Caught between desire and loyalty…

Derek DiMarzio would do anything for the members of his disgraced Special Forces team—sacrifice his body, help a former teammate with a covert operation to restore their honor, and even go behind enemy lines. He just never expected to want the beautiful woman he found there.

When a sexy stranger asks questions about her brother, Emilie Garza is torn between loyalty to the brother she once idolized and fear of the war-changed man he’s become. Derek’s easy smile and quiet strength tempt Emilie to open up, igniting the desire between them and leading Derek to crave a woman he shouldn’t trust.

As the team’s investigation reveals how powerful their enemies are, Derek and Emilie must prove where their loyalties lie before hearts are broken and lives are lost. Because love is too hard to come by to let slip away…

Emilie stood between Marz’s knees, her face so close to his that the fallen tendrils of hair from her braid created a thin curtain around them.

And inside that bubble, the air suddenly sparked red hot. Marz held back, not wanting to take anything she wasn’t ready to give.

But then she whispered, “Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss was blistering in its intensity. They clutched at one another tightly, lips crashing and sucking and pulling, swallowing each other’s gasps and moans. Marz was rock hard in an instant, and nearly out of his mind with desire. Every masculine urge within him demanded that he bury himself deep inside her and never let go.

“God, Emilie,” he rasped, pulling away from her lips to taste her neck, her collarbone, the skin along the vee of her shirt. His hands dragged down her back, landing on her ass. “Do you know how fucking crazy this skirt has made me all day?”

She shook her head and pressed herself closer. “No,” she said, rubbing her thighs together.

His fingers bunched the soft material higher and higher, until his hands landed on totally bare skin. “Oh, fuck. Tell me you’re wearing panties.”

Her nails lightly scratched down his back, and even over the T-shirt, it set every one of his nerve endings alive. “Thong.”

“Yeah,” he said, his fingers finding and tracing the thin silky line downward, to where her cheeks met.

Emilie moaned. “Derek,” she said, her hips jerking toward him.

“What, baby?” He massaged and lifted the round globes of her ass, allowing his fingers to inch closer and closer to her heat with each teasing squeeze. He licked up her neck. “What?”

“I know we don’t have time,” she whispered as she pressed herself backward toward his exploring fingers.

“Time for what?” he asked, kissing up over her jaw and claiming her mouth again. The pads of his fingertips caressed her opening.

“Oh,” she moaned, her face a mask of pleasured torment. “Time for you to get inside me.”

Fuck. That.

In a few quick moves, he pushed her from between his legs, crossed to shut the door, and plastered her front against the window looking out over a vast black nothingness.

“Oh, God, oh, God. Hurry,” she whined, helping him tug up her skirt and push down her thong.

Marz tore open the front of his jeans and shoved down his boxers, and his cock spilled out in his hand, long, hard, and inked with the heavy black lines of two Chinese characters. “Fuck.” He pulled back and his muscles ached at the retreat. “Do you have a condom?”

Emilie pointed behind them. “In floral bag on top the suitcase.”

He tore open the zipper and grabbed one, and then he was all about tearing the wrapper open and rolling the rubber up his length. He returned to her heat again, his weight pushing her up against the glass. “Are you sure, Emilie?”

“Never been more sure in my life,” she said, peering over her shoulder.

On a groan, Marz penetrated her opening, gliding all the way home on one long, slow thrust. She was so wet it was a fucking dream, and the tight heat of her made him tune out everything else. He didn’t hear the rain battering the window. He didn’t feel the weight of the ticking clock. He didn’t know anything except his cock inside the tight welcome of her body.

“Oh, Derek. Yes, yes, yes.”

His balls already ached with heaviness, and he bit down on the tendon that sloped upward to her neck.

Her cry made him harder, and he reached around to the front of her dress and tugged at the neckline until he freed her breasts to the glass. “I’m not going to be able to go slow, Emilie. I’m strung too tight for wanting you.”

“Do it,” she rasped. “Take me however you want.”

“Oh, baby. Hands on the fucking glass.”

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over a dozen books in contemporary and paranormal romance. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. She lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

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