Ian stood at the foot of the bed, one hand gripping the heavy post beside him as he stared at her with banked fury.
“No.”
The curse that sizzled from his lips told her that wasn’t an answer he wanted to hear.
He stared around the room then, before pulling a small electronic box from the pocket of his slacks and flipping a switch on it.
Kira came to her knees in the middle of the bed, excitement lancing through her body.
“It’s the new model?” She knew the wand Jason had used, for all its technological advancements, was nothing compared to what he held in his hand.
He flicked her a dubious glare. “Down, girl. You’re not getting it.”
Kira pouted as she placed her hands on her hips and watched him impatiently.
“You could at least let me look at it.”
“Not on your life. I’d never get it back.” He left the device on as he set it on the dresser across from the bed.
Kira stared at it, fascinated by the little blinking lights on the monitor, dying to get her hands on it. She was a freak for security electronics, and the so-far rumor-only Type X electronic detector made her salivate. It detected not just analog or digital listening devices, but also hyperbolic equipment trained in the vicinity as well as GPS technology.
She dragged her gaze from the fascinating little toy and back to the mesmerizing man.
“I don’t need your help.” He stood at the foot of the bed once again, tension humming through his body.
“There’s a price on your head,” she informed him. “It might be for capture only, but that doesn’t make you safe.”
“I’m aware of the price and the fact that it’s rising daily,” he told her softly. “I want you to leave, Kira. When this is over, I’ll find you . . .”
“If you’re still alive to do so?” She moved from the bed, pacing to the small table across from her and the bottle of wine and glasses set out there. “I’m not willing to wait.”
“I can have you pulled off this,” he told her then.
She had known he would play that little ace he thought he had.
She poured two glasses of wine before turning and moving to him. He accepted the glass, still frowning at her, his brows lowered broodingly.
“I have carte blanche, being a contract agent and all.” Kira kept her voice to a mere breath. “You can’t pull me off anything, Ian.”
Frustration gleamed in his eyes. Kira sipped her wine, returned to the bed to stretch out on it and lean back into the mound of pillows.
He still held his wine loosely, close to his thigh, staring at her, working through this new complication, as well as the obvious arousal straining his slacks.
The white cotton shirt he wore outside his pants hung nearly to his thighs, the ultrasoft material giving him a relaxed though sophisticated appearance.
“Would you like to discuss it?” she finally asked, bringing her glass back to her lips.
“Your security is slipping,” he informed her then. “We have the information on your training and your SEAL instructors.”
“Of course you do. So do all the bad guys.” Amusement curled through her. “A knowledge of strength is the best deterrent when it comes to those believing they can slip in on me. If you checked my past out at all, you’d know I’m heavily into deterring problems.”
And being prepared.
He brought the wine to his lips, sipped, then turned and walked back to the sideboard where he placed the delicate glass beside the bottle. When he turned back to her, Kira glimpsed the barely restrained dominance eating at him. His control was shaky, as shaky as her own. Especially when his gaze slid to her breasts where her tight, hard nipples pressed into the thin tank top.
“Do you get off on fucking traitors?” he asked her then. “I wonder if your boss knows about that?”
Kira rolled her eyes. “You’re not a traitor, Ian.”
“You can’t know that for sure, can you, Kira?”
She let a knowing smile shape her lips. “If that were true, you would have already attempted to kill me, not protect me. Forget the protection stuff, okay, lover? It doesn’t work with me.”
She tightened her thighs, an instinctive attempt to hold back the moisture collecting there. She was so wet, so hot, that she knew if he touched her that an orgasm would be imminent. And if she didn’t get off this time, then she was going to shoot him herself.
“What does work with you?” His gaze flicked over her body again. He knew she was aroused, knew she was aching.
“It’s according to what you want.”
“You. Out of Aruba,” he snapped.
Kira sighed with amused indulgence and almost laughed at the male frustration that flashed in his eyes. “It’s not going to happen. Do you have any other desires that you’d like to pass by me?” Her gaze flicked to his thighs then back again as her brow arched in mocking curiosity.
It wasn’t a subtle hint, but she and Ian had passed subtle the first time he had slipped into her condo in Atlanta nearly a year before.
“This is fucking insane.” His voice changed, became harsher, more grating as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.
Kira tensed. Sudden, almost violent arousal poured through her body, speeding her heart to the point that it nearly strangled her as she fought for breath.
The buttons were loosened slowly with the fingers of one hand, revealing a wide, muscular chest covered with a mat of short, silky-looking black hair. Not too thick, but not thin, just enough to rasp a woman’s nipples, cushion or warm them. Her nipples throbbed at the thought.
“Then why are you here?” She could feel the perspiration building between her breasts, moisture gathering more thickly between her thighs.
Rising, she came to her knees once again, watching, mouth watering, as he shed the shirt, shrugging it from his broad, well-sculpted shoulders with a ripple of power that echoed in her womb.
“I’m here because I’m crazy,” he murmured, his legs shifting as he pushed the shoes from his feet while loosening the slender leather belt and the catch of the cool cotton slacks he wore. The zipper eased down.
Kira’s lips parted, her breasts rising and falling furiously as she fought for oxygen. The air was indolent with lust now, thick, heavy, nearly impossible to breathe.
“Are you just playing again?” she whispered, suddenly desperate to know. “Please, Ian, don’t play with me. Not this time.”