Under Fire (Elite Force #3)

Under Fire (Elite Force #3) Page 26

Now that just wasn’t very nice.

If only she could put this scene on pause and pull her shirt back over her head, she would feel more comfortable telling him so.

“But I really am his wife.” The lie rolled too easily off her tongue. She stepped up behind Liam, which served the double duty of shielding that gun of his and giving her the chance to pull on her T-shirt.

She spoke over Liam’s shoulder. “We were playacting here. Marital bed sex has been getting rather, well, routine. We decided to spice things up, be spontaneous, role-play…” She shook her head, willing another blush up her cheeks. “God, this is embarrassing.”

“But entertaining.” Officer Vogel folded his arms over his chest, bulletproof vest under his shirt giving him extra bulk. “Whatever he paid you, sounds like he got his money’s worth.”

“Now you’re going to be sorry you said that when you realize I really am his legal bride, till death do us part.” She leaned toward the chair for her backpack.

“Halt!” The cop leveled his gun at her in a move so fast, Liam’s hand shot behind his back toward his weapon.

“Wait!” Rachel raised her hands fast.

God help them if Liam pulled his big-ass gun.

Damn it all, she knew better than to reach into her backpack that way. She was just rattled. Her skin still steamed from Liam’s touch and now she was facing down a cop. “Sorry, sir, I should have warned you first. I apologize. May I please get my identification out of my backpack?”

She could see the alarm in Liam’s face, see how badly he wanted to shout no, no, and hell no. He thought she was about to make them completely traceable to here. But she couldn’t explain.

He might have a plan A, B, and C, but she actually had a plan Z.

Holding her backpack, she thrust her hands out. “If you would prefer, you can go through it yourself.”

Please, please, she hoped he wouldn’t accept her bluff, since she had the chick gun Liam gave her after they left the Rocha’s home. With some luck, Officer Vogel would prefer to keep his hands free for his own weapon.

“Ma’am, you may get your ID, but go very slowly. No sudden moves or we’re finishing this at the station.”

She set the bag back on the table and pulled out the leather pouch. Only a flicker of surprise flashed through Liam’s eyes before he shielded his expression again.

Rachel plucked free the fake identifications that Sunny had given her, ones for a husband and wife. She prayed the grainy photos would pass muster. The dim lighting was in their favor.

“Here’s my driver’s license from our home state of Oregon. And here’s my husband’s identification as well. Phil and Audrey Franklin. On the bed over there are our family pets, Disco and Fang.”

Liam glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

She babbled on nervously, while Officer Vogel flipped the IDs over. “Phil didn’t have gray hairs yet in this photo, but he had the picture made back when he was using that Grecian Formula because he was worried about losing his masculinity.”

Choking on a cough, Liam scratched the back of his neck.

She forged ahead. “And what do you know? All we really needed was a vacation in Florida and some naughty fantasies.”

Frowning, Vogel passed the pair of IDs back to her. “These actually appear to be in order. You two should really be more careful. Places like this aren’t the safest. People usually come here to find something bad or hide from something even worse. Understand, ma’am?”

“Completely.”

“And Mr. Franklin, next time, just pretend to pick her up in a nice hotel bar and get a room, preferably one that sports clean sheets, okay? Protect your wife like a good husband.”

“Will do, Officer,” Liam answered, tight-lipped. He closed and locked the door. He flattened his hands on the frame.

His back expanded with a deep sigh before he turned around to face her again. “Wanna tell me what’s going on with our IDs, Mrs. Franklin?”

Liam took in Rachel’s tousled hair and plumped lips. She looked like a woman who’d been doing exactly what they had been doing five minutes ago.

Or rather, what they’d almost done before the cop interrupted.

Anger churned in his gut with an emotion he hadn’t felt in so long he almost didn’t recognize it. Fear. Fear for Rachel set his stomach burning with acid. “Well? Anything to say?”

“Should we leave now?”

He considered it. Then shook his head. “If we bolt, Officer Vogel might think we have something to hide, and the less he thinks about us, the better. Then there’s that television crew. We’re better off staying here for now.”

“I can see that… Mr. Franklin.” Her mouth twitched again.

“You’ve got a warped sense of humor, Mrs. Franklin.”

Rachel stood toe-to-toe with him, sexy and seemingly unaffected by how close they’d been to deep, deep trouble. “Liam, you’re not going to stare me down with that grim ‘I’m in charge’ face, so take it down a notch.”

Grim? Grim? He wasn’t grim. He was the fun guy, the team’s cool CRO, the one who made people laugh and unified a group. Or rather he had been until about six months ago, when someone had kicked the props out from under his world.

“Then how about some answers, Rachel? What’s up with the Franklin family fake IDs, and is there anything else in that bag I should know about?” Needing distance from the draw of her, the need to pull her close and safe, he placed his weapon on the table beside her backpack. “Keep in mind, I do not like being lied to.”

Really didn’t like it, especially after marriage number two.

“Sunny gave me the extra identification, just in case.” She passed the pouch to him. “There was no need to tell you unless we needed it. Which we did.”

He thumbed the well-worn leather. “And that’s all?”

“That’s it.” She crossed her arms, which plumped her bra-less br**sts against the snug T-shirt. “Come on, Liam, you have to admit what happened with Officer Vogel would be funny any other time.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Maybe you need to.” She flattened her hands to his chest. “This will make for a great bar story some day. Maybe you’ll even get a new call sign out of it… like John, perhaps.”

He bit back the urge to laugh, humor battling with anger.

Damn. Just damn. He was already on the edge, and seeing her like that? His body throbbed to life again with memories of how close they been to hooking up.

He took a step toward her, his boot crackling a twenty-dollar bill on the carpet. “You like to make up sex games, Mrs. Franklin?”

“My fantasies about you are the real kind, Liam.” She draped her arms over his shoulders, moving in close where there was no mistaking the honesty in her eyes. “I just want to be with you right now. In a bed or against the door. It doesn’t matter as long as we let this happen, uncap the steam and tension that’s building inside me until I’m going to scream if I don’t get relief. For some reason I don’t understand, and quite frankly am scared to analyze right now, you’re the only man I want to ease this ache.”

He knuckled back her hair and drew her to him until her br**sts skimmed his chest. “What about the questionable sheets?”

One step at a time, she backed him toward the door. “We’ll start here, and move to the shower next. Skip the bed altogether.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Arms around her waist, he lifted her off the floor until she was level with him.

Turning, he planted her against the locked door, already kissing before her back met the panel. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him nearer. The ache to have her sliced him clean through again, the edge sharper, given how close they’d come to having everything blow up in their faces.

She unfastened one button at a time along the fly of his jeans. “No more finesse. No more waiting.” She slipped her hands inside his boxers, right alongside his erection, without touching. “I hurt from wanting you.”

Then her cool hands closed around him.

He fought down the need to finish now. He tore her shirt down the middle and latched onto her nipple. Her grip on him tightened in time with her groan. He completely agreed.

Reaching, he clapped a hand on the table and snagged a condom. She picked it from his hand, tugging it open. He worked the zipper down on her shorts, sweeping the panties along with it. He stroked and lingered along her slick warmth. She rocked against his touch, breathy sighs encouraging him. She kicked her clothes aside as she sheathed him.

Pressing his forehead into her hair, he struggled to keep himself in check.

“Liam, no more waiting. We’ll go fast now, and slow later in the shower. Then slow again wherever you choose. Stop thinking, analyzing, protecting, and just take me…” She hitched a leg around his hips. “Take me now, because I’m so close to the edge and I don’t want to go there without you.”

Her words snapped the last of his restraint. She tucked her hands into his jeans and urged him… inside. Her damp heat clamped around him. Her br**sts beaded tighter against his chest. He thrust into her again and again. Thoughts of threats outside scattered from his brain and everything faded except for the feel of her. The whisper of her voice as she gasped in pleasure, telling him she was close, so very close…

She came apart and he had to watch every second. Take in this moment that had haunted his frustrated dreams for six months.

They’d been through so much in the past couple of days—six months ago as well. There hadn’t been anyone since he’d seen her for the first time. He’d told himself he was too busy for a relationship, but he knew now he’d been burning for her. He’d been grieving over losing her in a way he’d never done for any woman before, not even a wife.

Rachel splayed her hands on the wet tiles, the aftermath of her third release still rippling through her. Pleasure tingled like the beads of water from the shower washing over her again and again.

Her hands fell to rest on Liam’s head, holding on to his saturated hair as he knelt between her legs. His unshaven face rasped against the tender flesh of her thighs. He eased his tongue along the tight bundle of nerves, drawing out the last flashes of pleasure until her knees gave way.

He caught her, his hands big and strong, triggering another reverberation through her. She leaned into him as he reclined in the tub, taking her weight as she blanketed his body with hers. A sigh of contentment vibrated inside her. Silently, he toed the shower off, switching to the faucet and closing the drain.

Earlier, coming together had been impulsive. Reactive. Riding the wave of adrenaline from so many close calls. And yes, even fueled by all the talk of being a couple playing out fantasies to spark up their sex life.

Right now, being naked and vulnerable with Liam? Things got complicated. This was about emotions. About unresolved issues between them from six months ago.

She’d deluded herself since leaving the Bahamas that she could avoid these feelings if she avoided the man. Clearly, that wasn’t true.

Her legs pressed against his hips, one leg against his right buttock, where she’d found a green footprint tattoo. He’d told her it was standard for PJs, in honor of the earlier days when helicopters called Jolly Green Giants flew them around. There were so many things left to learn about him, so many things she wanted to know. Sure, she’d heard about his ex-wives and met the members of his team on the job.

But what about his childhood? What had shaped him into the adult he’d become? She knew none of those private details about the man she’d already let have such access to her own life, her body, and maybe her heart.

She sipped beads of water from his chest, kissing her way along his collarbone. “I told you about my mom. Tell me about your family.”