Page 8 of Atlanta Heat (Tempting SEALs 6)

“This isn’t a very good idea.” She licked her dry lips nervously, wondering why it was stronger, why it was hotter than that first kiss a month before, why it made her weaker, made her burn brighter.

He snorted as he raised his head. “No kidding. The last time the admiral caught me groping you I lost rank. Maybe you owe me for that, Emerson. From lieutenant to junior lieutenant isn’t fun and games. I should at least get a taste of what I paid for, don’t you think?”

Hurt flashed inside her. “I had nothing to do with that.”

He shrugged as she jerked away from him. “The admiral might have ignored that last little infraction if he hadn’t caught me devouring your tits. I think that tipped the balance.”

Emerson felt the flush burning in her face and the anger blooming in her mind.

“He didn’t see anything.” She could feel the breath strangling in her throat at the thought of what her godfather had walked in on and the lecture he had given her hours later.

“He didn’t have to see.” Macey’s voice dropped, the arousal that still burned in his eyes brightening as his gaze flickered over her body. “The position of my head was self-explanatory. And if you don’t stop pushing me, sweetheart, you’re going to find my lips there again, and next time, I won’t stop. Now, go shower, crawl into bed, and stop arguing with me. Arguing with you just makes me harder.”

It made him harder? It was making her wetter. And if she didn’t get out of this secured basement that he called a cave and away from him, then it was going to make her jump feet-first into a relationship that she knew had the potential to break her heart.

He didn’t want her, he wanted her body. He didn’t want her heart, he just wanted sex. And reminding herself wasn’t easy when he was standing there, his jeans straining with his erection, his gaze hot and hungry. She was terribly afraid that reminding herself was going to do very little good.

FOUR

“COME ON, WE BOTH need to get some rest.” Macey forced himself to ignore the hard-on torturing him. He had his pet snake to put away before she went to bed. Drack was his defense. It hated guns, and anyone with the ability to access his cave would no doubt be packing a gun. He didn’t think Emerson would appreciate curling up with a full-grown anaconda on her first night here.

Besides, there was something in her eyes that pricked at his heart, that had him releasing her slowly and stepping back. Not exactly fear of him, but there was fear there, uncertainty, innocence. And the look didn’t make sense to him.

He knew she’d had lovers before, he’d made it his business to know. He knew her medical history and the fact that she had lost her virginity between the ages of eighteen and nineteen.

She wasn’t promiscuous, but he knew she wasn’t a prude. Unfortunately, she might be too damned innocent for the likes of him, because the things he wanted to do with her would have had a call girl blushing.

She didn’t speak as he turned away and opened the bedroom door. Flipping the lights on, Macey had to clench his teeth against the sight of the huge bed across the room: plenty large enough for two people to play some hellaciously erotic games on.

Dumb thought, he told himself, shaking his head as he felt her move into the room cautiously.

Striding to the walk-in closet, he pulled one of his t-shirts from one of the drawers built in beneath the hanging clothes. From another drawer he pulled free a pair of his sister Stacey’s cotton leggings. She was always leaving clothes scattered around the upper level of the house.

Moving from the closet he glanced at where Emerson stood in the center of the room, staring around it, resignation filling her face.

She might as well resign herself to it. Other than the bolt hole, this place was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. There was no getting in and no getting out without his help.

“Shower’s in here.” He moved to the door at the far end of the room, opened it, and flipped the lights on. “Towels and washrags are under the sink, fresh soap, both bar and that shower gel gunk my sister likes, is on the shelf beside the tub. Get whatever you need.”

“Now you have a sister, too.” She was leaning against the doorframe, looking around the bathroom with hazel eyes that were gleaming a brighter green than before. “Guess you weren’t hatched after all, Macey.”

“Guess I wasn’t,” he drawled, his lips quirking as he watched white, sharp little teeth nibble at her lower lip.

She was nervous. He rarely saw Emerson nervous, and had never seen her uncertain, until now. Seeing it in her made him want to kill. It made him wish he was hunting terrorists with Nathan and drawing their blood. It plain pissed him off that Emerson would know so much as a moment of uncertainty or fear.

He watched as she backed out of the doorway and turned to the bedroom again. Her shoulders were stiff, her head held high, and as he moved around her he caught the flicker of indecision on her

face. “I want you to promise me you won’t try to leave while I’m trying to sleep, Em.”

“I am not stupid, Macey.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid,” he assured her. “But you’re headstrong as hell. The admiral gave the orders, sweetheart; calling him or trying to run to him isn’t going to do anything but endanger your life. And if I have to stand and listen to another bastard strike you, I just might have to lose my temper.”

He reached out to run the backs of his fingers over the bruise that had formed on her cheek, remembering the killing rage that had swept through him when he heard the blow.

“It wouldn’t do a lot for me, either,” she assured him, pulling away from him as a flush brightened her cheeks and renewed arousal glittered in her eyes.

Oh, she was hot. As hot as he was and just as ready for bedroom aerobics as he was; she was just more cautious.

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