Hot & Bothered (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 8) Read online

  “I can’t,” she whispered, dropping her head until her hair fell forward and curtained her face from his view. There were so many reasons. He didn’t love her. He would end up resenting her no matter what he said. And marrying her meant the end of his career unless she finished this mission and Ian kept his promise.

  Maybe it still meant an end of his career, even with her name cleared. Because HOT would know who she was and Colonel Mendez would be furious that Ryan had been involved with her in the first place.

  “Do you honestly want to do this alone?”

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes glittered like hot flames.

  “No… but that doesn’t mean we have to marry.”

  “I’m trying to do right by you. What the hell do you think Brandy will do to me once he finds out? Or, worse, your sister?”

  Emily’s belly churned with irritation. “Do you think I care what they think right now? Victoria is half a world away—and Nick’s your teammate. He’s not a fool, and he’s not going to suggest pistols at dawn or anything. He only worries about me insomuch as my welfare affects Victoria’s.”

  How could she tell him that she would have married him in a second if he’d asked for any other reason than it was his duty because he’d knocked her up? How could she admit to what she felt for him when it was abundantly clear he didn’t feel the same way?

  He’d only ever felt sorry for her and responsible in some way, even before the baby. She didn’t doubt that he cared, in his own fashion, but she knew he didn’t love her. And dammit, that’s what she wanted out of life now. She was old enough and had been through enough to know what she wanted.

  She wanted a man who loved her, who couldn’t live without her because doing so would leave him incomplete. She wanted passion and equality—in short, she wanted what Victoria had with Nick. That man worshipped her. Worshipped the ground she walked on. He’d do anything for her, sacrifice anything for her happiness.

  Emily might not have known what real love between a couple was if she hadn’t watched her sister and Nick over the past few months.

  Now that she knew, she didn’t want to settle for less in her own life. Maybe she was deluding herself, but she had to believe there was more for her too.

  “I don’t know how else to fix this, Emily. Marrying is the right thing to do for our kid. You’ll be my dependent, eligible for medical care and my life insurance if something happens to me. We’d get housing and benefits from the military. You could go back to school, finish your degree. You wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job or a place to live.”

  Yes, she knew all those things were important. But it was so cut-and-dried, so raw and logical. Not an ounce of feeling in there. Not an ounce of passion. Just practicality. And he still hadn’t even addressed the biggest question of all, which was his job in HOT. He had to know what he was risking, but he acted like it didn’t exist.

  “Once more, you are alllll romance, big guy.” She pushed away and stood. He looked up from his kneeling position, and her heart skipped a beat at the perfection of that face. “The answer is still no.”

  He got to his feet, scowling hard. “You aren’t thinking this through, Emily.”

  “I’m thinking just fine. I don’t want to get married because it’ll make you feel better. I want to get married because you can’t imagine life without me.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she died just a little inside.

  “Life isn’t a romance novel,” he said, eyes flashing.

  Emily snorted. “Seriously? Who are you telling? I’m the poster child for dysfunctional relationships—which is why I’m not going to marry you like this.” She shook her head. “I wish it were different, Ry. I wish we were in love, dating, and you wanted to marry me because you just had to spend your life with me. Because you knew deep in your heart and soul that I was the only person for you. But that’s not what’s happening here, and we both know it. So please stop trying to bully me into marriage for the sake of your conscience.”

  He clenched his fists at his sides. “You aren’t shutting me out of this kid’s life, Emily.”

  “I didn’t say I was!”

  His brows arrowed downward. Then he pointed at her. “Let me tell you something else while we’re at it. You aren’t endangering my kid’s life, or yours, by continuing to work for Ian Black. I want you on the next plane out of here. I want you safe.”

  And there it was. His real motive for coming here. “I’m not going. If I leave now, those hostages are dead. Do you really want that to happen? Linda Cooper is pregnant, her husband’s waiting for her at Aviano Air Base, probably praying to God that she comes home safely with their child—and you want me to get on a plane when I’m on the verge of getting the location out of my contact? No. Fucking. Way.”

  “You don’t have to be here. Hassan Mustafa wants the money, and he doesn’t care who delivers it. You’re leaving.”

  Emily folded her arms over her chest. “I’m really not. I’ll go when this is over, but not a moment sooner.”

  He didn’t look any happier, but he tilted his head and considered her. “You’ll go willingly when the hostages are free? Back to DC and the life you had before?”

  The life she had before. He made it sound like it was this awesome thing, when in fact she’d been lost and lonely and, well, purposeless in so many ways.

  “Yes, Ryan, I’ll go back. I don’t have much choice. I’m not having my baby in Acamar. I’m not very useful to Ian if I can’t go into the field anymore—and I can’t with a child, can I?” She pulled a deep breath. “I’ll go back and finish my degree, go to work and make a life for me and the baby. I promise you that.”

  “You still aren’t meeting with Mustafa. One of us can go.”

  Her blood boiled over. She’d never realized just how autocratic he was. He’d never told her what to do before—not ever—but since he’d arrived yesterday, he hadn’t stopped bossing her around for a single minute.

  “You don’t get to decide that.”

  “I’m not letting you go, Emily.”

  “You don’t have a choice. I work for Ian, not you. I’m going.”

  “Do you even give a shit about this baby? About yourself?”

  Emily launched herself at him, prepared to slap him upside his arrogant head, but he caught her raised arm and held her tight. She brought the other one up, but he caught that arm too.

  “You’re an asshole! Let go!”

  He didn’t hold her too tightly, but his grip was firm, his fingers pressing into her wrists, immobilizing her. Then he pushed her arms down, behind her back, and caught both wrists in one hand before slamming her full length against him.

  Emily gasped at the sudden pressure of his body against hers. His heat seared into her, reminded her forcefully of that night they’d spent together when the heat between them had been incendiary.

  Ryan was all muscle. All brawn and hard-bodied yumminess. And her core melted at the contact. It infuriated her and alarmed her too. How could she be firm with him when all he had to do was touch her like this and her entire body dissolved into a puddle of warm, syrupy desire?

  If he asked her to marry him now, she’d probably agree. In fact, she’d probably agree to anything if it meant she could feel more of his body against hers—and she hated herself for it. He was her weakness, her addiction.

  And it was worse because she didn’t affect him the same way, didn’t matter to him at all—

  His cock swelled, the pressure against her belly growing. She tilted her head back, her mouth dropping open slightly. His gaze was fierce, possessive.

  Vaguely, she knew she was supposed to be fighting him, insisting that he let her go—but she couldn’t think of a thing to say when he looked at her like that, when his body pressed into hers and his cock grew hard.

  He speared his free hand into her hair, tilted her head back. “Emily. Jesus, what you do to me…”

  “What, Ry?” she whispered, her throa
t tight and raw. “What do I do to you?”

  “This,” he growled—and then he kissed her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  HE WAS FURIOUS AND FRUSTRATED all at once. Ryan wanted to lock Emily in her room and not let her out until he could put her on a plane to the States, but she was too stubborn, too determined to do what she wanted.

  He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Hadn’t meant to let her know that she had his brain twisted into knots and his libido revving into overdrive.

  But goddamn, she was sexy. And sweet, so damn sweet.

  Her lips softened beneath his, and he groaned as his tongue slid into her mouth. She was like honey and silk, her tongue meeting his softly, then a little harder as he tipped her head back for better access.

  He let her wrists free, half certain she’d shove him away.

  She did not. Her arms went up, around his neck, and she arched her body into his. Her sweet, perfect little body that nestled his child inside.

  Oh, God.

  It was such a staggering thought. An overwhelming feeling. It had the power to bring him to his knees if he thought about it too much.

  Emily Royal was pregnant with his baby. And she wouldn’t let him protect her. Wouldn’t let him do what was second nature to him, which was keep her and their child safe from harm.

  He’d take a bullet for her. For them. She didn’t understand.

  She wanted him to marry her because he couldn’t live without her. He was pretty sure he could live without anyone. His childhood had taught him that. He’d learned to live without a mother, and he’d survived it. Hell, he’d thrived after he’d finally come to accept what she was and that she was no good for his life.

  So, yeah, he could live without anyone. But wanting to—that was another matter.

  He slid his hands down Emily’s sides, gently worked her shirt free from her pants. Then his palms skimmed up her bare skin, feeling the heat and silkiness of her. She shuddered beneath his touch, and his cock strained against his fly, aching to be let free. To be touched.

  He hadn’t been with a woman since he’d been with her. Hell, he hadn’t been with any woman for about six months before he’d slept with Emily, truth be told—and he was primed. Fucking primed to go off like a rocket.

  His fingers touched the lacy softness of her bra, and then he rounded her breasts and cupped them. She gasped as he glided his thumbs over her hardened nipples. He pressed a little harder, a little rougher, and she moaned.

  Had she been this sensitive before? He didn’t think she had, but maybe pregnancy made a difference.

  Shit. She was pregnant and he had to be careful with her. He’d never been with a pregnant woman, but he knew they were more delicate.

  He left her breasts and smoothed his way down to her ass, which he cupped as he pulled her against his body, increasing the pressure in his groin.

  He wanted to rip her clothes off and bury himself inside her, but he sensed that wasn’t necessarily the way to go here. Because once it was over, there would be recriminations. Regrets and pain. He didn’t want to cause her more pain.

  He didn’t want to cause himself more pain. This—this being with her and knowing she carried his child, this infuriating change in her personality compared with how she used to be with him—was painful enough. He didn’t understand her anymore, didn’t know how to deal with her the way he once did.

  He felt her stiffen in his arms, and then her hands slid from around his neck to his chest. Her palms flattened against his pecs—and then she pushed, gently but firmly, and he broke the kiss, his inner caveman berating him for not getting her spread-eagled and naked on the bed.

  “We can’t do this. Not here.” She wouldn’t look at him, and that was somehow a hundred times worse than if she had.

  “Marry me and we can do it wherever we want.”

  She closed her eyes and forced out a breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” He shrugged, and she blinked at him.

  Then she shook her head. “Are you making jokes, Ry?”

  He was the joker of the team, but he hadn’t felt much humor in the past two months. He still didn’t. Jokes were simply a way of hiding pain and insecurity, though most people didn’t get that. It had been his coping mechanism as a child, and it still was.

  “Maybe I am. But it’s also true. Marry me, and no one on earth can stop us from doing what we want to do together.”

  “Colonel Mendez would have your ass. And you’d lose your job—is that what you want?”

  He quite possibly would lose his job. Hell, he definitely would. Marrying a known terrorist’s widow? A career killer for sure.

  “I’ll deal with it when it happens.”

  “Don’t you see why I have to stay here? Why I have to finish this mission and find where those hostages are located? Maybe that will be enough to clear my name and let me have a normal life again.”

  He wanted to go find Ian Black and put a bullet in the fucker’s head. “If Colonel Mendez couldn’t fix it, what makes you think Black can? You need to realize he’s lied to you for his own reasons.”

  Her brown eyes flashed. “You’re so certain of that, aren’t you? That Ian lied and that I’m dumb enough to believe him. You can’t even entertain the possibility he’s telling the truth. But don’t you realize what that would mean for me? For us?”

  He wanted to growl. “Of course I know. But he’s a liar, Emily. He’s dirty, no matter that he seems to be on the right side at the moment. Ian Black is the kind of man who’ll sell his services to the highest bidder—and if you get caught on the wrong side, you’ll be the one who suffers.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already suffered—don’t you get that? It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” She put her hand over her belly. “It’s a chance I have to take.”

  He looked at her fingers resting on her stomach, and a wave of possessiveness rolled through him like a tsunami. Mine. He couldn’t stop her, that much was clear. She would fight him every step of the way.

  But he could protect her. No, goddammit, he would protect her. She was his in a way she never had been before—and he took care of what was his.

  He pointed at her. “You aren’t going anywhere without me, you got that? You step outside this room, I’m with you. You do an end run around me, and I swear to God, Emily, I’ll have your ass bound and gagged and on a plane before you know what hit you. Are we clear on that?”

  Her face reddened and her eyes looked like they might bug out of her head. But she kept a rein on her temper for a change. She nodded, a firm, decisive movement that told him she knew he meant business.

  Someone knocked on her door and she jumped. Ryan strode over and yanked it open. Brandy was on the other side, his eyes widening as Ryan stood in the entry.

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked with an arched brow.

  “Yes,” Ryan said at the same time Emily said, “No.”

  Emily came over and pulled the door wider. Ryan let go and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting.

  “We were just talking,” Emily said dismissively. “Have you heard from Victoria?”

  “Yeah, had a message a little while ago. She’s relieved you’re okay. Wants you to come home—and I think she’s target practicing for the next time Ian’s in town.”

  Emily snorted. Ryan didn’t think Brandy was joking, however. Or mostly not joking. Soon she’d be practicing with a picture of him as a target too.

  “I’ll be home soon,” she said. “As soon as this mission is over, probably.”

  Brandy cocked his head, studying her. “Why did you come here in the first place, Em? There were no hostages when you left DC, so why the change of heart now?”

  Emily’s gaze dropped. “It’s hot and dusty here—and I’m tired of it.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Ryan said. “You can’t keep it a secret forever.”

  Emily turned to glare at him. But Brandy’s gaze ping-ponged between them. “Keep wh
at a secret? What’s going on?”

  Ryan thrust his jaw out. Dammit, he didn’t want to be her dirty secret. Not when this was so life-altering for them both.

  “Don’t you dare,” Emily grated. “Now’s not the time.”

  “Not the time for what?” Brandy asked, his gaze narrowing.

  “She’s pregnant,” Ryan said, ignoring the daggers she glared at him. “And it’s mine.”

  *

  Emily wanted to kill him. Just wrap her hands around his stubborn throat and squeeze the life from his too-sexy body. Just a few moments ago, she’d been wrapped in his arms, her body pressed against his, and seriously considering ripping his pants open and dropping to her knees before him.

  Now she’d like to clobber him.

  Nick Brandon looked like someone had clobbered him, come to think of it. He gaped at them both. And then the storm clouds rolled in, and Emily could see it coming. The macho asshole was going to have a come-apart. And then Ryan would have a come-apart—and the room would be overrun with testosterone as the two idiots fought over her honor or whatever in the hell they were going to fight about.

  “Stop it right now,” she said as Nick took a step toward Ryan. “I mean it. No one, and I mean no one, is getting into any fights over me or this baby. Ryan, you jerk, you could have kept your mouth shut. And Nick, I know you’re only pissed because you know Victoria will be pissed—but honest to God, I’m a grown woman and I can make my own mistakes, so stay the fuck out of this.”

  Nick didn’t look like he was planning to back down—but he didn’t move either. His face was a thundercloud.

  “Damn right I’m pissed, and not just because of Victoria,” he growled. “You’re my little sister, or about to be my little sister, and I’m not letting some asshole who can’t keep it in his pants take advantage of you.”

  Ryan laughed. “Jesus, that’s rich. You and Victoria couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to Emily half the time because you were so damn wrapped up in each other that you forgot she existed.”

  “I’m going to wipe the floor with you, Flash. Motherfucking wipe the floor and then throw you out like the douche rag you are—”