Live Wire

PROLOGUE

Elite Operations Base

Alpine, Texas


She was a vision of beauty.

Too f*cking young, but her eyes weren’t those of a twenty-four-year-old. They were the eyes of a woman who had seen too much, who had known too much danger, too much pain.

Jordan watched as she went through the strenuous training maneuvers the Elite Operations backup team was putting her through and wondered how the hell he was going to say no to her.

She wasn’t strong enough to match the Elite Operations agents in physical strength or endurance, but she was more than a match for them in speed and ingenuity.

“She has no place to go, Jordan. She’s spent her life running from her father and her brother. She doesn’t have the education or the job skills to step out of this life. This is all she has.” Kira Richards stood beside him, the former CIA asset somber, persuasive, as she attempted to smooth over the anger Jordan knew he wasn’t hiding.

He’d arrived at the training facility to check the status of his nephew, now known as Noah Blake, as well as the other operatives that were part of his Elite Operations command. He hadn’t expected to find this tiny sprite of a woman with masses of red hair, haunted green eyes, and a too sad face sparring with the nephew in question.

“Elite Operations isn’t an orphanage, Kira,” he reminded her, careful to keep his tone cold, emotionless.

He couldn’t show the chink he knew this young woman had put in his defenses the first time he had met her two years before in Aruba during the Diego Fuentes operation. The operation involving Kira’s now husband, Ian, and his father, Diego Fuentes, had been rife with danger. And there the girl had been, desperate to end the life of death and misery her father had been waging to find her for nearly twenty years.

Her eyes had been shattered then, filled with desperation and fear that the plot to bring down the terrorist Sorrel wouldn’t succeed.

But she had been game. She’d thrown everything she had into revealing the identity of the man who had destroyed her mother and who had tried to destroy her.

“Elite Operations isn’t an orphanage, but we owe her,” Kira reminded him forcefully. “You know we do. Besides, she would be perfect in base operations. She knows communications, she knows how to organize things. Give her a chance.”

He glanced at the woman at his side. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Make it happen. That was what she was saying. Just make it happen.

“You’re a contract asset for the Ops, Kira,” he reminded her. “This isn’t your decision to make. Nor is it up to those men out there.” He waved his hand at the training room viewed through the two-way mirror he stood behind.

“The whole team has more or less adopted her, Jordan,” she informed him. “You can’t get out of this. If you don’t take her, then the backup team will.”

He grimaced.

Hell, he had very little control over the Elite backup team. He couldn’t order Reno or Clint to do shit and he knew it. But he owed them, and he knew that as well. Just as he knew that if she were working with them, it would be a damned sight more dangerous than being confined to the Elite Operations base would be.

“She would fit in perfectly as your personal assistant, as well as mine, in communications,” Kira went on to say. “We’ve been in operation long enough that you know we need someone to fill that spot. Give her a chance, that’s all she needs.”

She would be perfect to make him crazy, that was what he knew. The few times he had been in contact with her, his blood pressure had nearly gone through the damned roof, and his cock had nearly burst from his jeans.

The need to f*ck her had been so damned overwhelming that for the first time in years Jordan had considered breaking his own rule. Never f*ck or become close to his female operatives. He knew better, just as he knew the outcome if the past remained true.

Losing one of them posed the risk of too much distraction. It was a distraction he could ill afford when the lives of the entire team depended on his ability to think straight.

She was eight years younger than he was, she was looking for a life, for a battle to replace the one she had fought for so many years. The battle to bring her terrorist father to justice. But he knew the dangers of not letting her in, the danger to her, and that terrified him.

Sorrel’s allies would find her and exact vengeance for the terrorist and white slaver’s death. The thought of the hell they would put her through before they killed her was enough to give him nightmares.

He knew the risk to himself as well as the team in letting her become involved. She was young, she had no official training, other than what she had received in her desperation to survive over the years. She was an impulsive redhead, and she was weakness personified.

“She’s not Catherine, Jordan. She’s not a field agent, and she has no desire to be one.”

And of course Kira would know exactly why he didn’t want her there.

Jordan turned away from her. She had known Catherine, though not very well. Hell, they had worked for the same damned agency in the same line of work. Except Catherine hadn’t survived it, because of him. Because he hadn’t been able to protect her and the unborn child she and her husband had dreamed of having. Because she had been a close friend, and when she had placed herself in a situation he hadn’t been prepared for, he’d dropped the ball.

“I never said she was Catherine,” he stated coldly. “I said we’re not an orphanage. Bringing her in would be a risk.”

“But you’ll bring her in,” she demanded, but with just enough respect that he couldn’t deny the request out of pride. She was right, Tehya was a perfect fit for the Elite Ops, but she was a distraction to him. And that made her a danger.

Jordan sighed heavily. The knowledge of the debt he owed Kira, her husband, Ian, and Ian’s SEAL team was never lost on him, either.

Together, they had saved his nephew, dragged him out of hell, and even now they worked to heal the wounds inflicted on Noah’s soul.

Besides that, there was also the fact that they were a working unit now. Elite Operations and its backup team was a cohesive unit, and throwing a wrench in the works over their choice of a base member wasn’t in his best interests.

It was the woman in question, and the risk she posed, not so much to the unit, but to his own self-control. The woman who had haunted him since he’d met her in Aruba two years before.

“Bring her in.” He heard his voice harden and he knew that the fact that he didn’t agree with the choice wouldn’t be lost on Kira.

“That’s all I needed.” Satisfaction filled her voice, and when he turned to look at her, he saw the amusement in her soft gray eyes.

“This is a mistake, Kira,” he informed her, knowing the anger was slipping past his careful control.

She stared back at him, her lips quirking as an unholy gleam of wicked laughter sparked in her gaze. “Why? Because you get hard for her? Think of it this way, Jordan, she’ll add a little spice to your life.” Despite the flippancy in her tone, understanding filled her gaze.

“I don’t need spice in my life.”

“Sometimes, that’s exactly what you need to live again,” she said gently. “You’re like Noah, almost dead inside. Catherine wouldn’t have wanted that for you, and I know her husband, Killian doesn’t. She was your friend, Jordan, not your albatross.”

As he watched her walk away he felt the familiar guilt, reminding himself that even Kira didn’t know the truth.

He was the reason Catherine was dead. And he would never let himself forget that. Because of it, he refused to involve himself in the lives of his agents refused to allow himself a lover he worked with. Especially Tehya. Because she did make him hard. Harder, faster than any other woman in his life.

He turned back to the two-way mirror that provided a view into the training room and watched Tehya again. He had let her into the Ops, but he would never let her into his bed, or into his life.

And he swore he would never let her into his heart. Though, his fear was, she was already there.

Six years later

“Evenin’, Da.”

Riordan Malone Sr. looked up from the marble gravestone and his silent good night, his fingers caressing the sun-warmed stone as though he could reach the woman fate had taken from him so many decades before.

Wild Irish and soft as a summer morn, his Erin had given his life meaning, then she had given him two sons that a man could be proud of.

Courageous, brave, strong sons.

His eldest, Grant, may have been forced to appear less than honorable, less than courageous for a while, but he had done it to protect his own sons, and the sacrifices he had made were no less than Riordan Sr. would make himself.

His youngest son, however, the one his wee Erin had called her mini-Rory, he was the one Riordan was perhaps the most proud of.

“Jordan.” A smile tugged at Riordan’s lips. His son always approached him as though he were never certain of his reception. As though he were unaware of the power of a father’s love.

He watched as Jordan moved across the small cemetery, his long-legged, powerful form tall and strong as he walked up to his mother’s grave.

Riordan watched as Jordan touched the top of the stone lightly as he had done for so many years. In the gesture, Riordan saw things, sensed things he knew his son would never be comfortable with him knowing.

He saw a son’s regret, a man’s aching loneliness, but even harder to observe was the flash of weariness. Jordan was growing tired, and that was dangerous for a warrior.

“I miss her.” Riordan patted the stone gently as he turned his gaze from his son and stared at the marble instead.

She was his talisman, his Erin. She had been his boyhood dream, his teenage love, and finally, she had become his wife. The mother of his sons, the foundation of his soul. She’d made him swear to linger on this earth without her to see to the happiness and safety of her boys. And he’d done as she asked. He had pushed himself through each day with only that purpose in mind.

This son, ahh, but this one, he tested an old man’s strength.

He looked toward Jordan’s truck before bringing his gaze back to his son. “You’ve not brought young Tehya with you, then?” he asked.

Jordan’s jaw tightened as it always did whenever Riordan asked about the girl. As though Jordan somehow thought that if he didn’t speak of her, then he wouldn’t feel for her.

Riordan almost chuckled at the thought, but he doubted his son would appreciate it. Jordan rarely saw any amusement in his denial of the feelings he refused to show.

“She’s packing.” There was a snap to Jordan’s voice that had Riordan’s brows lifting in surprise.

He nodded. “You told me last month she would be.”

He was saddened to see that team coming to an end. They had given Jordan purpose, Riordan had often thought. And their leaving meant young Tehya would be going, as well, and that, he feared, might be the breaking point for Jordan. Without her, he feared his son would become that cold, unfeeling shadow he so seemed to want to become.

“I have a few things I have to do after everyone’s off base,” Jordan all but growled. “Do you need anything before I leave?”

Riordan shook his head. “Noah and Sabella, they take care of things.” He nodded toward the house. “Those children of theirs may give me gray hair, but I’ll be fine. I was just about to bring the groceries inside though.”

He had to grin as he thought of the miniature Nathan, or rather Noah as he was known now. Noah and Sabella’s eldest son was already the image of his da, though he had enough of his mother’s features to hide the fact he was one hundred percent Malone. Noah Blake, unknown to the world, had been Nathan Malone, Navy Seal, husband, son, grandson. Now, he was Noah Blake, husband to the wife Nathan Malone possessed before his “death.”

“I’ll get them,” Jordan said, before glancing down at the tombstone once more.

Ah, the boy had more than groceries on his mind.

Disappointment lanced him, though, as rather than speaking Jordan turned and walked toward the truck.

Watching, Riordan sighed as his son collected several bags and headed to the small cabin beyond.

“Such stubbornness, Erin,” he sighed. “He takes that after you, lass. I was never such a hardheaded man.”

He knew that if she were still standing by his side, she would be rolling her eyes in amused disbelief.

That had been his Erin.

“Ah, lass, when will he see?” he asked her softly. “Irish Eyes, he has them. He’ll never be free from her now.”

Only since the redhead had arrived at the Elite Ops base had Jordan gotten that bright sapphire color to his eyes. Irish Eyes.

They revealed more than his son would have preferred. And Miss Tehya … well, she was the cause right enough. Riordan knew his boys, and he knew their hearts. Just as he knew Jordan’s heart belonged only to that young lass.

Jordan could pretend he cared nothing for that young woman till hell froze over, but he couldn’t fool his father. He was suffering from his stubbornness and his denial. And the suffering wouldn’t ease, it would only grow worse until Jordan accepted it.

“What do we do now, Erin?” he asked. “How do we save our boy now?”

He’d been asking his wife that question for far too many years.

His fingers stroked over the stone as Jordan returned, his gaze now calm, though icy cold.

Yes, this was how Jordan handled all those pesky emotions he refused to allow himself to deal with. He froze them out.

“I’ve got to head back, Da,” Jordan told him. “Is there anything more you need?”

Riordan shook his head slowly. “Is there anything you need, Jordan?”

Jordan’s jaw clenched. “No games today, Da,” he warned him.

Riordan chuckled. “I’d like to see the lass before she’s out of our lives forever,” he said. “Once she leaves, Jordan, she’ll never come back without your invitation. I’d like to tell her good-bye.” And he’d like to assure her she always had friends, and a home to run to should she need it.

Jordan looked away for a long moment before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll let her know,” he promised, and Riordan almost grunted in mockery at the promise.

He let his boy get away with it, though. Riordan would find another way to get the message to her before she left.

When the truck had sped away, Riordan turned back to Erin’s grave.

“Far too much like you, my love,” he whispered again. “Like talking to a brick wall.” He smiled at the memories. “But a fine woman you were, Erin.”

And God knew, he missed her.

He missed her until he felt withered, lost without her as he struggled to keep his promise to her.

“Work on him, love,” he finally sighed. “Lead him in the right direction.” This time, his fingers clenched on the stone. “I’m ready to come home to ya, Erin. Help me, just this one time.”

He’d never asked it of her before, but he was damned tired.

It had been far too many years since he had seen her, far too many years since he had loved her.

He was ready to go home.

* * *

She was a vision of beauty.

Standing in the dim light of the silent communications room of the Elite Operations Alpha Base in the heart of Big Bend National Park, Tehya Talamosi looked like a woman awaiting the lover who would fulfill her naughtiest dreams. A lover who had waited far too long, and left her far too lonely if the expression on her face was any indication.

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course. Tehya was awaiting a lover who would fulfill dreams of forever, not simply those of lusty, heated sex. Tehya was a happily-ever-after woman, and he didn’t have happily-ever-after inside him.

Jordan Malone had accepted that long ago. That acceptance had sent him to the SEALs, and life as a SEAL had taught him that nothing lasted forever, and a man never let himself make friends he couldn’t bear to lose, or to have lovers that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

Some rules were broken day by day, but while he was in the SEALs, those were the rules he had lived by.

As the commander of Elite Operations One—the Elite Ops as they called it—, he’d remained true to one rule only. Never let himself get close to his operatives. Only one had been close to him, the nephew he had nearly lost before he’d entered the select, secretive organization.

And he’d almost broken that rule a thousand times over with this woman.

He watched her, the deserted communications room, for some odd reason, a perfect backdrop for the fact that she was barely dressed. That she was walking around looking like sex personified.

They were the only two team members left on the base now, and they both knew it. They had known it the moment the last operative left the base earlier that day.

She stood proud in the central cavernous center beneath the metal catwalk he stood on now and stared below. She would know she could dress down, dress up, or dress not at all, and no one would be aware of it but him. If he saw her. But he was supposed to be in his suite, not here, watching her from the shadows.

Not standing here, aching for her, his gut clenched with such need that he felt as though the agony were rocking through him, the denial f*cking killing him.

She was barefoot, dressed in a black silk gown that dropped to her ankles, the tiny straps barely holding it up over her full breasts. She made him so damned hard his dick felt like iron.

She made him so damned hungry for a taste of her that he actually ached with it. His balls tightened painfully and his cock throbbed in demand. A demand that he go to her, that he touch her, that he take her to his bed and just f*ck her. F*ck her until the hellish hunger burning inside him was sated, and the clawing need eased.

Instead, he forced himself to simply stand there, to do no more than watch her.

She stared around the room, her gaze touching on the silent computers, the darkened maps, the blank expanse of screen where satellite images had once been displayed.

And she looked lost. She looked as though she didn’t know where to turn, or where to go now that this part of her life was over.

Elite Operations One was done. The last agent had fulfilled the eight-year contract he’d signed. Several had been under twelve-year contracts, but they were finished now as well. Five men had gone their own way to live their lives in the sheltering hearts of the women who had ultimately saved them.

And where the hell did that leave him? Where did that leave Tehya?

She had dedicated six years to the Elite Operations. Pulled in at the age of twenty-four because of her contacts overseas, her practical knowledge of communications, she had eventually been given the code name Enigma. She’d been a last-minute hire, a decision made more by the agents than by Jordan, and she had immediately completed a team that hadn’t known they weren’t whole.

If it had been left up to him, she would have never wasted those tender years of her life within this mountain. She wouldn’t have wasted her life staring at computers, or immersing herself in the lives and the missions that had been played out beyond the steel and cement walls surrounding them now.

She should have been living. She should have gone to college, married, and had a house full of babies instead of hiding on the secretive, secure base of Elite Operations One.

As he watched her, she pushed her fingers through the long, heavy strands of red-gold hair that fell to her hips. He rarely saw it unbound anymore. For years she’d kept it in a tight plait, or a ponytail.

Had she worn it loose during the past years as she did tonight, then he wondered if he could have kept his hands off her for so damned long.

That hair tempted, it teased, it dared. And Jordan wasn’t a man that could turn his back on a dare.

In the six years she had worked with the Elite Ops, he’d done his best to stay the hell away from her, but he couldn’t deny she had made herself an integral part of the unit.

Tehya was the backbone of the communications center, along with Kira Richards. She had also acted as his personal assistant, and he’d be damned if he could think of anyone who could have fulfilled that job nearly as well.

It was Tehya who kept the files intact, mission information flowing, his coffee hot and plentiful, and his dick spike hard.

It was hard now. His balls tight and throbbing, his muscles tense with the effort to stay the hell away from her, to ignore the silent invitation he saw in her eyes too often.

It was an invitation he wouldn’t see any longer after the sun rose on a new day. She would be heading out, leaving the base to begin a life of her own. To learn how to simply be Teylor Johnson, a woman who had spent her life working in the back offices of a central database company. One of those nameless, faceless drones that other workers rarely if ever saw, but whom they depended upon for the various files and information she was responsible for. This was her new identity, the safety net Jordan had created for her.

She would be out of his life though. And hell if he knew how to handle that thought.

As he stood watching, Jordan’s fingers clenched when she turned, her lush hair moving in a wave of silk that tempted his fingers to tangle in the long, rioting curls.

Those long strands swayed around her as she slowly shook her head and sighed. A slow, heavy sound of regret before she turned and left the dimly lit room, unaware he that he was observing her, unaware of the hunger that tightened his expression.

There had only been a few times he had ever come truly close to Tehya. She had gone covert with him several times because of her ability to hack her way into any system and her overseas connections. During those times they had been forced into close proximity, so close that more than once they had been forced to share a bed.

Needless to say, he hadn’t slept much on those missions. And he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, knowing they were alone, and he could have her.

She made him f*ck hungry. He lived in a hellacious haze of lust at times, so damned hot for her it was all he could do to keep his cock in his pants.

He was haunted by fantasies of her naked, her eyes dazed with lust, her face flushed, as he teased and tempted and sated the lust that he knew would explode between them. Imagining her creamy flesh flush, her eyes dilate and darken. Her hips arching, p-ssy saturated with her juices, swollen and clenched tight, as he worked his dick inside her.

His nostrils flared at the fantasy he couldn’t ignore as the heavy steel door below slid open. It closed behind her as she passed through it, heading for the resident suites farther up the mountain.

The communications room was on the deepest level of the base. Ten stories beneath the mountain above them, heavily secured and completely hidden.

Residential suites were located just a single story beneath ground level, each set of rooms outfitted with a bedroom, bathroom, and small sitting and meal preparation area. The Elite Ops agents were well taken care of. They were the heart and soul of the nongovernment, nonmilitary, secretive group of undercover operatives. Operatives who were now gone with the exception of himself and Tehya.

Jordan had seen each operative off with a sense of envy that even he couldn’t deny. Despite his determination to remain single and to remain a doting uncle, brother, and son, he’d been envious of the lives his men had waiting for them. The wives, the children. The freedom to laugh and to love.

It was a freedom Tehya hadn’t sought out, though each year he had lived in fear that she would, wondering if he could let her go when she made the request.

Hell, letting her go now was something he was finding impossible to do. He was the reason she was still here. He had kept her busy, kept her working, ensuring she had been delayed and the last to leave. Ensuring he didn’t have to release his grip on her until the very last possible second before the new team moved in to take over the base.

And why had he kept her there? He’d avoided her this entire, final week. He’d watched her from afar, jacked off at night when the f*cking lust was close to breaking his control, and kept telling himself he could let her go.

And still, he was fighting it. Still, he was trying to find ways to hold her here when he knew he had finally run out of time.

Shaking his head at the futility of the hunger tearing at his control, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants and finished his final inspection before leaving himself.

The next morning would see him walking away from the base, perhaps for the last time.

He had the option of returning and heading the new team, with the new commander working as his second in command. Killian Reece had no problems with Jordan assuming command of the base and operations.

It was a decision he had less than a month to make. He could go another twelve years or he could back off, find a place for himself within the world as a civilian and find a life.

The only problem was, he couldn’t imagine life outside this mountain, without Tehya running his life to some extent. Without her tormenting him with her pert smile and sassy-as-hell comebacks that made his dick harder than hell with the need to f*ck her into submission.

Son of a bitch.

He shifted the hardened length of his cock as he stepped into the elevator at the end of the steel and iron walkway and pushed the button for the residential level. The thought of her leaving had that need ripping through him with a force that damned near cramped his dick. He had the urge to go to her, to jerk her to him, lift her, wrap those incredible legs around his hips and pound into her.

She would walk out those doors when morning came and he intended to ensure he never crossed her path again. But God help him, would he make it through the night without pouring himself into her?

He doubted it.

He had every intention of going straight to his own suite, he assured himself. Every intention of ensuring he didn’t tempt himself further where Tehya was concerned.

Instead, he found himself at her door. Dick hard, pulse pounding, his body tense, unrelenting, in the pure addictivelike hunger pouring through his body.

He hadn’t told her good-bye. It would hurt her if he didn’t say something before she left in the morning. He couldn’t do that to her.

He couldn’t do it to himself.

Pressing his finger to the button that would announce his presence, he waited. Rather than her voice coming over the small intercom, the metal door slid open instead.

And there she stood.

The black silk flowed over her full breasts. The long red-gold hair spilled around the creamy perfection of her face.

She was thirty years old, but she barely looked twenty-five.

Vivid emerald-green eyes watched him warily, but the nipples beneath that silk hardened, peaked, and pressed against the material as though reaching for the hungry depths of his mouth.

Damn, he should have gone straight to his own suite. He should have never stopped.

He was going to do exactly what he had told himself he wouldn’t do.

He was going to f*ck her.

“Jordan.” His name was a caress on her lips. The soft, sultry sound was filled with an aching huskiness, a question, a hint of hope.

“Are you packed?”

That wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to reach out and rip that damned gown off her body, push her back into the room and thrust into the sweet, hot depths of her p-ssy.

Damn, she would be tight. She hadn’t had a lover in the six years she had been with the unit. He knew she hadn’t. He’d kept such close surveillance on her that he would have known the second she had so much as entertained the thought.

She’d given her life to the Elite Operations, and what did she have to show for it? She had no family, no friends, no connections or roots. He was throwing her to the wolves and Jordan knew it.

“I’m packing,” she finally answered as she turned away, but not before he caught the flash of hurt in her eyes. “Is that all you wanted?”

Hell, no, it wasn’t all he wanted.

Soft, supple leather covered the couch and recliner that faced the wall-mounted combination television\computer screen. A small lap table sat at one end of the couch, the wireless keyboard and computer accessories aimed for the screen.

A colorful western throw was laid over the back of the couch. A cup of tea sat on the coffee table, still steaming, as she moved back to it.

A bookshelf filled with books covered one wall. Interspersed with the books were small figurines she’d been given over the years for Christmas or her birthday. Tiny, collectible dragons. Pocket dragons, she called them. It was the only thing Tehya collected. Whimsical, fanciful, the complete opposite of her life.

She hadn’t packed them. The books were still on the shelves, boxes in front of them with only a few books enclosed.

“You have a ways to go,” he said as he looked around.

The room was incredibly neat. Even the packed boxes were stacked in neat little piles awaiting morning and the team that would load her belongings and transport them to the storage facility she had requested they be taken to.

“I’ll be ready on time.” She shrugged.

Those wild green eyes flicked over him, making his cock harder, reminding him of all the things he couldn’t have. All the things he refused to allow himself to have.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t have her. He could, and God knew he wanted her until his body felt on fire from the need. But he knew he would only end up destroying both of them if he took her, if he allowed the dominant possessiveness that rode him to have free rein.

“What do you want, Jordan?” she finally asked as she sat down on the couch, one leg tucked beneath the other as she wedged herself into the corner of the cushions. “You’re standing there as though you should be doing something. There’s nothing left to do anymore.” And the regret in her voice echoed through his entire being. As did the loss. He could hear it, feel it. The loss of something neither of them had been allowed to experience.

No, there wasn’t anything left to do.

He felt his jaw tighten as he fought back the need to go to her, to push her back along the leather cushions as he came over her.

Five seconds, he thought. He could have her laid out on the couch, that piece of nothing gown she wore pushed to her hips and his dick buried between those luscious thighs in less than five seconds.

And he would be making the biggest mistake of his life.

She was essentially a coworker. He was her superior, even though the Ops were, for the moment, disbanded. She was a woman that needed more than he could give her, more than he could allow himself to give any woman. She already had more of him than he was willing to admit to.

“Jordan, if you don’t stop standing there staring at me as though you’re ready to strangle me, then I just may begin to worry.”

She didn’t sound in the least worried. She sounded irritated, restless, a bit frustrated. But worried wasn’t in there.

“Do you need help packing?” he finally asked.

He wasn’t ready to walk away. Come dawn, the transport detail would be here to load her belongings and ship them out. She would be following behind in whichever of the expensive, fast little sports cars was still parked in the base garage. He’d given her a choice of the vehicles, something he hadn’t offered to the other members of the unit.

“I don’t need help packing.” There was a snap to her voice now, a sense of impatience and frustration that threatened to light a fuse to his already short temper.

“You’ll leave it to the last damned minute and have the transport detail packing boxes and running late while you bark out orders,” he ground out as that frustration began to eat at him, to get the better of him. “Dammit, Tehya, they’re on a schedule.”

“As if I’m ever late getting anything done.” Her eyes narrowed, an assessing, curious light glittering in them as she watched him. “Tell me a single instance in the past six years that I have ever been late.”

He hated it when she stared at him like that. As though she suddenly glimpsed something in his gaze or in his expression that was another piece of a puzzle she was putting together.

He wasn’t a damned puzzle. He was a f*cking horny man and he was trying damned hard to keep a handle on the lusts raging through him.

What the hell did she expect from him?

“Do you want me to help you pack?” His arms folded over his chest as he glared at her now, channeling all the frustrated lust into irritated anger.

Anger was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than a redheaded little rogue determined to drive him insane.

“No. Actually, I don’t need your help.” She came to her feet slowly, like a cat unwinding from a favorite bed.

She didn’t stretch, but she didn’t have to. Laziness wasn’t a part of her demeanor at the moment.

“You need someone’s help,” he growled as he stared around the living area once again. “What about the other rooms? Are they ready to load?”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Everything but the living room. Would you like to check, daddy, and make certain I’m following orders?”

The sweetness of her voice almost had his balls shrinking. Intimidation from a five-foot-four piece of dynamite? It shouldn’t be possible.

But he knew this little piece of dynamite could pack a wallop when it wanted to.

Unfortunately, common sense didn’t seem to be his forte tonight.

“Don’t call me ‘daddy,’ Tehya. I’m well aware of your feelings when it comes to fathers.”

She distrusted them. She even watched the men she had worked with for years with a suspicious gaze once they’d become fathers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jordan,” she replied with a cute little drawl that in no way detracted from the danger glittering in her gaze. “I have no feelings one way or the other where fathers are concerned. I never had a father, so how should I know how they’re supposed to act? Sperm donors don’t count.”

She had had little more than a sperm donor. One that had kidnapped her mother, impregnated her, then attempted to raise Tehya to become a brood mare for her half brother.

“You’ve had weeks to prepare for this,” he reminded her. “You should already be out of here.”

Something flashed in her eyes then, something he could have sworn was grief.

If it was, then it was the same grief that seemed to be growing inside him as well. A well of furious denial where it came to walking away from her. She cast him one of those cool little looks that warned of retribution as she stood facing him.

“I dare you,” she suddenly stated, her eyes narrowing as she stared back at him.

Every muscle in his body tightened dangerously.

God, no. Don’t let her dare him, not when he could sense where that dare was going.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you not hearing so well, Commander Jordan?” A red-gold brow arched slowly as her arms crossed over her breasts, pumping the delicate mounds up, making so damned tempting a sight his mouth almost watered.

“I dare you to actually touch me,” she explained, that note of anger in her voice causing his jaw to clench in determination. “You’ve been a complete prick for six years now, alternating between ignoring me and ordering your men away from me until it’s made me ready to pull my hair out. Be a man, Jordan. See if you can handle it. See if you can handle me or get the hell out of my room.”

There were some challenges a man couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to. This was one of those challenges.

Be a man?

She had no idea who this man was she was tempting.

“Don’t push me,” he warned her, his fingers curling to fists at his sides. “You may not like the consequences.”

“Or you may not,” she replied with an edge of pain-filled mockery. “What’s wrong, Jordan, afraid you can’t walk away from me as easily as you’ve walked away from the little bimbos you’ve been f*cking for the past six years?”

That flare of contempt that lit her gaze had his jaw tightening, but it was the pain in her voice, that tore at him. He hated hearing the pain, even that blurred edge of it. He’d seen that aching need, that hunger for something more, for years now. Too many years. He couldn’t stand hearing it in her voice now.

“I can walk away from any woman, Tehya.” He tried to keep his tone soft, gentle. God knew he didn’t want to fray those ragged edges further.

Soft lips tightened as the sharp blade of her nose lifted. Emerald-green eyes sharpened to gem brightness, but not from tears; no, Tehya didn’t cry easily. Hell, had he seen her cry at all in the many years he had known her? Definitely he hadn’t seen her cry for herself.

“Can you really?” Her head tipped to the side. “Isn’t that nice, Jordan, to be so certain you need nothing, no one. How superior you must feel to the rest of us mortals.”

Sharp, biting, her voice cut straight through the icy disdain he would have shown any other woman. The problem was, with Tehya, there was simply nothing but raw lust and shadowed emotions. That was the reason he stayed as far the hell away from her as possible.

He couldn’t project an icy disdain that simply wasn’t there. What he did have was a dick so damned hard he could pound iron with it.

“I don’t feel superior, Tehya.” Frankly, he felt lacking. During the past years, as he watched the happiness that filled men who had once been cold, hardened warriors, he’d finally realized what he’d lost in his life.

It was a loss he had accepted long ago, he reminded himself. He couldn’t make the same mistakes he had made in the past. The blood and rage that stained the darkest days of his life were never forgotten.

“The hell you don’t.” Anger filled her voice, but naked need filled her eyes. “You stood above your men daily, staring down that sharp, arrogant nose of yours as though they were recalcitrant children in need of discipline for actually daring to love. You were mockingly amused at the lot of them.”

Surprise burst inside him. Was this what his men thought? What his nephew thought? That he considered himself better than they because they loved?

He’d be damned if that were the truth. He was aware of the choices he had made, just as he knew that his men were in a far better position than he. They had someone to hold on to at night, someone to ease the aching loneliness. He had only the loneliness to keep him company.

“Is that what you really believe, Tehya?” He took a step forward, feeling blistering need and offended anger crowding inside him.

He promised himself before coming here that he wouldn’t touch her, that he would simply tell her good-bye.

Good-bye wasn’t going to be enough.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and leave, Commander Jordan,” she sneered, those tempting witch’s eyes flaring back at him as the fiery red of her lashes seemed to blaze around the iridescent color. “There’s the door, don’t let it hit you in the ass. Isn’t that what you Americans say?”

A whisper of French, that alluring little accent that only emerged in the most extreme situations, vibrated across his senses.

It may have vibrated across his senses but it seemed to wrap around his cock and squeeze. His balls tightened, the tormenting ache increasing. His self control was disintegrating and he knew it, felt it unraveling.

She did this to him. She made him crazy like this and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it. It traveled through his bloodstream like poison, like a potent drug, stripping away the control he prided himself on and leaving him grasping at the threads of decency as he tried to force himself away from her.

“You don’t want to keep pushing this,” he warned her.

“Well, hell, you must be enjoying it, Commander, you’re still standing here.” Her breasts were heaving, the nipples so hard beneath the silken material he swore they were going to pop right through the threads.

The urge to lick his lips was almost overpowering. The need for her was almost as strong.

“I could f*ck you,” he growled then. “It’s what you want, it’s what we both want, but have you considered what would happen the morning after?”

“Will there be a morning after?” she questioned him roughly. “Aren’t you the one who said you could f*ck me, but then you would have to kill me? Double O Seven has nothing on you, does he, stud?”

Stud? She had not just called him “stud”?

Damn her, the woman didn’t have the good sense to know when to keep her smart mouth shut or her tender heart safe.

Before he could stop himself, his hands were on her. His fingers curled around her upper arms as he jerked her to him, watching as her eyes widened, her hair seeming to flow around her as the pure silk of her flesh met the callused roughness of his hands.

And then he froze. Because her skin was so f*cking soft. Beneath his palms it felt as heated, warm, and soft as a cloud itself. Sensation sizzled at the touch, heated and mesmerized his senses.

Spreading his fingers apart, he touched her with his palms only and watched as he let the inner part of his hand cup the curve of her shoulder.

Hell, he wanted her. He wanted to f*ck her until he was mindless with it, until nothing or no one mattered but Tehya. Until the past and the nightmares were obliterated.

She would be the death of him.

That was but a distant thought as he let himself relish the feel of her flesh against his palms. He swore he could feel the sizzle of heat just below the flesh, drawing him, surging through his pores and washing through his system.

“Bad idea.” Swallowing tightly, he stared back at her, so focused on the strength of the need surging through him that all thoughts of pulling back evaporated.

The emerald green of her eyes darkened, glittering with need, as he watched her lips tremble.

“Six years,” she whispered. “I waited…”

He didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t hear it. The words she was about to whisper would be words she would regret the moment she realized that it wouldn’t have mattered if it had been twenty years.

To hold back the words he covered her lips with his, because he couldn’t let himself hear them.

And everything in the f*cking world exploded.

Son of a bitch.

He would have frozen if every lust cell in his body hadn’t risen in revolt. Because by freezing, he would be stopping. Hell no.

He wasn’t about to stop. He had her now, he couldn’t stop.

He tasted her.

His tongue slipped over her lips, licked at them, and before he could retrieve his basic common sense, he gave in to this one hunger.

It wouldn’t go any further. He wouldn’t allow it.

But this one pleasure was incredible.

Tehya was terrified to breathe, to whimper in hunger, or to moan in pleasure. She was terrified he would stop if she did. She was entranced by the kiss she hadn’t really expected, enthralled by a hunger that suddenly exploded through her system. His tongue stroked against hers, exciting that feminine, sensual part of her that went deeper than she had ever imagined.

But oh God.

She could feel herself trembling, shaking against him. Her hand lifted, fingers outspread, not really touching him. She wanted to touch him. Desperately. Feel him. Her hands were shaking with her need to touch.

He was warm, so warm. The feel of his lips moving against hers, over them, his tongue stroking against hers, sent pleasure racing through her as she lifted, strained to get closer without gripping his arms and pulling herself straight into his embrace.

His fingers curved around her shoulders, held her to him. Her fingers curled, and before she knew it she was gripping the material of his shirt, feeling the rolled sleeves beneath them.

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t feel her hands shaking through the material of his clothing. Maybe he wouldn’t sense the incredible need that there seemed to be no escape from. A need that had tormented her since the day she first met him in Aruba.

“God. Tey.” His hands slid down her arms, gripped her hips and jerked her closer, pulling her against the hard, heated length of his cock.

Behind denim, thick and hard, the hot flesh of his erection was a wedge of temptation, a promise of satisfaction, and it was pressing into her lower stomach erotically. She could feel that promise within her grasp. His hands gripped and kneaded her ass, lifting her, the silk of her gown pressing between her legs as she felt his thigh pressing between hers, the rough denim rubbing the silk against the swollen, sensitive flesh of her sex.

She had never deemed herself a romantic person, but she saw starbursts. She felt herself melting, her knees weakening and her breathing becoming harsh and labored.

His teeth nipped at her lips as she gasped, fighting to draw in oxygen. His lips tore away from hers, the rasp of the day’s growth of his beard scraping against her jaw in a caress that had her arching closer to the incredible sensation. Finally. He was finally touching her, kissing her. Finally she was in his arms where she ached to be.

It was exquisite. It was better than she had ever imagined it could be and her imagination was damned good. Years of fantasies were finally becoming reality.

“Jordan.” The gasp of his name was a sigh of pleasure as she felt his hand move from her rear to her thigh, his fingers edging beneath the silk of her gown, the callused tips of his fingers stroking up the outside of her thigh. The rasping sensation of his flesh against hers drove her pleasure higher, hotter.

“Is this what you want, Tey?” His arm wrapped around her waist, lifted her, and before she could do more than breathe out roughly she was pressed against the wall as he gripped her thigh, pulling it to his hips as he brought her closer to the incredible warmth of his body.

Her gown fell back from her thighs as she felt his hard, muscular thigh press harder, more firmly, into the sensitive mound of her p-ssy.

“Jordan,” the moan rose unbidden. “I’ve needed this. I’ve needed this so desperately.”

“More?” he growled. “Do you want more, Tey?”

More? She was ready to beg for more, did that count?

Her * throbbed. The aching torment of unquenched pleasure rose inside her, burning through her body and dampening her skin with perspiration. Her breasts were swollen and sensitive, her nipples tight and hard. Every cell in her body was screaming for his touch.

“Answer me, Tey.” Rougher, darker, his voice stroked over her senses as she felt his fingers curve over the bare flesh of her rear. “Do you want more, sweetheart? Is this what you want?” His fingers curved, pushed beneath her rear, and found the lush, slick flesh of her p-ssy weeping in need. Swollen, sensitive, the folds of flesh felt too hot, too slick and wet with her juices.

“Yes.” It was a hiss of exquisite pleasure the only answer she could give. His fingers stroked, rubbing against the clenched opening of her p-ssy, and sent rasping flares of pleasure rushing through the sensitive flesh, through her * and straight to the inner walls of her p-ssy.

Oh God, she wanted to come. She was so close. She could feel the need throbbing in her *, rushing through her veins. It was a pleasure born of emotion, and she knew it. Emotion she’d kept tightly reined, until now. Until his kiss, his touch, had released it.

Until his fingers rubbed against her opening, pressed and parted the sensitive flesh to slip inside just enough to make her entire body burn. To penetrate just deep enough to make her hungrier, to make her moan in rising excitement.

“You’ve been begging for it, Tey,” he groaned, his voice dark and rough, as the tips of his fingers stroked and rubbed sensitive flesh, sending pleasure rocking through her.

“And you haven’t?” she gasped, her head rolling against the wall as those two fingers sank just deeply enough to drag an unwilling cry from her throat. “Every time you warned one of your men off…” A startled, desperate cry tore from her lips as his fingers jerked back, then plunged forward, stroking inside her with a whiplash of intensity certain to weaken her mind. Stretching, heating, the walls of her p-ssy clenched desperately as though to hold his fingers locked inside her.

Her hips jerked, trying to force his fingers deeper as she felt her juices gathering, saturating his fingers as he pulled back and thrust inside her again. The shallow strokes were just enough to build the flames of sensual desperation higher.

“If one of my men had touched you, I would have had to kill him,” he suddenly snarled, his fingers f*cking deeper inside her. Her p-ssy creamed shamefully around his fingers as pleasure surged through it. “I would have made sure he was gone, Tehya, one way or the other.”

He lifted his head and those wild blue eyes glared down at hers, his dark face flushed with lust. She fought to keep her eyes open. It was hard. She wanted to look at him, to see him as he touched her, as heated lust poured into his gaze and tightened his expression.

She had waited so long for this. For his kiss, for his touch. She didn’t want to miss so much as a single sensation or one agonizingly pleasurable moment.

He didn’t give her a chance to reply. His lips moved back to hers, kissing her with a greedy hunger that had her arching closer as her fingers gripped the back of his neck, beneath the long strands of rich, silky black hair.

She had never known sensations so rich and lush, so incredibly vivid. She had had sex before, but never had it made her mindless, made her so desperate for it that all she could do was hold on and moan incoherently for more.

A keening wail tore from her throat as the fingers lodged inside her began to rub rather than thrust. He chose a spot so ultrasensitive, so wickedly heated, that she began to shake from the sensations. With his finger curved he reach high in the back of her p-ssy, pressed and rubbed and sent rapture electrifying her *.

Her entire body was stretched on a rack of such incredible pleasure that she felt intoxicated. Her senses were dazed with the overload of sensations, her p-ssy clenching, snug muscles tightening on the two wicked fingers stroking her with diabolical torturous intent.

“There, Tey,” he panted as his lips slid from hers again. “You’re so wet, baby. So sweet and hot. So f*cking tight.”

Her p-ssy spasmed again, her juices spilling around his fingers as his head lowered, his teeth raking against her neck while he nipped and kissed the sensitive flesh there.

The low-cut bodice of her gown was pushed aside, her breasts rising to his lips, her nipples hard, aching, as he kissed a path from one to the other.

Tehya swore she lost consciousness for a moment as his lips surrounded the hardened bud and sucked it inside with a tight, hard drawing motion of his mouth.

“Jordan … Oh God, yes,” she cried out desperately. “It’s so good. So good Jordan.”

The feel of his lips drawing on the tender tip sent exquisite, flaming pleasure racing straight to her womb. Ecstasy struck at her *, her p-ssy. Fire raced through her, jerking her hips, driving her sex against his fingers as she nearly climaxed from the intensity of it.

Nearly. Almost. She was so close to coming. She could feel her orgasm just out of reach, teasing her with the promise of mindless rapture as his fingers slid back and thrust inside her, driving into the responsive tissue and stroking a maelstrom of eroticism in their wake.

“Damn you. Tey. It’s not enough. God help me, I need more of you.”

Before she could process the fact that he had moved, Tehya suddenly found herself sprawled over the low bar that separated the living area from the kitchen. Jordan’s fingers were still inside her, f*cking her with forceful strokes as her hips arched, her thighs falling farther apart, while he sucked, licked, and nipped at the tender tips of her breasts once again.

She felt the wildness of his response, the hunger she had glimpsed in his eyes burning out of control as he groaned around her nipple his teeth rasping over it as his head drew back.

The blaze of lust in his brillant blue eyes seared her as he stared down at her.

“You’ll destroy us both,” he whispered as his lips moved from one nipple to its mate.

She couldn’t answer, it was all she could do to breathe. The fingers of one hand held tight to his neck as she gripped his wrist with the other, desperate to force his fingers to thrust harder, deeper inside her. To give her that extra, added sensation she needed to slip over the edge into orgasm.

She just wanted to come. She wanted that heated, destructive release tearing through her before anything could interrupt it, before Jordan could regain his control and pull back from her.

Then his fingers were sliding from her. There was no time to protest the action, no chance to make sense of the sudden desertion. His hands gripped her thighs, pushed them farther apart, and in the space of a heartbeat his tongue licked through the bare, saturated folds of her p-ssy.

Tehya froze. Her body quivered, so close to orgasm it was agony to wait as she stared down her body and met those wild blue eyes. Then her gaze slipped lower to watch, her breath catching, as his tongue licked around the glistening, swollen bud of her *oris.

And he let her watch. Watch as his tongue stroked around and laved the swollen, flushed nubbin. It rubbed against the pulsing knot of nerves, sent clenching fingers of sensation spearing to her p-ssy, jerking her body tight and dragging a desperate cry from her lips as she tried to arch closer. Dazed, desperate, she whimpered at the burning pleasure, reaching, begging for more.

As he pushed her thighs even farther apart, his lips went lower, flickering over the quivering entrance before he thrust inside suddenly, spearing into the sensitive channel before licking with diabolical greed and wicked hunger and setting a flare to the fuse of her release.

Tehya felt herself exploding. Arching, shaking, her back came up, her fingers clenching in his hair as the rush of flames tore through her body and seared across her nerve endings in violent response.

The rush of liquid heat between her thighs had Jordan groaning into the swollen folds of her p-ssy.

He’d never tasted anything as sweet, as rain soft as this woman’s response to his touch. Her body was tight, shuddering, pleasure tearing through her as he brought her to orgasm, holding onto her, amplifying it with soft licks of his tongue and the little rubbing motion he used against the underside of her *.

She was jerking in his arms, crying out his name, her voice hoarse, filled with emotion. God, he didn’t want to hear the emotion. This was one night only. It was supposed to be one kiss only, but the damage had already been done. They were both so damned hungry for this that he knew there would be no staying away from each other unless this was finished.

Then he could return to showing the world what a cold, hard bastard he really was. He would return to showing Tehya that there was no future to this, ever. That tonight was all they could ever have.

As the final pulses of her orgasm flexed against his tongue, Jordan slid back slowly, lapping at her, filling his senses with the sweetness of her before straightening, picking her up in his arms and carrying her to her bedroom.

He had been here only once before, when she first came to the Operation center. He had shown her to the small underground apartment, showed her around.

When they had stepped into the bedroom, tension had whipped in the air, even then.

It wasn’t much different now. Boxes were packed and awaiting transport rather than awaiting unpacking. The bed was larger, king-sized rather than full as it had once been.

He laid her in the center of the bed, narrowed his eyes down at her as he undressed.

Shedding the last of his clothes, Jordan watched as Tehya tossed her gown to the floor. It would have been a shame to ruin the silk, but he would have torn it from her if she hadn’t removed it herself.

Gripping the base of his dick, he fought back the need to simply f*ck her. That was what he should do. He should go right to her, thrust inside her, and drive them both to climax.

But he needed more. He ached for more. He had his own fantasies to fulfill tonight, especially this one.

He watched as she sat before him, pushing her hair back, staring up at him with those witchy eyes as she licked her lips slowly.

Jordan eased onto the bed, kneeling in front of her, the overriding lust stripping away what little restraint he had held on to over the years.

His hand slid into the back of her head, delving beneath those silky curls.

“You know what I want,” he growled, almost wincing at the sound of his own voice. “Suck my dick, Tehya. Let me f*ck that sweet mouth.”

Hunger flared in her eyes and he wanted to curse. He hated himself. Hated the needs that tore through him, the dominance that was too much a core part of him, and the hunger he couldn’t still for this too delicate woman.

Her lips parted for him, her little pink tongue peeking out to lick over the engorged, flushed head of his cock as rapid-fire electrical impulses began to attack his nerve endings.

Clenching his teeth, he couldn’t hold back the groan that rumbled from his chest. It was so f*cking good. Her tongue was a lash of pure sensual delight on the head of his dick, the aching throb of pleasure sending waves of sensation through his balls and then across the rest of his flesh.

His fingers clenched in her hair as his thighs tightened. He swore he could feel his come building in his balls, threatening to erupt.

Holding the base tight, he rubbed the swollen head against her tongue, her lips. Watching as her eyes met his, as the engorged flesh of his cock caressed heated damp silk.

He wanted to sink inside. To feel her hot mouth closing over the supersensitive head of his dick and sucking it in. The anticipation of it was killing him.

“Suck it,” he ordered roughly. “Let me in that hot little mouth, baby. Let me f*ck it like I’ve dreamed of for far too many damned years.”

He’d had too many fantasies of this. It had weakened him over the years, obviously, because he was damned if he could pull back from her.

Her lips parted.

Jordan didn’t wait for her to take him. Her lips parting was permission enough.

Holding firm to her hair, he watched instead as he pushed inside, then shuddered as a wave of heat tore through him as he watched her suck him inside.

Sweet, pink lips were stretched, reddened. Those brilliant emerald eyes fluttered closed as pleasure suffused her face. Her hands smoothed down his flanks before moving up, one hand easing between his thighs, her fingers finding the taut, responsive sac of his balls and cupping it with silken hands.

This was ecstasy.

Ah hell, he was going to lose himself in her and he could feel it. The threat of it was there. The threat of losing every promise he had made to himself over the years had the potential to destroy him.

“F*ck yes!” he hissed out as she began to move, her mouth caressing the engorged crest as she began a firm, erotic suckling with her mouth that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out against for long. “Suck my dick, baby. Sweet, hot f*cking mouth…”

His thighs burned, they were clenched so tight as her hungry mouth began to work over his cock. Her tongue lashed against the underside of the head, rubbed. The suckling pressure eased, then tightened.

Flames of hair swayed down her back, over her shoulders, caressing his thighs. Her hands were never still. One caressed his balls, the other clenched at his thigh, her fingertips rubbing against it every so often. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked the throbbing cock head in her mouth, working it with delicate greed as a moan vibrated over the aching crest.

Hell, he couldn’t hold out long. He wanted to f*ck her too bad. The need to spill inside her was building in his balls, burning through his body.

“F*ck,” he snarled in desperation. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to lose his hold on the sight and the feel of her taking him so intimately as his hips moved, his cock thrusting against her swollen lips.

The sensual, completely absorbed look on her face ratcheted up the pleasure racing through him. He could feel his entire body tightening to the breaking point, every muscle, every cell attuned to each draw of her mouth, each flick of her tongue, each incredible stroke of her silken fingers against his balls.

Clenching his hands tighter in her hair, he fought to hold back his release, fought to hold back the groan building in his chest.

She was killing him.

Watching her, seeing the fulfillment of the fantasy that had haunted his life since the day he had first met her in Aruba, eight f*cking years ago, was wearing away every objection he had used over the years to remain distant from her.

“Tey.” He couldn’t hold back the groan. “Ah God, baby.”

Hell, he swore he could feel his knees weakening further.

His hips jerked against her as he fought to keep his strokes shallow, to keep from hurting her. Damn, it was hard. He needed to be deeper inside the liquid heat of her mouth. He needed to be surrounded by her.

But pulling back from the sweet pleasure of her hungry suckling wasn’t possible, not simply because she refused to release him, but because he couldn’t make himself do it.

Her mouth tightened as he felt the blood pounding harder through his stiff flesh. His balls were agonized, the shaft flexing, release was only seconds away.

“Tey,” he said desperately. “I’m going to come, baby. Move that sweet mouth or I’m going to fill it.”

She moaned, a hungry, greedy sound that lit a fire to a sensual fuse that exploded through him with the power to weaken his knees and almost take him to the floor.

His hands tightened further in her hair. He had to be pulling the strands and couldn’t stop. The surge of sensation racing through his cock, exploding through the head and spurting from it, rocked him to his soul.

He’d never come so hard. So many years of waiting, fantasizing, and his mind was exploding with his release.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

He was still hard, the pleasure tearing through him was like a narcotic, an addiction, and he wanted more.

Somehow, he found the strength to pull her head back, watching as his still hard cock slid from her reddened lips, as those amazing green eyes opened to stare back at him in dazed pleasure while her tongue ran over her lips, the pleasure apparent in her face.

“Lie down.” He raked his eyes over the gentle lines of her body. The scattering of freckles across her nose was duplicated in a small area across the tops of her shoulders. Just the lightest hint of them beneath the skin, intriguing him, tempting him to investigate the satiny flesh.

She lay back, her breasts rising and falling quickly, her face flushed, her soft flesh sweat dampened.

“Spread your legs.” He could barely force the words out.

Tehya stared up at him, watching the wild blue of his eyes, darker, gleaming brighter than she had ever seen them.

“Beautiful.” The sound of his voice was thicker, harsher as he came to his knees before her spread thighs. “Do you have any idea how f*cking beautiful you are?”

She shook her head. She had never seen herself as beautiful. She had never believed she was beautiful. But at this moment, she felt, at the very least, pretty in his eyes. When he stared at her as though he were starving for the taste of her, his cock thick and hard, flushed, the head dark and throbbing as he came to his knees between her thighs.

“How pretty,” he murmured, reaching out to run his fingers over the bare folds of flesh.

For a second, nervousness edged at the arousal that had her dazed, almost uncomprehending.

She could see his absorption with the fact that there were no curls there, that her skin was softer, smoother than it would have been if she waxed or shaved.

Naturally bare. She had been bred to have no pubic hair. Her father had known the child he wanted, and he had chosen the perfect woman to conceive that child. And one of his requirements had been a woman whose genetics lacked the gene for pubic hair.

That thought, the memory of that past, threatened the pleasure wrapping around her.

Then he parted the folds, slid against the entrance, and two fingers pressed inside her.

Immediately her hips jerked, sensation slamming through her womb, her *, rocking through her system with an overload of pleasure.

“So ready for me,” he said hoarsely as he came over her, his fingers sliding free as he gripped his cock and tucked the engorged crest against the entrance.

“Jordan.” She could feel him, thick and heavy, prepared to penetrate as her lashes fluttered in pleasure.

“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay.”

He pressed tighter.

She had waited so long. For so long she had felt teased out of her mind, desperate to have him touch her, hold her, and it was finally happening. Finally, the aching need that had tormented her for so long would be eased. At least for tonight.

Her hands lifted, her fingers gripping his hard biceps as he began to enter her, stretching her, burning her.

Her nails dug into his arms, her hips lifting, lowering, working his flesh deeper inside her as her gaze locked with his.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “That’s it, sweetheart. F*ck me back.”

Tehya shook her head as she felt her juices gather and gush at the eroticism of the command, the sound of his voice, so rich and husky. She was captivated by him, dazed by the surfeit of pleasure rushing through her.

Surging closer, she gasped, bit her lip. He was so thick, so hard, the shaft was almost bruising as it impaled her, separating her intimate flesh and forging inside each time she thrust upward.

Her thighs spread wider, each sensation merging into the one before it, building, coalescing into such sharp, fragmented shards of ecstatic sensation that by time he took control of her and forged in to the hilt, she was crying out with need, begging for ease.

“Look, Tey.” His gaze sliced from hers as he glanced down her body, pulling her gaze to the point where they met where his body disappeared into hers.

The swollen folds of her p-ssy were parted, glistening with wetness, cupping, enfolding the base of the hard shaft penetrating her.

The sight of it had a punch of pleasure tearing through her womb. It jerked her hips tighter against his, lodged his cock harder inside her, the head rubbing against the overstretched depths of her vagina.

She was gripping his cock, flexing involuntarily around the hard flesh. She wanted to hold him just like this forever.

As she watched, he eased back, revealing the glistening shaft until only the thickened crest remained, before pushing back inside her, slowly, deeply. The flared head stroked over ultrasensitive nerve endings, rasped against excited flesh, and sent a flood of sensations racing through her bloodstream.

As though that thrust were a breaking point, Jordan gave a harsh groan before lowering himself to her, his lips covering hers as his hips began to move with a smooth, steady rhythm.

Tehya fought to hold on to him, to meet each stroke as pleasure seared her senses and flamed through every cell of her body. Her nails dug into his upper back as she thrilled to the bunching of powerful muscles beneath toughened flesh.

Electric heat sizzled through her, fingers of it raking through her womb, her *, her nipples. Her body was screaming for release. Each thrust of his cock rasped through her p-ssy, caressing the sensitive flesh with rapid-fire strokes as the agonizing pleasure surged higher, hotter.

As Jordan’s head lifted her gaze locked with his; she was mesmerized by the brilliancy of the blue, held in thrall by the hunger and the need reflected in them.

A hunger and need that tore through her, that rose with each thrust, with each forceful entry into the clenching flesh. It was more than lust. She swore she could see more there. It had to be more. The intensity of the pleasure was just too deep to be physical only. To just be lust.

“Tehya.” Her name seemed torn from his lips as her legs wrapped around his hips, her nails digging into his arms. “God yes, baby. F*ck me.”

His voice was harsher, thicker. He sounded tortured, as seeped in the agonizing pleasure as she was.

Tehya felt the waves of sensation gathering in her womb stealing her breath. The clenching tightness that echoed to her p-ssy, spasmed through it. Her * swelling it further, tightening it until the pleasure and pain mixed with erotic desperation.

She could feel his cock, thicker, harder than before, as each thrust began to tighten, shorten.

Sensation began to burn in her *, her p-ssy. Her breaths became moans, rising with each shocking burst of pleasure as she felt the pressure tightening inside her, burning, flaming out of control until it suddenly exploded like fireworks gone wild.

His name became a wailing moan as her hips arched. She felt her p-ssy tightening, clenching on his thrusting cock a second before the world melted around her.

Ecstasy began to thunder through her. A storm of sensation exploded through her in rapturous bursts, arching her body, shuddering through it as she felt Jordan thrust in hard, deep. He jerked her against him, his hard, muscular body rippling with pleasure, and he began spilling inside her.

Spurting deep and hot, his release swept through her senses as her own release seared her nerve endings and left her gasping at the intensity of her orgasm.

She didn’t know if she was breathing. She didn’t care if the world itself rained down upon them. Nothing mattered but this pleasure and the white-hot mix of sensation and emotion rising through her.

Emotion.

She had sworn she would never love, but she had known in Aruba, two years before joining the Elite Ops that it was a promise she would end up breaking.

She loved Jordan Malone.

* * *

He’d just destroyed both of them.

Jordan stared at the ceiling above him as he held Tehya in his arms and knew the mistake he had made. He hadn’t f*cked her. He’d intended to, but he hadn’t. No. Hell no. He’d come much too close to making love to her.

He’d fought this for years. Fought it and sworn he’d never give in to it, because he knew it had no future. That he had no future with her. He couldn’t risk his soul to that point. If he kept her, if he gave into his need, then he’d never be able to let her go. He would allow himself to give in to that illusion that lasted forever, when he damned well knew love was the illusion, and forever didn’t exist.

And even if he was wrong, even if she was the home-and-hearth type, and the illusion could be maintained there was always the risk that his enemies, those made before his time in the Elite Ops, would find him. And when they found him, they would find his weakness.

Tehya.

She was the weakness. She was the one woman capable of breaking his control.

“Nothing to say?” she whispered from where she lay against him, obviously awake. It was too much to pray she had gone to sleep.

When he said nothing, she moved. Jordan had to force himself to let her go, to refrain from pulling her back to his chest. Where she belonged.

Rolling from his side she rose from the bed, and slowly, wearily, she collected her gown from the floor and pulled it over her head. She looked defeated. That realization tore at his concience, leaving him steeped in regret and guilt.

Wiping his hand over his face, Jordan rose as well, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched her broodingly. Son of a bitch, this was one of the reasons he hadn’t taken her to his bed. Tehya wasn’t a one-night stand, and he had known it. F*ck, hurting her was killing him.

Hurting Tehya was something he had tried desperately not to do over the years. In all his life there had never been anyone he wanted to protect more than he wanted to protect Tehya. There had never been a woman so hard to let go.

Something he had known from the beginning that he had no choice about.

* * *

Tehya promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She fought back the tears but she couldn’t fight back the pain clenching her chest and throbbing through her heart.

She had always assumed a broken heart was more figurative than literal, but she could feel it ripping in half inside her chest. Even her bones ached, her ribs felt too tight, under pressure, as though the emotions tearing at her heart were going to burst from her skin, as well.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Those eyes. That brilliant, almost neon blue stared back at her somberly.

Irish Eyes, her friend Jordan’s sister-in-law, Sabella Blake, had told her once. Jordan had Irish Eyes; any woman lucky enough to steal his love would have a true window into his soul. Sabella had told her how she had once “seen” the horror of her husband’s torture when he was kidnapped by a drug cartel owner. That she had felt his pain, dreamed of his screams.

Tehya had always wondered what such love would feel like. She had fantasized about possessing this man’s love in such a way. A fantasy. That was all it was. A fantasy she had to let go of now.

“I have to finish packing.” She heard the hoarseness of her voice and knew she wasn’t hiding her emotions as well as she had hoped. She didn’t want him to feel responsible, or guilty that he couldn’t love her. Hell, her own father hadn’t loved her, why would any other man?

“Tehya, I don’t want to lose your friendship, either, not because of this,” he said as he pushed his legs into his jeans then rose and pulled them over his muscled legs, his gaze somber as he watched her closely.

“Are we friends, Jordan? Were we ever?” She had never felt friendship with him. Friends was the last thing they would ever be. She felt too much for him, hungered too deeply for his touch.

She couldn’t define exactly what she had felt from him over the years. She knew her own emotions had been in conflict more than once, but friendship had never been the definition she would used to describe their relationship.

“I hoped we were.” That edge of regret in his voice tore at her.

She could almost feel the pity coming, and she really didn’t want to have to shoot him. If he dared to feel sorry for her, then that would be the least of the problems he would have.

Giving her head a quick shake, she turned and walked from the bedroom. She couldn’t handle this tonight. She couldn’t stand here and discuss friendship, see the pity on his face, or confront the fact that the years of dreams had been wasted effort.

God, it had been so long. Ever since that night in Aruba when she had come to Ian Richards to help him capture Sorrel. It had been too damned long. Suddenly, she felt far older than she actually was, and far too tired to fight with herself or with Jordan any longer.

“Tehya?” Jordan followed, standing in the bedroom doorway as she moved to the pile of empty boxes and protective paper stacked next to the shelves she hadn’t yet begun to pack. Because packing meant leaving, and leaving was killing her.

Each of the trinkets had been collected over the years. There were pocket dragons, fairies, expensive little keepsake boxes. And there were pictures. Pictures of the team she had worked with, their wives, and a few included the children of those men. In some, there was an unsmiling Jordan. In one, he stood next to Tehya, an arm around her shoulders, as they stared back at the camera.

These were the past six years of her life.

She picked up the picture of her and Jordan first, wrapped it, packed it.

“Why do you think I hadn’t taken you to my bed before now?” he asked from the bedroom doorway.

She had always known why. Because once he did, she would have no choice but to leave.

“Why don’t you leave, Jordan?” She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, and she wasn’t about to do it while he was standing there watching her as though waiting for her to break apart.

Before she knew it, he was next to her, his hands gripping her upper arms as he jerked her around.

She saw the anger then. His eyes were bright with it, the blue snapping down at her, his expression tight with regret.

“I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“And you haven’t.” She wasn’t backing down from him but she was damned if she would cry for him. She wouldn’t do that to either of them.

He hadn’t done this to her, he hadn’t asked her what she felt. And how many times had he pushed her away, done everything but told her that it couldn’t happen? She had been the one that pushed for it, that dared him. She had broken her own heart.

It had been her own stubbornness, her own stupidity, that had led her here. She had known better. At least she should have known better.

Sex wasn’t love, and she could see now what he had tried to save her from. Sex couldn’t change him and sex wasn’t going to make him suddenly realize he couldn’t live without her.

Yet the anger was there inside her, as well. A feminine fury she couldn’t escape.

“Tehya, we’re friends,” he ground out furiously. “If you ever need me…”

“I didn’t need you before I came here, and I won’t need you after I leave.” Jerking away from him, she stalked to the far side of the room and faced him where the sheer power of his presence would hopefully be diluted. “It’s been fun Jordan, thanks for the memories and the sex, but you can leave now.”

“God, Tehya!” He raked his fingers through his hair, the long, silken strands falling around his face with such male, sensual disarray that she had to clench her fingers at the overwhelming need to run them through it again.

“Don’t do this, Jordan.” She had to get away from him, she had to hold back the tears. “Don’t make this harder for me than it already is. For both of us. Just leave.”

Over the years, that was all she had done, held back her emotions, held back her dreams, hell, she had held back her life in the hope, the dream, that something more than blood could fill her future.

She had obviously been so wrong. Her time here was over. The Elite Ops was shutting down and the new team coming in didn’t need her. They had their own people, their own specialties. No one needed the daughter of a white slaver. A woman who had no true specialty, no family, and no longer a reason for being there.

She had no special training. She had no true education. She was an outcast, plain and simple. Unlike the other members of the team, she didn’t have a happily-ever-after waiting for her when she walked out the doors of the base.

There would be no family waiting for her. There were no friends she could look up. She had a new identity, but she had no idea what the hell to do with it or where to go with it.

She watched as he shrugged his shirt on and buttoned it with quick, angry movements. She couldn’t miss the anger, it glowed in his eyes, tightened his body. There was nothing she could do to alleviate it either.

“I don’t want to lose contact with you.” He seemed to be forcing the words out.

He was placating her and she hated that. The last thing he would want would be to stay in contact with a woman he pitied.

She nodded slowly. “I’m sure we won’t. We have friends in common. Hell, you can always call, right?”

She doubted he would, despite the fact that he had given approval for the team members to keep the satellite phones they had been assigned, as well as the numbers.

As she stared back at him, the only other dream she had left rose in her mind. A life that she could build with the new identity she had been given, and maybe, just maybe, there was one other person in the world that she could connect with. The cousin who didn’t know her, who wouldn’t recognize her. But a cousin she might be able to build a friendship with.

She still had that fragment of a dream. The Elite Ops had at least given her the ability to walk away safe.

“Tehya.” The sound of his voice, the regret returning, was tearing her apart.

She didn’t want this. She should have never pushed him, she should have walked out of here and kept the dreams rather than the reality.

Touching him, being touched by him, feeling the first orgasm of her life that she hadn’t given herself, would destroy her now. Because she knew what it could be. She knew what she was losing, and it would haunt her every day of her life.

“I need some time.” She swallowed tightly realizing his sense of responsibility wouldn’t allow him to leave her alone otherwise.

“I can give you time.” He nodded slowly. “But not indefinitely, Tehya. The day will come soon when we’ll talk about this.”

No, it wouldn’t. When the transportation team arrived to haul away her belongings, she would already be gone. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t bear to see him, even another moment. If she didn’t leave before morning came, then she would beg. And God knew, she didn’t want to beg for a love he couldn’t give her.

“Of course we will.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and turned away from him as she moved to the open kitchen. “We’ll talk.”

They wouldn’t talk, because there was nothing for them to talk about.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he stated.

And Tehya nodded. It was another lie. They wouldn’t talk in the morning, he wouldn’t see her in the morning, because she wouldn’t be here.

She didn’t hear him move, she felt him move. She felt him coming closer to her and tensed, knowing that the connection to him would be severed forever once she walked out of the base.

It was just over. There were no more chances to capture his heart.

She had failed. The most important dream she had ever had, and she had failed.

His hands settled on her shoulders, his hold implacable as he turned her until he could pull her against his chest.

“I should have never touched you, Tey,” he whispered as his lips brushed against her hair. “You’re too important to me to lose you this way.”

Her teeth clenched. She was going to lose it. Tears thickened her throat, pooled in her eyes. The agony racing through her was tearing her apart second by second until her heart felt like a ragged wound in her chest. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg, and she thanked God her pride held her back.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” she informed him, amazed that she could speak, that she could breathe through the pain. “Just go away, Jordan. I’ll have it all together in the morning and we’ll forget it ever happened.”

She would never forget it. She had thought that if she could force him to admit he wanted her, she would have a chance at his heart. She had never imagined it would become one night only. What a childishly romantic thought. She of all people should know better than to believe in fairy tales.

“Tehya.” The grimace that tightened his face broke her heart.

That expression said it all. The tightening of his lips, the chill in his eyes. Dealing with her emotions, dealing with the fact that she had expected more, was a duty he’d rather be well rid of, no matter what he said.

She should have been thankful he had allowed her on the team. She, the daughter of the enemy who had murdered his friend, who had been instrumental in nearly destroying his nephew. She might have killed Sorrel, but she still had his blood. She was still his daughter. And she should have known Jordan would have never been able to love someone so closely related to such an enemy.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” Her voice was thicker. She was so close to crying it was humiliating. In that moment she hated the emotions that raged through her. She wished she could be hard, cold, that she could feel only that twinge of regret that she didn’t have the emotional capacity to care for anyone outside friendship as he did.

She watched as his head turned, his jaw tightened. Then he gave a brief, hard nod before striding to the door.

“We will discuss this in the morning,” he informed her, then opened the door and left the suite.

And then the tears fell.

The sob that tore from her shocked her. She’d been certain she could hold it in. Her knees weakened to the point that she nearly fell to the floor as her hands pressed tight and hard into the clenching muscles of her stomach.

The emotional pain hurt worse than a bullet.

She could feel the ragged, gaping hole in her chest where her heart had once been, and the agony of it was a horrible realization. She felt as though she were dying inside. As though a part of her soul were being ripped away from her.

She hadn’t thought it would hurt this bad.

She hadn’t imagined it would be this hard to face.

Returning to the bedroom, she quickly dressed in jeans, T-shirt, boots. A leather jacket was thrown over the duffel bag she had packed in the closet. A smaller backpack sat next to it.

The moving team had the address and instructions for handling her belongings. They would be stored for the time being, because she had no place to go.

All she knew was that there was no way she could face Jordan when morning came. That the ragged pain in her chest would only turn to anger, and she didn’t want the love to turn to hatred.

There was nothing left to do but to leave before she was forced to face him again. Before she could push him again, before she could plead with him to love her, beg him to tell her why he didn’t.

Before she broke down completely and a lifetime of pain and grief overwhelmed her.

How silly of her to believe he could love her when no one else ever had.

* * *

Jordan knew Tehya was gone the second he entered her suite. There was such a sense of emptiness, of abandonment, that it was unmistakable. The effect it had on him was undeniable.

She was gone.

His chest tightened with a ragged pain that had his teeth clenching, his fingers fisting. The need to hit something tore through him, nearly overwhelming his self-control.

A violent, bitter curse escaped his lips before he could cut off the sound.

Breathing out a weary sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets and moved through the large set of rooms anyway. Just to be certain.

If she had taken anything with her, it wasn’t much. Perhaps a few changes of clothes, he thought as he checked the closet, only to see stacked boxes within them marked “Clothes.” He found the same thing throughout the rest of the suite. Boxes neatly packed, closed and taped. Tehya’s life reduced to less than a quarter of the capacity of the moving van arriving to relocate her.

He found himself swallowing tightly, his throat oddly blocked at the realization of how little Tehya had amassed over the years. Unlike the other agents, she had no secondary home, no family to go back to, no other house in which to store her belongings. She’d had nothing but the Elite Ops.

And now, she had no one.

A hard grimace contorted his face before he could control it, a result of the hard ache that clenched his chest. F*ck, he missed her already. Her laughter, her shy smiles, her almost innocent sensuality and affection for him.

He should have never taken her. Or perhaps, after taking her he should have taken her again, and again. until she was too tired to run

Turning, he strode from the suite and headed for the garage area, wondering which vehicle she had taken.

Standing in front of the empty slot where his favorite had sat, he almost grinned. She had chosen the black Viper over the many more expensive performance vehicles available. His favorite. The one he had driven more often and had claimed over the years.

Had she taken the Viper because it was the only part of him she could leave with?

She had taken much more with her than she guessed. Already he could feel the empty ache, the dark, brutal core of unrequited need throbbing in his soul.

But she was alive, he told himself as that ache threatened to roll over to grief. She wasn’t in his life, but she had a chance to have a life now. A chance to live rather than hide from the past that had haunted her.

That didn’t stop that ragged hole in his heart from bleeding, though, and damn if he had expected that. He’d expected regret, hell, he’d known he would miss her. But the ache radiating in his chest wasn’t just regret. He didn’t just miss her.

His nostrils flared as he breathed in hard and turned sharply from the parking area to stride back to his own suite.

He had let her go; holding on to her wasn’t an option. Whatever he was feeling would eventually go away, he assured himself. She had been a part of his life for too long, tempting him, trying to draw closer to him, wiggling her way inside him despite his defenses.

And it f*cking hurt to lose her.

But he had lost before. Friends, lovers, coworkers. The violence that permeated the life he lived had taken them from him.

He contented himself with the fact that Tehya was alive, she was breathing, and one day she would love someone. She would laugh with him, sleep with him. She would have a life, she had never had the chance to have one before.

He had made certain she would have that chance now.

And it was too late to turn back now.