“Yeah, I did my part. Checked in. Said I was still good to go for whatever mission comes next.”
Sawyer had done the same. It wasn’t often that he was required to have an up-close interview with Wright, but when he was called up, Sawyer always handled the meetings with brutal honesty. Yeah, we needed at least five more men. We still got the job done. But we aren’t fucking miracle workers. We need more power.
Wright had promised him more power. Usually, the guy delivered on his promises. Wyman Wright. Probably a bullshit name. Wright looked like a pencil pusher, but he wasn’t. Though he wasn’t listed on the books anywhere, Wright was the backbone of D.C., the puppet master who’d seen plenty of FBI and CIA directors come and go, and he was always ready for action, no matter who might be sitting in the Oval Office.
“Since I’ve done my face time,” Flynn added with a slow incline of his head. “I’m ducking out of here. I’m sure I can find just the right something special to help me relax.” His gaze was directed across the room. On a pretty blonde woman in a long, red dress.
Sawyer lifted his glass—still full of champagne because he didn’t drink the stuff—in a small salute. “Have fun with that.”
“I intend to.” Flynn slapped him on the shoulder. Flynn was just an inch shorter than Sawyer’s own six-foot-three frame, and they were both built along the same rough, muscled lines. While Sawyer had jet-black hair, Flynn’s was brown. They’d both spent their adult lives working for Uncle Sam, in one form or another. Hunting was second nature to them. Killing… that was far too easy.
Flynn cleared his throat. “Maybe you should look for some fun, too.”
Sawyer found his gaze drifting around the ballroom. “Maybe I will.”
The door to Wright’s office—well, his office for the night, anyway—opened. And there she was. The star of Sawyer’s frequent fantasies. Dr. Elizabeth Parker. Her long, dark hair was loose tonight. Normally, she kept it secured at the nape of her neck. Every single time she gave him an exam, Sawyer had to fight the urge to pull down her hair. To touch the soft silk.
Her hair was down, and her habitual lab coat was long gone. Instead, Elizabeth wore a black dress that fit her like a glove, revealing far too much about the curves his hands itched to touch.
“Uh, right…not happening,” Flynn announced with a laugh. “You know Dr. Parker wouldn’t look twice at you.”
Sawyer’s gaze snapped back to his soon-to-be ex friend. “What the fuck? Why would you say that?” Now he was legitimately insulted. Shit.
Flynn held up his hands. “Sorry, bro, but I don’t think she likes fighters. She’s more into the…intellectual type, I’d say. I mean, not that you aren’t but…” He shook his head. “She’s delicate, you know? Dude, you’d break her in two if you got her in the sack.”
The hell he would. “Get your ass out of here. Your blonde is getting away.” He didn’t wait to see how Flynn responded. Sawyer strode through the crowd, his focus on the prize he wanted.
At that moment, Elizabeth looked up. Her gaze landed on him—such a dark, deep gaze. Chocolate. He fucking loved chocolate. Her lips were painted red, and they were sexy as hell. Those lips trembled for a moment when she saw him, but then Elizabeth spun on her heel and headed out onto the balcony.
“Told you man…” Flynn’s annoying voice called from right behind him. “Not interested.”
The asshole had followed him. “Fuck off.” Sawyer rolled back his shoulders. “I’m not going to screw the doc. I know the rules.” And rule number one in their program was no fraternizing. That had been made clear to him and his team as soon as they had agreed to join Wright’s covert group of operatives.
Sawyer shoved his champagne glass at a nearby waiter. He yanked at the neck of his dress shirt and jerked at his tie. He hated having to put on fancy clothes, and he hated having to act civilized at these stupid events. Sawyer was far more comfortable in the field. Working a mission. Holding a gun in his hand and stalking his prey. He hated being in this freaking circus of a ballroom.
He slipped onto the balcony. The doc was the only other person out there. Her hands were curled over the wrought-iron railing, and the wind lightly teased her thick, dark hair. He stilled for a moment, just staring at her. Did the woman have any idea just how beautiful he thought she was? Did she know exactly how many times she’d starred in his dreams? He’d fucked her in them, endlessly.
She glanced back at him. The moonlight fell on her face. To him, she was utter perfection. Oval face, sweet cheekbones and that stubborn little chin. Her lips were sin, and he’d spent far too much time thinking about her mouth. When he’d been in the exam room with her earlier that day, she’d been standing between his thighs, and he’d wanted to lean forward and take her mouth with his.
“You look good.” Her voice drifted to him. “Your injuries don’t seem to be slowing you down any.”
He moved closer to her. The woman drew him in. Moth to a flame. “Nope. Not slowing me even a little bit.”
Her lips curved in a faint smile. “Do you think you’re Superman?”
“Only some days.” Only when I’m close to you.
Her smile faded. “No one is immortal.” She bit her lower lip, and her gaze seemed to look right through him. “I don’t…I’m starting to think no one should be.”
An odd thing to say.
“Guess it depends on who you are living forever with.” He took up a position right next to her on the balcony. His shoulder brushed against hers. When she didn’t speak again, he tried to figure out what the hell to say to her. And, of course, Flynn’s asshole words rang in his ears. She’s more into the…intellectual type, I’d say. He should have punched his jerk of a friend. “Big crowd here tonight. Aren’t you supposed to be inside? Charming everyone so that the funding keeps going to our program?” The people back in that ballroom were the power players in D.C. Wright liked to take donations from private parties who shared his interests. It was easier to keep his activities out of the government—and media’s—spotlight that way.
“I’m not good at charm.” Her voice was soft and husky. “That’s not why I’m on Wright’s staff.”
“You do a good job of charming me.” He moved even closer to her.
Immediately, she slid away. “Sawyer—”
A man’s sharp laughter cut through the night. Sawyer turned his head and saw that a fellow in a tux had wandered onto the balcony. The guy was laughing it up with some redhead. Dammit.
“Meet me downstairs,” Sawyer rasped to Elizabeth. “Five minutes. We need to talk. Privately.”
Then, taking his time, Sawyer strolled off that balcony. He didn’t look back. Maybe Elizabeth would come to meet him. Maybe she wouldn’t. But what he had to say to the doc—it couldn’t be said with someone else’s eyes on them.
He needed her alone.
And that’s how I’ll get her.
Chapter Two
She hated wearing heels. She hated the confines of her too tight dress. She hated having to make small talk and act interested in the conversations that arrogant assholes were having. Elizabeth just hated the whole scene. Landon had said the event was a necessary evil. Wright doesn’t function alone. He needs backers. Not that those backers knew the truth. Wright was keeping the true nature of his program—the truth about Lazarus—secret.
Landon liked the wining and the dining and the charming, and since he enjoyed it so much, she figured he could handle the rest of the night all by himself. Her heels clicked on the stairs as she hurried down to the bottom level of the historic D.C. building. The staircase was spiral, huge, and the air chilled her skin as she descended. At first glance, no one appeared to be on the lower level of the old building. Why would anyone be? The party was upstairs.
But…
Sawyer was down there. Somewhere, waiting in the shadows. Waiting for me.
The event was being held at an art museum on the edge of D.C. The first floor was full of artwork—high-end pieces of abstract art.
Each piece was connected to a security system and when she finally reached the first floor, Elizabeth caught sight of a few security guards patrolling the area. Not deserted, after all.
The museum was their cover for the night. If reporters got curious, the story would just circulate that the rich and powerful had been at that location for an art gala—a fundraising ball. And some money would be donated to the museum.
More money would go to Wright’s pet project. A lot more.
In D.C., what you saw was never the real story.
The first-floor galleries were open, though, as part of the cover, so people could walk in and admire the work. No one was doing that, though, not while the real action was upstairs. She gave a weak smile to one of the guards and headed into the gallery on her right. She really wasn’t sure exactly where on that first floor Sawyer was. The guy should have been more specific with his meeting plan.
Instead, he’d been mysterious. Demanding. And sexy in his tux.
She walked past two long, red curtains—
A hand flew out and wrapped around her wrist. “It’s been ten minutes, doc. Ten, not five.”
Her lips parted, but in the next moment, he’d yanked her through the curtains. Through the curtains and into what she saw was actually a small office. Before she could make a sound, he’d shut the door of that office, locked it, and then Sawyer had pinned her between his rock-hard body and the wooden door.
“You kept me waiting.” His words were a growl.
“I—”
“Gonna have to make you pay for that.” And his right hand moved down to grab the material of her dress. He pushed it up, and his fingers stroked her thigh. “Feels like fucking silk…”
Her mouth had gone absolutely dry, and her heart was about to burst right out of her chest. She knew he wasn’t talking about the material of her dress. He was talking about her.
“Are you wearing panties?”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply. Instead, he shoved the fabric of her dress up even higher, and then Sawyer’s fingers were pushing between her legs and discovering that no, she wasn’t wearing panties.
Because I knew I’d be seeing him. Knew, hoped, same thing.
“Fuck, baby, what you do to me…” His fingers slid over her sex. Elizabeth’s head tipped back against the door, and she had to press her lips together to stop herself from moaning.
“You’re already wet.” One finger caressed her clit and her whole body jerked. His mouth pressed to her throat, kissing, licking, and then he gave a little nip. “Did you miss me as fucking much as I missed you?”
More. Her eyes opened, and all pretense dropped. “I need you, Sawyer. Now.” It had been torture, absolute torture, to exam him earlier that day and not give in to her need. To pretend that nothing was happening between them. To ignore the wild, desperate desire that she felt for him. A need that had swept her up into a dark obsession of lust and sensual craving months ago. The attraction had always been there, burning just beneath the surface for them both, but then one night…
She’d heard a knock at her apartment door. When she’d opened the door, Sawyer had been standing there. His stormy blue eyes had been filled with a stark hunger.
Two minutes later, they’d been in bed together. They’d wrecked her bed.
Her hand angled between them. She stroked his cock through the fabric of his pants. He was big and long and heavy, and she didn’t want to wait. Her body was in a fever pitch, and she needed him inside of her. “Sawyer.”
He pulled back. Dammit, he pulled back. But then she heard the hiss of his zipper. A wide smile crossed her face. Yes. He came back to her in a rush, his strong hands curled around her waist, and he lifted her up. Her back shoved into the wood of the door even as her legs wrapped around his hips. The head of his cock pressed against the entrance to her body. And—
He sank deep. Her breath choked out, and then he kissed her. His tongue thrust into her mouth even as his cock drove into her body, again and again. He used his iron-hard hold on her hips to lift her up and down, moving her quickly over the length of his cock. And every sensual movement had her clit sliding against him. Her eyes squeezed shut even as her nails bit into the fabric of his tux. Her climax was coming. Already. That was how desperate she was for him. Her body was so primed. The climax was building and charging her entire body.
He tore his mouth from hers. “No sound, baby. Remember…”
She wanted to scream. Her sex clenched around him and pleasure burst through her. She bit her lower lip, hard, holding back the cry of release even as she felt him erupt inside of her. His cock jerked, his body shuddered, and Sawyer held her so tightly Elizabeth wondered if she’d bruise.
And she didn’t even care.
Gradually, her heartbeat went from a thunder to a slow thud. He was still inside of her, and Sawyer’s hands gripped her waist. She licked her lips, cleared her throat, and managed to whisper, “Did I hurt you?”
His head lifted. Oh, jeez, but he was handsome. Not in some clean-cut, carefully styled way. But in a dangerous, predatory way. Bad boy to the core. Hard jaw, glittering eyes, razor-sharp cheekbones.
“Hurt me?” Sawyer repeated. “Not even close, baby.”
“Your wounds…”
“When I’m in you, doc, the only thing I feel is pleasure.”
Her sex squeezed him. Totally reflex. And it totally felt good. Amazing. But… “W-we should go. Someone could come by and find us.” Having sex at the museum had probably been a colossal mistake. She’d just—needed him. Missed him.
I lost my control.
Sawyer was the only man who’d ever made her lose control.
“Right. Time to go back to being your dirty little secret.” He withdrew from her. His words had held a definite edge. Danger.
Her heart stuttered as her feet slid down and touched the floor. She’d lost her shoes. Shit. Where were they? “You know it’s not like that.” She could still feel him, on the inside.
And outside. All over her skin. His scent seemed to cover her.
Maybe she liked it. It was primitive, basic. Like carrying a mark for a mate. She wanted her scent on him, too, and she liked having his scent on her.
He zipped up and straightened his clothes. Sawyer’s dark hair wasn’t even out of place. Meanwhile, she felt like a wreck.
Elizabeth caught sight of her shoe—one shoe. A good five feet away. She hurried toward it.
But Sawyer caught her arm before she could pass him. “I’m sorry.” His words were gruff. “Didn’t mean to sound like a dick.”
Her gaze cut back to him.
“I want the whole world to know about us. You’re mine, Elizabeth. You’re in my fucking blood.”
And just like that—her heart was racing too fast again. “If our relationship was discovered, Wright would separate us.” She knew they’d broken the rules by getting involved. No fraternizing—no sexual relationship—was allowed in their division. No mixing under Wright’s command. She was the doctor, and Sawyer was the Pack leader. Nothing more. That was the way things were supposed to be, but… “I may be going strictly to research soon.” The words tumbled from her. Wright had told her that news when she’d gone in for her face-to-face meeting with him. He’d been so impressed by the work she’d done with Lazarus. He’d been practically crowing, but meanwhile, the knot in her stomach had just gotten worse. “Or maybe, um, I’ve actually been thinking about getting out of Wright’s group altogether.” Perhaps doing a whole new kind of work. “If that happens, there won’t be a need for secrets any longer.”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Baby, I’ve been thinking the same thing. Maybe it’s time for a change. Time to let go of the battles and focus on something else.”
His stare was on her. What was he saying? What did he—
“You, baby. I want you. If I can’t have you and the team, then you’re my choice. Always. Know that.”
Warmth spread through her. A giddy warmth that made her want to
smile and laugh. She’d never felt this way about anyone. A guy like Sawyer—so intense and dangerous—he wasn’t her normal type. Not at all. But something had clicked between them.
The attraction had been too strong. The need too fierce. And the connection? She could swear it went soul deep.
“Now get those sexy shoes back on, doc, because I want to get you home. I want you in a bed.” He kissed her. “The first climax took the edge off, but I’m gonna need a whole lot more from you.”
She’d need a whole lot more, too.
Elizabeth pulled away. She grabbed one shoe. Sawyer found the other. Her knees only wobbled a bit as she hurried out of the room. Her shoes rapped over the gleaming floor as she headed back to the main lobby and the spiral staircase. Sawyer didn’t follow, not right away. Another tactic they used. They never left places together, they tried not to stay together too long, and—
“Elizabeth.”
And Landon was waiting for her near the bottom of the stairs. Sweet Jesus. She put a hand to her chest, startled. Why did the guy just keep popping up in her path?
Landon looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Sawyer?”
“I-I don’t know.” I can feel him on my skin.
Landon kept peering behind her. “I saw you two on the balcony together.”
Wait, he’d seen them? Her cheeks flushed, but…Landon hadn’t seen anything earth-shattering. Just two people talking. We did nothing wrong. At least, not on the balcony, they hadn’t.
“I thought you’d come down here together.”
“No.” Her voice was flat. “We didn’t.” Was her hair a wreck? Was her dress twisted? “I’m tired, Landon. I’m going home.” She inclined her head toward him. “Goodnight.” Elizabeth walked around him and headed toward the glass doors that would take her outside and to the safety of her car.
But he followed. He followed her out of the building, away from the guards, and to the parking lot. He was silent behind her as the valet brought her car around, and every moment that passed made Elizabeth nervous. Her breath came a little too fast. Tension stretched inside of her, until she just snapped. Elizabeth spun around. “What is it?” His silent follow routine had unnerved her.