do was look at him.
“Are you asking me for me, Leese?”
She drew a sharp breath as he put his hands at her waist, steadying her. She was so dizzy from the Akavit. And from him. From the look in his eyes, like an invitation, a question and a challenge all rolled into one.
“Oh… no… not really.” She said no, but her head bobbed yes. “But sort of. Okay, yes.”
“That wasn’t very clear.”
“Okay, yes… I... I want you.” She swallowed around her confession. “I mean, I wasn’t asking you to, you know, do anything about it right this very second. I was just... answering your question.”
His hands slid up her sides and around her back to her shoulders. The warmth coming off his palms amplified ten times through her body as he pulled her closer to him. They locked gazes and his eyes looked hungry.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Answering the question you didn’t ask.”
He brushed his lips past hers and they breathed cheek-to-cheek, feeling each other out again after the long absence.
Then he was kissing her, hard, like he was reminding himself of every little millimeter of her mouth, stroking her tongue with his and sharing her breath.
She wound her arms around his neck, trying to keep up with him, their breathing, the pace of their mutual discovery. Beneath the alcohol, he tasted fresh, light, clean. Her crotch was directly over his and she felt his erection through the denim, pressing up against her thigh.
So, I do appeal to this God-like creature, after all.
That was far more intoxicating than any alcohol.
Ric pulled away gently and cupped her face as she panted her way back to normal breathing. “I think that’s a good place to leave things tonight.”
She staggered off him backwards as he stood, feeling winded again at his rejection, but she understood it. They’d both had a lot to drink. Too much. No one here was thinking clearly.
“Got any plans for tomorrow yet, Leesa?”
“Uhhh... no.”
“Good. Meet me at the shooting range at HQ—thirteen-hundred hours.” He left a kiss on top of her head and headed up to his room.
She stared dumbly after him.
Thirteen-hundred hours? For God’s sake. What was wrong with one o’clock?
If this ‘mentor,’ Arensen, had turned Ric into a military jerk over the last four years, she might ditch the target practice and shoot at him, instead.
Chapter 3
Ryker Arms headquarters was only about a mile from home, and Annalesa pulled her rental car up and threw it into park, glancing around. It had been a long time since she’d been there. New buildings she didn’t recognize had sprouted up. They’d expanded the manufacturing site a lot since the last time she’d been home, and there was a cement building where the range used to be, something the size of a five-or-six-bedroom apartment.
What in the world?
There was a yard to the left, as stern and functional as the sign on the perimeter gate that read, ‘Kill House’. A group of men in the yard were strapping on tactical gear, helped by two guys in civvies. She got out of the car and pocketed her keys, making sure to lock the door—not that anyone would dare steal anything here.
The temperature had risen since breakfast, so she pulled off her hoodie and tied it around her waist. It was warm enough to walk around in jeans and a tank-tee. Too warm, really. She fanned her face a little. She’d probably regret the jeans too, after a while.
She saw him as she slipped through the gate, drawing glances from some of the men. Ric was bent over in the corner, yanking the laces on his boots and making low conversation with a man who had cropped blond-grey hair. The man looked vaguely familiar. The older man said something to make Ric laugh.
A little hitch jolted inside her—Ric’s whole face lit up when he smiled now. She’d never seen him look so relaxed