“Screen off,” she countermanded. “No media.”
Now his eyes glinted. “Screen on. If you don’t want to watch, go away.”
“Screen off.”
“Lieutenant, you’re treading a thin line.”
Temper rerouted outward, toward her. Just as she’d intended. It wasn’t iced yet, no, not yet, she thought. But that would come.
“I have good balance, pal.”
“Then put it to use elsewhere. I don’t want your brandy or your company or your professional advice right at the moment.”
“Fine, I’ll drink the brandy.” She hated brandy. “I’ll stow the professional advice. But,” she said as she sat and curled herself into his lap. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He took her by the shoulders to set her aside. “Then I will.”
She simply locked her arms around his neck. “No, you won’t. Am I this much trouble when I’m in a mood?”
He let out a sigh, then defeated, lowered his forehead to hers. “You’re a constant annoyance to me. I don’t know why I keep you.”
“Me either. Except.” She brushed her lips over his. “This maybe. This is pretty good.” And skimming her fingers through his hair, tipping his head back, kissed him long and slow and deep.
“Eve.” He murmured it, mouth against mouth.
“Let me.” Her lips traced over his chee
ks, soft. Tender. “Just let me. I love you.”
And couldn’t bear to see him hurt. Couldn’t bear to see him weary. They would work, and work together. They would fight, and fight together. But for now she only wanted to give him peace.
He was so strong, that strength both appealed to her and challenged her. Now those muscles were taut and knotted with a tension that so rarely showed. She stroked, letting her hands soothe while her mouth seduced.
So controlled, she thought, shifting to scrape her teeth lightly over his jaw. She found both frustration and security in his control. Now it wavered, and she would exploit the weakness, channel anger into lust.
Her busy hands moved to his shirt, slowly opened buttons. Her lips followed down the trail of exposed flesh to his heart where the beat was strong, but still too steady.
“I love the taste of you.” She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, flicked her tongue over that warming skin. “Everywhere.”
Again she shifted, straddling him now. And when she saw his eyes, the dark smoke of need over the wild blue, the beat of her own blood quickened.
She’d been wrong, she realized. The rage in him wasn’t ready to cool, and wouldn’t be quenched with gentle strokes and quiet sighs. It was heat that would smother heat.
Watching him, she hit the release on her weapon harness, let it slide to the floor behind her. Watching him, she unbuttoned her shirt, shrugged it off. Beneath she wore a thin cotton tank, dipping low. She saw his gaze shift down, felt her nipples throb as if his mouth had already claimed them.
But he didn’t touch her. Knew the moment he did, the chain would break and he’d ravish. Devour, he thought, furious with himself, when she was offering him comfort. He gathered himself, touched a hand lightly to her cheek.
“Let me take you to bed.”
She smiled, and there was nothing comforting about it. “Let’s take each other.” She stretched up, stripping the tank over her head and tossing it aside. “Right here.”
She fisted her hands in his hair, curved her body to his, sliding flesh to flesh. “Put your hands on me,” she demanded, then crushed her mouth to his.
His control snapped. In one violent move she was under him, pinned. He fed on her, filling himself, swallowing each ragged breath. He put his hands on her, taking greedily, recklessly driving her to that first frantic peak.
And when she cried out, he took more.
His mouth closed over her breast, teeth nipping tiny, delicious pains into sensitive flesh. The thrill of it drummed through her so that she arched up, urging him on, digging her nails into his back. She twisted under him, her hands searching, her mouth seeking. Their needs matched, desperation for desperation. And their limbs tangled as they fought with clothes.