulling the delicate panties down her legs.

While kneeling on the bed, he tossed them to the chair with the rest of their clothes. He turned back to her, leaning low, moving over her.

She watched him until he slid his hands up between those silky thighs of hers, all the way to a spot that had her closing those eyes that had been focused on him.

Pressing her head back into the pillow, she hissed in a breath.

Another brush of his thumb elicited a sexy as hell sound from her. It was worlds better than the usual complaints that came out of her mouth.

This encounter wasn’t going as he’d planned—it was far better.

He’d half expected her to be giving him orders throughout the whole damn time he was in bed with her. Like he was some servant paid to please her. She was paying him, but not for this.

She reacted to his every touch. Without comment. Without censure. Without criticism.

Using sex to tame this sharp-tongued shrew he couldn’t help wanting in spite of it all was an intriguing concept, and proving to be a definite possibility.

She was boneless, putty beneath his hands as he spread her legs and lowered his head. When his mouth replaced his fingers, Sierra gasped, lifting her hips, pressing more closely against his tongue.

In minutes, she was trembling beneath his hands.

His own need ramped up in direct relation to her pleasure. He worked her harder until her cries bounced off the ceiling and walls.

He wasted no time pulling himself up her body and plunging inside her wet heat. Her muscles convulsed around him with aftershocks from the orgasm.

As Rick lost himself in the feel of her, it was easy to forget who she was. What she was.

Right now, they weren’t spoiled star and hired protection. They were just a man and woman, taking exactly what they needed from each other.