Mack had to be the most infuriating man on Earth—and she couldn’t hear his voice without having her insides twist with the need to have him.
At the moment he was assaulting her weak spot, which he’d figured out at some point during their brief association.
Twenty-four hours they’d known each other—a little less actually—yet he already knew that the heat of his mouth against her ear had her insides turning molten. He was taking full advantage of that now.
As he nipped at her earlobe, Lydia decided two could play at this game. She reached between them, blindly working on opening the buckle of the belt he wore.
He pulled back enough she could see his smile. “What are you doing?”
“Taking what I want.” Her own words, delivered in a low and sultry sex kitten voice she’d never heard come out of her own mouth before, shocked her.
Where had that come from? Where had the shy, insecure girl she’d been when she woke yesterday gone?
He lifted a brow. “Go right ahead.”
Mack shifted so he was sitting next to her, giving her full access to him and his pants.
Now that she had that access, she was going to have to use it.
A small case of stage fright hit as she moved off the sofa to kneel between his feet on the floor. She reached up for the fly of his khakis, undoing the button and lowering the zipper as her mouth went dry.
Lydia wasn’t used to being the one in charge. Setting the pace. Making the moves. Undressing a man. And was he ever a man. One big, hard man.
That was more than proven as she slipped his length free of the boxer briefs she’d exposed.
He watched her progress with heavily lidded eyes. His breathing deepened as she took him in her hand.
“What are you gonna do with that?” he asked, his voice husky.
“This.” Lydia leaned forward and slid him between her lips.
He reached down to lay his palm against the back of her head and hissed in a breath when she sank lower over him.
Mack slid down on the sofa, driving him deeper into her throat. He groaned in reaction.
Lydia could count the number of times she’d done this on one hand and still have fingers left over, but judging by his reaction, she was doing all right.
That gave her the confidence to attack the job at hand with more enthusiasm. He rewarded her effort with a mumbled cuss that she chose to interpret as a compliment.
She’d been unable to resist him, even when she should have, such as today in the kitchen. Now, she wanted him to lose control because of her.
It seemed her plan was working. Mack thrust into her mouth as she worked him with hand and tongue until she heard him groan.
Inspired, she moved faster, working him harder. His quickened motion, his breathing getting faster, his moans louder, all told her he was close even before he held deep and she tasted his release.
A few more pulses and he slumped against the cushions, panting, with barely enough breath to say, “Holy shit, that was good.”
Silly girl that she was, she couldn’t have asked for better praise. She beamed at his words, until he leaned forward, reached down behind her and slipped her dress up over her ass.
He slid his hand beneath her underwear, then breached her with his fingers.
Briefly she’d felt as if she’d been in charge. Even on her knees, while he’d been in her mouth she’d controlled him. She’d dictated his pleasure.
That feeling was completely gone. The power had shifted. It was clear Mack held it now, as surely as his hands gripped the fleshy globes of her ass.
The sound of a slap echoed off the walls as he brought a palm down against one of her butt cheeks, leaving a hot sting behind.
Lydia sucked in a sharp breath that elicited a satisfied smile from Mack.
“I do love you on your knees, but I want you on them on my bed. I’ve got big plans for you in that position.”
She had no desire for him to see her big naked butt from behind. And she had no idea what his plans for her were, so she should have had plenty of doubt about doing this.
But there was no question as to what her answer would be. Her breath was coming faster already and they hadn’t even gotten to the bedroom yet.
Lydia swallowed. “Okay.”
CHAPTER 11
Mack could get used to this. Lounging in his big, soft bed. The warm body pressed next to him. The feeling of being so relaxed he could fall into a light sleep. The satisfying knowledge that after he dozed for a bit he could wake up, enjoy her and then sleep some more.
Would this get old after a while? Maybe. Probably.
Who knew? He could only imagine he wouldn’t get tired of any of it for a good long while.
After all the months he’d spent working vampire hours, trying to sleep during the day while in a crappy rack in a room full of guys, he figured it would be quite a while before he got tired of this bed. Or this woman.
Lydia had proven more than once tonight she could spit anger at him one moment, then nearly bring him to his knees just from seeing her naked in front of him on hers.
Oh yeah. It would be a good long time before he’d tire of this spitfire’s smart sexy mouth, and for once he wasn’t just thinking about the way she’d used it on him today.
His cell phone on the nightstand buzzed with a text alert. He glanced at the time on the clock and groaned. The glowing numbers showed eleven-sixteen.
A text coming through this late at night could only mean one thing. There was something happening in the world he needed to know about. Something that could get him called in.
Another time, with a different girl in his bed, and he’d welcome the action.
Not tonight.
He glanced at Lydia. The room was so dark he could barely make out her features but he could hear her breathing, slow and steady.
Before the alert went off again, he reached for the phone and swiped the screen.
A text from Rocky, one of his teammates, appeared.
You watching TV?
These guys didn’t text at twenty-three hundred on a Sunday night with idle chatter about what show was on television.
This couldn’t be good. Something was definitely up.
No. Should I? Mack finished punching in the reply and hit send.
Yup
That single texted word from Rocky had Mack drawing in a breath as he bit back a curse. At least it wasn’t from command. He wasn’t being recalled, but if shit was going down somewhere it wouldn’t be long before he was.
Then what?
How would he explain to Lydia he had to leave in the middle of the night when he hadn’t been honest with her about what his job really entailed?
Hopefully he was worrying about nothing. He still needed to get up and see what was happening though. With one more glance at the sleeping woman next to him, Mack flipped back the covers and stood.
His foot connected with fabric on the floor. Reaching down his hand hit on his underwear. That would be good enough to sit in his own living room in the middle of the night.
He managed to wrestle the briefs over his feet and up his legs while still holding his phone and without falling over. Chalk one up to all the PT and obstacle courses he’d run over his career that had honed his sense of balance.
Creeping out of the bedroom doorway, he pulled the door closed behind him.
In the living room, he hit the power button on the television. The glow lit the room enough he didn’t need to turn on the lamp.
He lowered the volume so as not to disturb Lydia and glanced at the screen. He had been about to switch to a cable news channel when he saw he wouldn’t have to. The network station that was already on displayed the headline that Rocky must have been texting him about.
At least 20 dead in hotel attack. Unknown number of hostages still being held.
Mack let out a breath of acceptance and sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward to better hear.
Hostages. That meant it was an ongoing situation, but it also meant that time was of the essence and the UN Security Forces would most likely bring in teams already on the ground nearby rather than risk the time it would take to fly in a unit from the States.
The words on the screen changed.
Gunmen shouted “Allahu akbar”.
The terrorists’ favorite battle cry. That little piece of info put this situation right inside the Naval Special Warfare Development Group’s core goals and responsibilities—fighting terrorism around the globe.
Mack strained to hear what country he could very well be heading to next.
A map flashed onto the screen with the country of Mali highlighted in yellow.
Africa. He’d just left there days ago.
“No group has come forward to claim responsibility,” the on screen reporter announced.
A small group of gunman hitting a soft target—it could be anybody. Boko Haram. ISIS. Hell, it could be a small cell of sympathizers or a radical faction trying to make a name for themselves.
“Mack?” Lydia’s sleepy voice preceded her entrance into the living room.
She was dragging his comforter behind her as she wrapped it around herself. She looked so much like a little kid dragging around her blanket that he had to smile.
“Hey. Sorry if I woke you.”
“It’s okay.” She managed to sit next to him on the sofa without tripping on the fabric. She focused sleepy eyes on the television. “What’s going on?”
“Hostage situation.” He pulled her back against him welcoming the combined warmth of Lydia and the bedclothes.
The room was cool since he slept better when he kept the thermostat set low, but that was when he was in bed, not on the sofa in nothing but his underwear.