Mercy and Mayhem Men of Mercy(31)

"Thought I'd impress you since this is our first date. Let me take you on the grand tour of the mansion."

First date? Had he really just said that? Her irritation with him would return, no doubt, and he would be stuck dealing with a hostile female the rest of the night because suddenly his dick had started thinking instead of his brain.

Marley's grin grew wider and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to say, this is the best first date I've been on in over a year."

Mack's shoulders straightened and his chest swelled up a split second before he got his emotions back under control. "And how many first dates have you been on in the past year?"

"Just one. And so far, you've definitely piqued my interest."





11





What the hell was wrong with her? She'd almost died half a dozen times today, and here she was standing in a cave flirting with Colonel Mack Grey.

He had to be at least ten years older than her, and for the majority of the day he had snapped and barked out commands in the most irritating and infuriating manner. He had maintained a resting stern and irritated expression all day-until right now. The fine worry lines crinkling his eyes eased, and his lips, which she'd thought thin and hard before those soft kisses, stretched into a teasing grin. He towered over her by nearly a foot, but she didn't feel like he was trying to intimidate her with his height like a lot of men did. He seemed confident in his own skin, sure of his decisions and actions.

And he'd been the one to initiate the teasing, hadn't he? And he'd kissed her, too . . . 

She wasn't stupid; the man was interested. And he was currently staring at her with barely veiled hunger. His grin faded and his nostrils flared and she could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The crackling energy between them.

The logical part of her brain knew this was probably just a burn-off from the adrenaline rush of running and fighting for their lives. She'd heard about it often enough-how people had that edge after a near-death experience. That would explain this sudden … there was no other word for it but lust. If they hadn't been through those experiences, she wouldn't be noticing how well the man filled out that black T-shirt stretched so tightly over his hard-cut pecs. Or the way his jaw clenched as he stared down at her like she was his breakfast, lunch, and dinner all rolled into one.

He looked at her in a way that made her feel young and adventurous, and with an intensity that promised earth-shattering sex.

His gaze dropped to her lips and there was a question in his eyes. Marley realized he wasn't asking for permission to kiss her. They both knew there'd be no stopping when they touched this time.

She swallowed, scrambling for a reason to deny this need.

She would probably never see him again after this mission was over. Men like Mack Grey never settled down or got married and had families, and they sure as hell didn't want to take on raising someone else's kid.

She had a turnkey family and a daughter without a father.

But sleeping with the man didn't mean she had to marry him, right? The last guy she'd slept with had become her husband, sure, but that in no way predicated Mack ending up in the same position-or her wanting him to. She and Maddie had a good thing worked out. They were perfectly content in their own life.

So why couldn't Marley take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime situation to have mind-numbing sex with the most handsome, intense man she'd ever laid eyes on, knowing that after this situation was over they would never have to see each other again if she didn't want to-

No matter how much she tried to think of a reason not to indulge herself, she couldn't come up with a single one. And from the way Mack was holding himself back, she'd have to be the one to make the first move.

As unsure of herself as she'd been in her first encounter with him on the airplane, she timidly laid a hand on his chest. Mack jerked and she yanked her hand back as if burnt. God, she was acting like a virgin. She'd had sex before-just because it had been long enough for cobwebs to grow in her panties didn't mean she'd forgotten how to seduce a man.





12





Jesus Christ.

He wasn't a fucking saint. Her fingers burned him like hot coals, sending tendrils of lust shooting straight down into his cock until he was rock hard, more so than the stone floor beneath his feet. Marley didn't need this right now. The dark circles forming under her eyes and dirt smudging her cheeks was a loud proclamation of just how tired she had to be. Air Force or not-she had seen one helluva day.

He was used to shit like this happening. Bombs. Gunfights. Pounding it out to the jungle, fighting off snakes with one hand while popping off evil badasses-it was all a pretty typical day in his schedule. He slept on dirt and sand and rooftops, covered in grime and even chemical weapons. He'd gone days without food and water and shelter. The desert, where he pulled off the majority of his missions, was an unforgiving bitch. There weren't any spare water sources to quench a parched throat, and there weren't any opportunities to leisurely cook for supper over a campfire. When shit hit the fan, your ass better have an MRE tucked in your back pocket along with a spare pouch of water, or you'd end up a dried-out cornhusk in the dirt, held up like a piñata by the local terrorist group to show the seven o'clock news.