Page 59 of Under Fire

“I don’t care,” he said, grabbing his cell. “Let’s get you a dress.”

Looking like a lost fawn, she gripped the railing for stability.

“I’m going to need more than just a dress, you know,” she said.

“What’s your suggestion then?”

She looked left and right, exhaling. “Look… I’ll call Maria and get her to drop me off some supplies, since apparently she loves dressing me up.”

“Dressing you up—?”

“Yes, exactly.”

The look Alisa gave told him something—and his mind immediately wandered to the first day he’d met her, all dressed up in next to nothing. He felt his cock harden just thinking about those fucking shorts and how much he’d wanted to rip them off her, how bad he’d wanted her from the second she’d bent over in front of him, dusting his wood. Fuck, she could dust his wood all day long.

He needed to push Maria a big tip or at least drop a five-star web review, if she’d been behind the shorts.

That morning, his cock saw no relief, aching to the point of pain when Alisa turned and sauntered back up his stairs, emphasizing that she had nothing on underneath the T-shirt. Revealingeverything.

“Damn,” he grunted.

He watched her ass bounce as she crested the top of the staircase. If she was trying to torture him, she was doing it right.

He was growing rabid. Whatever protein shake he’d lined up for after his workout seem paltry compared to sucking up the sweet juice off her pussy. His rough hand gripped the countertop before him, trying to prevent himself from following her.

Cool it, big rig. You’ve got work to do.

Warren paced about his house, focused on getting shit done. His mind oscillated between two things—work and her. He couldn’t rid himself of the question of what the hell Maria was going to dress her up in this time. Was she responsible for the shorts? Why? Hell, he didn’t even give a shit anymore. He just wanted to see Alisa’s perfect body wrapped up in something that he could unwrap—or rip apart. His appetite for her was only deepening, growing harder and harder to control.

Maybe she’d get her fantasy after all. He was losing the ability to listen to the word ‘no’ in his head.

The more entrenched he got, the more invested he was, the more he felt like protecting her was second nature. He was inadvertently giving her more than he’d planned.

At the time they were due to make their exit, to make their drive to the wedding venue, Warren stood in the front hall, adjusting his navy-blue suit. Suit, but no tie. He was an open-collar type of guy, the white of his dress shirt highlighting how dark he’d let his tan get over the summer training. He’d never really looked at himself like that before, never really thought about it—but he wondered what Alisa saw.

He saw a hard-edged SEAL—a workhorse, like one of those Clydesdales. He saw a man who’d gotten gritty, dirty and bloody, and had never really got it all off, not even when he’d come home. He saw a man who had stopped living a life and had started living like a machine.

He saw a man who didn’t stop.

Can’t.

Then he heard high heels hitting the hardwood floor at the bottom of the staircase down the hall. His eyes darted over to Alisa, and he was forced to inhale sharply when he drank her in. He saw a woman in his house who only had eyes for him.

Maria had not disappointed.

In a strapless golden gown, long on one side, but short enough on the other to reveal her long, silky leg, she stunned him. Literally,stunned.

“Christ,” he grumbled, adjusting his watch as she floated toward him.

Her long black hair, shiny and coifed, curled around her. Her bright white smile hit him hard, and his hands shook with need. All he wanted to do was lunge forward, rip that fucking dress off and—

“You okay?” She grinned at him, knowingly flickering her lashes.

He smiled back, readying to say something too clever, but then his gaze dropped once again to her chest, seeing something that spread bitterness in his mouth every time he saw it.

Thatfucking gold chainaround her neck, that damn engagement ring nestled between her delicious breasts. He observed that she’d temporarily secured the break in the chain by leveraging the gold clasp to keep it all together.

The contaminated symbol didn’t deserve to rest against her skin, he sneered silently. The sight wiped whatever smile had been there right off his fucking face. Why she’d bothered to fix it at all, he had no fucking clue. Why couldn’t she just dump the fucking thing? The gold glinting back at him, mocking him—it immediately put him in a goddamn fucking mood.

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