Big Guns Out of Uniform (6 page)

Marianne struggled to breathe. She leaned back on her arms, giving him as much of her as she could. Never in her life had she felt anything more incredible than him tasting her.

Wanting to see him, she started to remove the blindfold, only to find his hands stopping her.

“I thought you wanted to be Ren,” he said.

She hesitated. Ren was the kind of woman who would be in this cave with a stranger, not Marianne Webernec. Marianne always played by the rules. She always played it safe.

Today she didn't want to be a Goody Two-shoes.

“Okay.”

Kyle kissed her shoulder, then turned her over so that she was leaning on her arms and stomach against the rock. Her back was completely exposed to him.

“Mmm,” he breathed, running his hand over her hips as his nails gently scraped her skin and made her tingle all over. “You have the nicest ass I've ever seen.”

He licked his way down her backbone until he reached the sensitive spot at the base of her spine. His hands massaged her thighs, sending ribbons of pleasure through her while his tongue delivered stroke after ecstatic stroke to her flesh.

He slid one finger down her cleft, making her shiver again. “Do you want me inside you, Marianne?”

“Yes.”

He slid two fingers deep inside. She moaned at the ecstasy of his touch as he teased her unmercifully while she slowly rode his fingers.

He leaned his body against her so that she could feel his erection against her lower back as he rained kisses on her neck and shoulders.

She was breathless and weak from the pleasure of his touch. No one had ever been more attentive to her. With Kyle, she actually felt beautiful. Desirable.

And that made her melt.

He moved his hand and then shifted behind her.

Marianne moaned as he slid himself slowly, inch by lush, incredible inch, inside her until he filled her to capacity.

Kyle growled at the feeling of her body welcoming his, of the way she felt as she lowered herself from her tiptoes down until he was even deeper inside her. It took every piece of control he had to make love to her slowly, gently, when what he really wanted to do was ravish her.

Since the moment he'd met her, he'd wanted nothing more than to have her.

And she was so worth it.

He held himself perfectly still as she rode him with soft, long strokes. Grinding his teeth to hold off his orgasm, he cupped her breasts with his hands and let her take her satisfaction first.

Every woman had a rhythm to her, and Marianne's was sweeping and sweet. Slow and sensuous like a gentle breeze.

He savored the sensation of her hips grinding against him, of her sweet low moans of pleasure.

He leaned forward, over her back, and braced one hand beside hers on the rock so that he could use his other hand to stroke her clit in time with their movements.

Marianne groaned aloud as he touched her again. She reveled in the feeling of him behind her and in her while his hand teased her, and when she came, it was so intense that she screamed out.

“That's it, baby,” Kyle whispered in her ear. “Don't hold back on me.”

She didn't. Nor did he. He continued to stroke and tease her until the very last tremor had been gleaned from her body.

Weak, she fell forward.

Kyle picked her up, carried her back to the air mattress on the floor, and removed her blindfold. His smile was dazzling as he covered her with his body and entered her again.

Marianne arched her back, groaning as his hard shaft slid back into her sensitive sheath.

Kyle's heart hammered as he thrust against her, wanting his own satisfaction. Her legs and arms were wrapped about him, cocooning him in her softness.

It was all he'd ever wanted.

Her body was paradise.

And when he found his own release, his head reeled from it. Growling, he buried his face in the fragrant sweetness of her neck and let the pleasure rip through him until he could barely breathe.

Every spasm, every wave, shattered some part of him until he couldn't do anything more than whisper her name.

Now, that had been the best sex of his life.

Weak and spent, he gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest.

Neither spoke for the longest time as they lay there, sheltered together, completely relaxed.

Kyle didn't care if he ever moved again. Nothing could top what he'd just experienced.

“Do you think Tyson will be back after us?”

It took him a second to remember who Tyson was.

“No,” he said. “I secured the perimeter. I'd know if he was anywhere nearby.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. I made certain this place was safe from any intruders.”

Marianne sighed as she lay in the shelter of his arms.

Kyle ran his hand over her soft skin as he savored the feel of her breath on his naked skin. He'd always loved the sensation of feminine flesh against his, but never more than he did at this moment.

How strange that he'd been honest with her, when he'd never told any woman before what he really did for a living. BAD had been set up as a covert, ghost agency. The government, even those who had commissioned their bureau, denied all knowledge of its existence.

The BAD agents answered directly to Joe, who only answered to the president, and not even the president would acknowledge their mandate. Each and every member of BAD was an orphan who had been recruited to lie, steal, cheat, and/or die or kill for their country. Whatever it took to secure their objective, they would do without anything as cumbersome as morals or ethics getting in their way.

They were the modern-day Spartans who either returned with their shield or upon it.

There was no such thing as family for them. The agency was the family.

In this world they only had each other, and up until now that had been fine with Kyle. But his last bout with terrorists that had almost cost him his life had got him to thinking….

He had been trained zealously to guard his country. But what was he really fighting for?

It wasn't until Marianne smiled up at him that he'd remembered.

He fought for those who couldn't fight for themselves.

“Kyle?” Marianne paused as she traced one of the smaller scars along his ribs. “What is this from?”

He glanced at it and the two similar ones below it. “A bullet.”

Marianne frowned at his words. From the sincerity of his eyes, she could tell he was being truthful. “It looks recent.”

“About a month ago.”

Her jaw went slack. “And these?”

“Same.”

She leaned up to study his chest. Now that she was closer, she saw even more of them, and no, they weren't makeup. The scars were real. “How many times have you been shot?”

“What are you asking? How many
total
bullet wounds or how many times has someone shot me up?”

There was a difference? She was aghast at his nonchalance. “Both.”

He actually had to pause to think. “I've had a total of twenty-two bullet holes. Though we're still debating one of them. The doc said she thought it was a bullet that passed clean through, but I think the wound was caused by some shrapnel that hit me when the grenade went off. As for assholes who've taken shots at me, I'm at the unlucky thirteen mark.”

Marianne's jaw opened even more. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, then turned his head and showed her a scar behind his ear.

“That was the first one,” he said, placing his finger over the small round scar. “I was only seventeen and it was a drive-by from a rival gang. They took out my best friend Angelo as we came out of his house, headed for a movie. I got caught in the cross fire.” He shook his head. “It's what got me out of the gang and made me want to do something with my life other than be target practice. Little did I know it would lead me into a field where drive-bys are even more likely than they were in New York.”

She didn't know what to say. Part of her believed him and part of her found it hard to swallow. It was too close to what she would expect from a Rachel Fire hero and too alien to the sheltered world she'd known growing up.

She couldn't imagine being shot.

“You really, truly—swear to the Lord above—are a federal agent?”

He made an X over the center of his chest. “Cross my heart. And hope not to die on my next mission.”

She sat back on her heels. “How long have you been an agent?”

“The last two years.”

“Before that?”

“I was a navy SEAL.”

Yeah, right. “You almost had me going. But for the record, the SEAL thing blew it.”

“I swear,” he said, as if offended by her doubt. “I really was a SEAL. I'd still be one if I hadn't been recruited for BAD.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “What does BAD do?”

“That I can't tell you. Well, I could, but then I'd have to kill you, and no offense, I'm rather attached to you.” He ran his hand down her backside and over her rump. “Especially this part here.”

She squeaked as he clenched a handful of her buttocks.

He pulled her on top of him. Marianne straddled his waist and watched as he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. She felt him stiffen against her hip bone.

Opening his eyes, he stared up at her and cupped her face in his hands. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

“I've never had anyone call me beautiful before. Heck, I had a guy in high school run screaming from the room when he lost a bet and was told he'd have to take me to the prom.”

“He was an idiot.”

She smiled at his words, amazed by them. “Who did you go to the prom with?”

“I didn't.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “My junior year I spent prom night in jail, waiting for my dad to sober up long enough to bail me out, and I didn't have the money to go senior year.”

“Jail?” she asked. “What did you do to go to jail?”

“Nothing too bad. I was in for fighting.”

“Over what?”

“Bella Marino. She broke up with her boyfriend and then threw herself at me. He got pissed and we got into it at the mall. He pulled a knife, I pulled a knife, and they called the cops on us.”

“Kyle!” she said, stunned by his confession. “You're not making up any of this, are you?”

“No.”

She let her breath out slowly as she stared into his blue eyes.

He laced his fingers through her hair. “I'm not proud of my past, Marianne. I've spent most of my life trying to forget it. I just…”

She waited a few minutes until it became apparent he wasn't going to finish his sentence. “You what?” she prompted.

“I don't know. I feel like I can tell you things and I don't know why. It's not something I normally do. Hell, I barely talk to anyone. And then I meet you on the beach and I can't seem to shut my mouth or resist you.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. “I can't resist you, either.”

His cock hardened to full size at her words. He pulled back with a wicked grin.

Marianne melted at the look. He was better than anything she'd ever read in one of her books.

A real-life hero. One with a very sad past. How she wished she could make it up to him.

She moaned as he lifted her up and set her down on top of him. He was so hard and full inside her, and the tip of his shaft went straight into her G-spot from this position.

“Ooo,” she moaned. “You keep doing that and I might not ever let you leave this cave.”

He guided her hips with his hands as he watched her. “You keep doing that and I won't even try.”

Marianne covered his hands with hers and felt the strength of him in his grip. She trailed her gaze over his tawny skin, pausing at the multiple scars. He was her fantasy come to life. Only he was real. His scars were deep, and she suspected he carried a lot more inside than those she saw on his body.

How many more did he carry in his heart?

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“That's a strange question to ask while I'm making love to you.”

“I'm sorry. I guess it was rather nosy.”

He trailed his hand up her body and sank it deep in her hair. “Yes, I have,” he said softly. “And no, I'm not proud of it. My life has been very ugly.”

She held his hand against her cheek and kissed the scars over his knuckles. “I wish I could make it better.”

“Trust me, love. You are.”

She smiled at that.

Kyle raised his hips, tossing her forward, onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over with her until she was pinned under him.