Page 6 of Edge of Danger

She grabbed a handful of his sun-bleached hair and pulled on it, forcing his head back so she could kiss his neck. The salty sweat-and-man taste was sharp and savory on her tongue, and she devoured it hungrily.

Death had come calling this morning, and they’d both cheated it. They were alive. Blood coursed hotly through her veins, laced with so much adrenaline she felt like she could fly.

“What’s your name?” he ground out. For emphasis, his tongue swirled inside her ear and made her leg, the one supporting her weight, nearly buckle.

“Piper,” she gasped.

“You’re so damned hot, Piper.”

Said the pot to the kettle. She gasped as he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her entire eight with ease. He spun away from the wall and sat her on the edge of his dining table. She flung open her knees as he surged between them, his hands moving restlessly across her back while his mouth roamed across her face, neck, and shoulders.

She could just eat him alive. “Tell me your name,” she gasped.

“No.”

Bastard. Her nylon ammo vest fell away beneath his nimble fingers.

His shoulder holster dropped away beneath her hands.

Her thigh knife and its garter-sheath hit the ground as he stroked his hand from her hip down her thigh.

Her hands slid down acres of man-chest to his waist, and she fumbled at the buckle she found there. His ammo belt thudded to the floor. “Your name,” she panted.

“No,” he ground out. Her bandolier of shells and flares slid off her shoulder and thunked onto the table behind her.

Taking her with him, he spun away, knocking over a chair in his haste. She oomphed as he backed her into the refrigerator, then returned the favor by spinning him against the wall. A picture frame hit the floor and broke as he yanked her up against him.

She lifted the throwing knife out of the neck sheath behind his head and let it fall to the floor as her insides melted and her body molded to his. She wanted him inside her so bad she could hardly think.

Pocketknives, wrist knives, spare ammo clips, and spotter’s scopes clattered down around them.

They peeled each other’s long-sleeved camouflage shirts off, and he tall but tore her tank top off, shoving it over her head. In return, she shoved her hands underneath his t-shirt.

Lord, his skin was hot to the touch. His abs—holy God. They were slick with a sheen of perspiration, rippling with muscle, and hard as oak. She leaned forward to inhale the musky scent of his deodorant, exploring the male wonderland of his torso with her mouth and hands.

She yanked down his pants zipper, eliciting a groan from him. “Tell me your name,” she demanded yet again.

“Ahh, God, no,” he groaned as her fingers went exploring.

Frustrated at his refusal to give her a name, she staggered a step back from him. Who was she kidding? She was going to have hot monkey sex with him right here, right now, even if she didn’t know his damned name.

They hopped around awkwardly together for a minute like one-legged kangaroos, yanking off their pants and boots, finally managing to discard them. Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her swiftly into the bedroom.

He followed her down to the mattress and she reveled in his weight crushing her. He was as urgent and driven as she was, all restless energy and surging lust as his hands and mouth, teeth and tongue roved across her body hungrily. They rolled and struggled like a pair of wrestlers, testing each other’s power and flexibility in another contest of wills. Eventually, his superior strength began to prevail once more.

Normally, she hated being overpowered by any man. But today, it turned her on like crazy.

He braced himself over her, but she gripped his biceps forcefullly and ground out, “No.”

Disbelief blossomed in his stare.

“Tell. Me. Your. Name,” she bit out from behind clenched teeth. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done: stopping herself from grabbing him and going for it.

“Ian,” he finally groaned.

She drove upward, and his entire body uncoiled as he met her, driving downward and pinning her to the mattress with his glorious size and strength.

“Yes, Ian. Yes. Like that,” she panted. “More.”

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