Hot & Bothered (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 8) Page 15

  And then she flew apart, her orgasm hitting her like a truck she didn’t see coming. She might have screamed. She might have sworn. She didn’t know what she’d done except that she knew she was coming hard and it wasn’t over yet.

  “Fuck me,” Ryan muttered. “That’s beautiful, Emily. So damn beautiful. Keep coming just like that.”

  She did, even as he withdrew and slammed into her again and again, not letting her down from the high, not giving her an ounce of reprieve. Her pussy squeezed him tight, gripped him hard, increasing the friction until he lost control of his response.

  She knew he was coming by the way he stiffened, by the way his hips jerked into hers. The cords of his neck were tight as he threw his head back. He withdrew a couple of inches and then slammed back into her, his cock jerking as he came. She felt the hot wash of his semen inside her.

  Even while he came, he still managed to continue stroking her clit, eliciting even more pleasure from her body.

  “That was fucking amazing,” he finally said when she’d stopped shaking, her limbs too tired to even tremble. He withdrew, his cock still hard, and then surged forward again.

  It still felt amazing, even if she was spent.

  “I want to stay right here forever,” he told her. “Right here deep inside you. My cock and your pussy, together forever.”

  She couldn’t help but giggle. “Joined at the groin, huh? What about food and drink?”

  He dropped a kiss onto her shoulder, her collarbone. “I don’t care. Someone can bring us food and drinks. We’ll fuck all the time, and we’ll be blissfully happy.”

  “I think the baby might want out at some point.”

  “Yeah, probably so. We’ll stop for that. Soon as he’s out, we’re fucking again.”

  She pushed his shoulder. He made her blush and he made her want him all at the same time. “You’re silly. No one fucks twenty-four seven.”

  He licked a path around one of her nipples and she gasped. “Maybe they should. The world would be a better place if everyone was more concerned with fucking each other and less concerned with other things.”

  “Can’t argue with that. But unfortunately not everyone is as enlightened as you are, Ryan.”

  “As we are, honey.”

  “Right. We.” She sighed and pushed her fingers through his hair. It was damp and curly, and she loved that she had the right to touch him like this. What would it be like if she could touch him like this every day for the rest of her life?

  Her heart flipped. If she married him…

  But, no, if she married him and he was only doing it for the baby’s sake, then it wasn’t the same thing at all. Because he would resent her eventually. Resent that she’d trapped him into marriage.

  You don’t know that.

  No, she didn’t—but she knew that a marriage built on duty wasn’t quite the same thing as one built on passion and love for each other. He hadn’t yet said he loved her. She hadn’t said it either—but why would she? She was terrified to do so.

  “I’m still hard…”

  “I noticed.”

  He sucked a nipple between his lips and she moaned, clutching his head to her body. Fresh excitement began to build inside her core, rolling outward in waves of sizzling heat. If she couldn’t have his love, at least she could have this.

  “You feel like coming again?” he asked as he trailed his mouth over to her other nipple.

  “Yes… definitely, yes…”

  “Me too. Hold on, Emily. It’s about to get crazy in here…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “MORNING, FLASH.”

  “Morning.” Ryan picked up a plate and dished out some eggs. No bacon, dammit, because this was Acamar and pork wasn’t allowed.

  Fiddler watched him with a lifted brow as he approached. The dude knew something was up, but Ryan wasn’t telling him exactly what. The other guys barely glanced up from their plates other than to nod. They’d all been witness to the fight he’d had with Brandy. They might not know the whole reason, but they knew Emily was at the center of it.

  “Missed you last night,” Fiddler said.

  Ryan forked up some eggs. “Missed you too, baby doll.”

  Fiddler snorted. “Asshole.”

  “Is that what you missed about me, sweetie?”

  Fiddler tossed a piece of bread at him. Ryan gave him a grin and put the bread on his own plate. Man, he was tired. And his back ached. Emily’s bed was too fucking narrow for two people. Or three, if you wanted to be technical about it.

  But goddamn, he wouldn’t trade a second of last night for more comfort. When he’d insisted on sleeping on her floor, he hadn’t expected he’d spend a good part of the night in her bed. Or in her body.

  Fuck, what a night. What a damn night. His body was tired in all the right ways, but it wouldn’t take much to get him hard again. Just thinking about Emily would do the trick if he wasn’t careful.

  Brandy walked into the room then. His face didn’t look much better as he grabbed a plate and filled it. Then he came over and sat across from Ryan. Not an accident, that.

  “How you doing this morning, Flash? Sleep good?”

  Ryan forked more eggs into his mouth. “Never better. You?”

  “She agree to marry you yet?”

  Fiddler’s head swung toward Brandy. A couple of the other guys nearby overheard and looked up as well.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Why won’t she agree to marry you, dude? She can’t get any more knocked up than she already is.”

  “Whoa, man,” Fiddler said. “Emily’s pregnant? You got her pregnant?”

  Ryan’s good mood was fast evaporating. But he’d started this, hadn’t he? Last night, when he’d insisted on telling Brandy against Emily’s wishes. Shit. He was feeling about two inches tall right now, especially when Emily walked into the room then, her long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, that gorgeous body he’d worshipped encased in a black utility jumpsuit. It wasn’t a sexy garment, but on her it was. It hugged her breasts, tapered to her waist, and then flared over her hips like a lover’s caress.

  She stopped and stared at him. Or maybe at the table of men who were currently staring back at her.

  Ryan shot to his feet and went to her side, drawn to her like she’d reeled him in. Maybe she had.

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes softening, her cheeks growing pink. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How do you feel this morning?”

  “Much better.” She glanced behind him, presumably at his team, and then lowered her voice. “Maybe a little sore. But in a good way.”

  Fuck. He had to fight not to get hard when she said that, because every single memory of last night scrolled through his head like a dirty movie. A hot, sexy, sweet, dirty movie in which they’d been the two stars.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “I’m not… Okay, want to tell me why all the guys are staring?”

  “Brandy said something about us getting married.”

  Her eyes shuttered. “We aren’t getting married.”

  “Not arguing about that with you right now, but I’m not done with the subject.” He reached for her hand, clasped it in his. “Brandy might have mentioned the reason we need to get married.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Well, shit. Why’d he go and do that?”

  “Because he’s pissed at me. And he cares about you.” Ryan drew in a breath. “But it’s my fault. He wouldn’t know if I hadn’t said something in the first place.”

  She didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, she turned it over and looked at the back of it. Then she looked up at him. “I only wanted to protect you. It wasn’t about hiding from anyone. I’m not ashamed of you, Ryan. You have to know that.”

  He knew she was concerned about his place on the team, about what the colonel would say when he found out. But it was odd to hear her say she’d wanted to protect him when that was his job. Protecting her. Keeping her safe.

&n
bsp; “I know. But you let me worry about me, okay? You’ve got enough to worry about with the baby. I need you healthy. He needs you healthy.”

  Her smile was soft. “Or she.”

  “Yeah, or she. I don’t much care so long as everything is okay.” He tipped his chin at the food. “Why don’t you sit down and let me get it?”

  “I can manage, Ryan,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor now. “Save it for when I look like I’ve got a bowling ball in my belly.”

  She peered over his shoulder, her expression firming. Then she tugged him back toward the long table where his team, and much of Echo Squad, sat. When they got there, she didn’t let go of his hand.

  “Yes,” she said to no one in particular, “I’m pregnant. Yes, Ryan is the father. No, it’s none of your business what happens between us. If we get married, you’ll all be invited to the ceremony. And if we don’t, you’ll still be invited to the baby shower. Is that enough for you jerks, or do you need more details?”

  There was coughing and the shuffling of feet.

  “Uh, congratulations,” Fiddler said. “I’m good.”

  “Yep, good,” Dexter “Double Dee” Davidson replied. Knight Rider and Big Mac echoed him.

  Iceman stood up and came over to give her a quick hug. “Congrats,” he said. “Babies are awesome.”

  Billy the Kid tipped his chin. “Awesome news. Congrats.”

  Matt’s grin was huge. “Our kids can play together,” he said. “Evie’s going to be excited as hell.”

  Echo Squad’s guys merely shrugged and offered their congratulations. Brandy was the only one who looked kinda confused. Then he stood and offered his hand to Ryan. They stood there for a long moment, neither speaking, the tension in the air evident.

  “You take care of her, Flash. She deserves the best you’ve got.”

  “I know that, man. It’s what I intend to do.”

  They exchanged a long look that Ryan knew had little to do with Emily being pregnant and everything to do with the idea she was planning to meet with Hassan Mustafa while carrying half a million in cash. Neither of them wanted that meeting to take place.

  Ryan gave his head a small shake to signify he understood, and Brandy nodded. They dropped the handshake, and Ryan made room for Emily at the table. She went back to the food line to get her breakfast, and Ryan met Brandy’s gaze again. Then he turned to Matt, who was farther down the table.

  “Any word from HQ about the hostages?”

  “The analysts are studying satellite images of the Lost City from the night the abduction happened. They’re hoping for a trail that leads them to where the hostages are being kept.”

  Desert sands shifted, but there could be something from the night the hostages were taken. A heat signature leading in a certain direction perhaps. They could then plot out the coordinates of the path and see where it led.

  Matt’s gaze met his, then shifted to Brandy. “We’re doing the best we can to find them before tomorrow’s meeting.”

  He glanced at Emily, who was currently preoccupied with filling her plate and talking to the dude who’d been with her yesterday when she’d gone to meet Mustafa. Ryan had watched that meeting from across the street, his muscles straining with the effort not to go to her side. She’d handled herself just fine—but he didn’t trust Hassan Mustafa or his motives.

  “She can’t go to that meeting, Richie. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I know, mon ami. We’ll get it worked out.”

  Ryan nodded and turned his attention back to Emily as she strode toward him, a soft smile on her face when their gazes met. His heart flipped and his gut churned with fresh need and possessiveness.

  Whether they worked it out or not, he wasn’t letting her go to that meeting.

  *

  “Any idea who this Raja could be?”

  Emily glanced up at Ian. She was sitting in his office, having her daily briefing and not paying half as much attention as she should to what he was saying. But she had been thinking about Raja—when she wasn’t totally overwhelmed by Ryan, that is.

  “Not really. The women I knew weren’t involved in the organization any more than I was. We were wives, nothing more. Not fit for anything other than gracing our husband’s beds and taking care of their domestic needs.”

  “No, the Freedom Force has never been a woman-friendly outfit, have they?”

  “Understatement. They’d like to take away any and all rights woman have gained in the Arab world. Women should be veiled, silent, and biddable.”

  “Yet Zaran taught you to shoot.”

  Her grandfather had wanted to teach her. He’d taught Victoria—but then he’d died, and she’d never learned until Zaran taught her.

  “I think it amused him. Plus I’m American.” Zaran had let her listen in during his meetings sometimes. He’d liked talking about himself, and it was much easier to do that if she was a witness to his greatness. At the time, she’d felt special. Now she knew it was really all about him.

  And she’d never been a witness to any discussions involving terror attacks. She liked to think she would have escaped somehow if that had been the case. No, she’d just thought that Zaran was a revolutionary, an intellectual. Until it was too late and she’d realized that he was fighting for more than Qu’rimi independence.

  She toyed with a pen she’d taken from Ian’s desk, flipping it up and down on her leg. “I don’t know that a woman could come from the outside, though, and enter at such a level. It would need to be someone who was already in the inner circle. And I wasn’t privy to the highest echelons of the organization—but I could see perhaps a wife of a powerful man taking control if something happened to him.”

  “Supreme control though. That’s pretty astounding.”

  “It definitely is. I don’t know who could have accomplished it. I met many of the women, and none struck me as being so cold-blooded they could manage it. On the other hand, when faced with the loss of a lifestyle, who knows what someone is capable of?”

  Ian looked thoughtful. “Yes, this is certainly true.” He leaned back on his chair and fixed her with a look that she would have said contained more than a modicum of concern. “So, the rumor is you’re pregnant. Is it true?”

  It took her a second to recover. Of course the truth was running rampant around the compound now, but she would have thought Jared would have told Ian right away. Clearly he hadn’t.

  “Yes, it’s true.”

  “Planning to continue the pregnancy?”

  It was a legitimate question, but it stunned her nevertheless. Ian didn’t know what she’d gone through with Zaran—that this baby was not only a surprise, but something of a miracle to her.

  “I am. Which means I’ll need to go back to the States soon, I suppose.”

  Ian’s dark eyes gave nothing away. “I suppose so… Is Ryan Gordon the father?”

  “He is… why the twenty questions, Ian?”

  He shrugged. “I’d like to know what I’m dealing with when tomorrow comes.”

  “He won’t interfere with the meeting. It’s too important, and he knows it.”

  “That’s good.”

  Emily sucked in a breath and asked the question she’d been dreading. “Will this be enough for me? Will you clear my name?”

  Ian’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know, Emily. It’s not up to me. I’ll do what I can… but there are no guarantees. I think my contacts expected you to be with us a bit longer. Your knowledge is valuable.”

  Her heart thumped. “Yes, and I still have it. Just because I go back to DC doesn’t mean I can’t be useful somehow.”

  “I’ll pass that on. But no promises, Emily. I can’t give you false hope.”

  Frustration hammered her. “I’ve done a lot. I’ve gotten Mustafa to trust me, and he’s given us good information in the past two months. I would have liked to have gone inside again—but that’s not happening now. Still, I know things about their structure and their communication. I�
��d appreciate it if you’d stress that to whoever holds my future in their hands.”

  The look he gave her was full of sympathy. “I promise you I will.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. There was nothing more she could do, nothing more she could ask for. But it was hard not to know, hard to imagine everything she’d done hadn’t been enough. She put her hand over her belly automatically, wanting to protect her baby. Wanting the best for him or her.

  Her cell phone buzzed against her leg, startling her. She fished it from her pocket and looked at the display. Then she looked up at Ian as she answered in the Qu’rimi dialect. He watched her carefully, but she focused on the call, her heart pounding at the voice on the other end.

  “You must come today,” Hassan Mustafa said. “They are moving the hostages tonight.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “Yes. You must come. And bring my money.”

  “Tell me where they are and I’ll make sure you get the money. There’s no time to waste.”

  He snorted. “I am no fool, Light of Zaran. You will come to the café in three hours. And you will have my money.”

  The line went dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “IT’S A HIGH-TRAFFIC AREA IN broad daylight,” Emily said. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Ryan stood with arms folded over his wide chest, his expression hard and angry. Nick didn’t look much better. The rest of the guys were in full mission-planning mode, so they weren’t nearly as pissed off as her lover and her sister’s fiancé. After Mustafa called, she and Ian had sent for HOT so they could start to prepare for the operation to rescue the hostages. They needed to be ready to go when she got the location out of her contact. They most likely wouldn’t go until it was dark, but they would get into position long before then. As soon as the time was right, they’d descend on the Freedom Force’s hideout and liberate the hostages.

  Emily’s heart fluttered with excitement and apprehension. Soon, if all went well, they’d know where Linda Cooper and her colleagues were. And Linda would be reunited with her husband before another day passed.

  “I don’t like it,” Ryan said. “He knows we’re planning something, and he threw a curveball to disrupt those plans.”