Special Ops Rendezvous. Karen Anders
on even more. This close he could see that her eyes were a deep brown, like melted chocolate. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Was that a yes to the chiropractor or yes to being sleepy?”
“You are very pushy.”
“Ha! Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black, Sam?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a hard look. “Don’t patronize me.”
He chuckled and her face softened, her eyes roving over him. Ah, damn, he didn’t need her looking at him as if she was thinking any of those same things in return or getting turned on by him. Temptation, in this case, was not a good thing. He had enough to handle just trying to keep his head on straight—make that both his heads.
He couldn’t afford to be noticing things, or noticing her noticing things, either.
But her gaze stayed on his face and then dipped boldly down to his mouth.
* * *
Olivia had never been one of those coy women. She had always dealt with men just the same as she’d dealt with women. They needed to be handled differently, of course. Men were action-oriented, relied on logic and concise communication. Say exactly what you meant around a man and he would get your meaning every time. Even Olivia found that read-between-the-lines crap some women liked to peddle annoying.
So her reaction to Sam was intense. Much more intense than it had been with any man she’d dated. His looks aside, he was intelligent, compassionate, tough, obviously courageous and had a good sense of humor.
She liked so many things about him, which was good and bad. Like where she was right now, taking his weight against her, touching all that tanned, gorgeous muscle.
She pressed harder into him and he groaned softly, and that had a very volatile effect on her, sizzling her nerve endings. “It will feel better in a minute,” she promised.
“No pain, no gain?”
“Something like that.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, his dark, impossibly thick eyelashes like half-moons on his cheeks. “That feels great,” he said. “You might not do this for a living, but you’re good at it.” The stubble shadowing his jaw accentuated his mouth. She really, really needed to stop looking at that mouth. But the stubble gave him a rugged edge, emphasizing all the more those beautiful lips of his.
She shifted and he tensed. “Don’t move,” she said as she slipped out from behind him, leaving him to recline against the cushions. “Let me work it from the front.”
She dug in again and her hands trembled. She braced her hand beside his head, intending to use her elbow to get at the muscle in his joint, but she lost her focus and her damn mind in the beauty of Sam. Instead of continuing with the massage, she leaned all the way down, bracing her hand on the other side of his head. Fleetingly, she thought this was such a bad idea for so many reasons. But the impulse came over her and she couldn’t seem to help herself. He seemed so alone, so isolated, she wanted to comfort him in a more intimate way. She brushed her lips across his.
His eyes flashed open and he looked up at her with those stark blue eyes. She held his gaze for what felt like forever. She could feel the power of his personality in that gaze even while she could read nothing of his thoughts. She started to draw back, but he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth against his with a soft groan. His movement gave his dog tags a sexy, musical jingle.
The touch of his mouth made her want so much more, that bottom lip, so sensual, so full she couldn’t help using the tip of her tongue to savor the taste and feel of him. His open mouth was so inviting as he groaned again at the slide of her tongue. His chest heaved against hers, the thin T-shirt no barrier against the heat of his broad chest. Her breasts ached, her nipples tightening and hardening. Both of them panting, she took his mouth again. His fingers caressed the back of her neck when she opened her mouth, and the kiss just got hotter.
Warm, moist lips met hers, still open and so inviting, offering. He slipped his tongue inside, tracing slowly around the inner edge of her lips, then slipped deeper, probing, exploring. Olivia tried to catch her breath, but he kept stealing it every time his mouth moved over hers.
The heat flowed down over her, followed by Sam’s hands. He ran his hands down her back, sending shivers, setting off new ones, sliding lower. Desire swelled inside her, pushing aside sanity, blazing a trail for more instinctive responses. She arched against him, losing herself in the kiss and in the moment.
She slid her hand over his dark brown cropped hair, soft and smooth against his scalp. She molded her palms over the curve of his head and slanted her mouth across his as needs took over with a burning edge. His hands slid over her buttocks, kneading, stroking. He caught the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up, his knuckles skimming over the taut muscles of her back, skating along the side of her rib cage. The skin just below her breasts and on her stomach made hard, searing contact with his, and it was her turn to groan.
He was so silky soft and sizzling hot against her. He jerked the T-shirt more and her tight nipples made contact. His whisper of pleasure vibrated against her lips. She felt as if she were tumbling through space, dizzy, hanging on tight to her only anchor. Then suddenly she was on her back looking up into the blazing, passionate eyes of Sam. He dipped his head, focusing on her breasts and she arched in reaction to his gaze.
Then he was at her breast, his tongue grazing against her nipple, his lips tugging gently. The sensation was incredible, setting off a flutter of something wild inside her.
A car alarm close by went off and they both jolted at the sound. Sam lay against her for a moment, tense and alert. Then he sighed when the alarm abruptly cut off.
He looked down at her and swore vehemently as he pushed off her and sat back.
For a moment she let the regret wash through her as his eyes caressed her still. Reluctantly she pulled down her T-shirt and sat up.
He rubbed his hand over his face. “Olivia...”
“I know. There are so many reasons why this would be a bad idea.”
He nodded. “But I want to say the hell with all those reasons.”
“But you’re worried. About me.”
She was trying not to fool herself. She knew he was a stranger, but that kiss...she’d melted into him, disappeared inside him and had been more with him than she’d ever been with anyone in her life. Right or wrong, the feelings were there and they were real.
She just wanted to bury her face in the curve of his neck and start all over again. She didn’t get embarrassed about her feelings like other women, and she sure as hell didn’t get them hurt often. She was methodical about who she chose to date.
Sam...was an American hero, a military man. Normally that would suit her. Gone a good bit of the time was okay in her book, but when she thought about Sam going anywhere, she didn’t like that idea.
He stood and moved away from her as if he didn’t trust himself. “I’m so messed up, Olivia. So messed up. I don’t even know if I’ll ever be right again. Normal. If I am, it’s back to Special Forces for me. Uncle Sam is all I really know.”
“In the short time that I’ve known you, you’ve never sounded so unsure about anything.”
He rubbed his hand over that short sexy hair, and Olivia just wanted to get her hands on him again.
“I don’t really know you, but it must be a trait that runs in your family, because I’m close to spilling my guts and I’m not used to that. I barely talk to my family. In Special Forces showing any weakness is unacceptable. But I can’t go back to my unit until I figure out what happened to me.”
“Sam,” she said, rising and going over to him. “If you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I won’t ever betray your trust. It has to be ironclad if we’re going to weather