Crossing The Line (KTS Book 2) Read online

  But I was definitely going to groan and gripe about it in my head.

  Terrible. The whole thing was terrible.

  The other terrible thing?

  I had to get out of this warm and cozy bed to use the facilities.

  I didn’t wanna! And yet, this was another one of those things that I was just going to have shut up and do. Adulting sucked, as much as being sidelined when the rest of my team wasn’t—okay, that wasn’t exactly true. Dan and Ava would be on base recovering for near about the same time as I would be.

  The reality was that the majority of my team was on rest.

  Laila and Ryker were the only two on our team who were actively working to investigate the attack. But I also knew that Dan and Ava had been reviewing the latest files on the Mikhailova clan. They’d told me the last time they’d visited. So, I guess that brought me back to the whole sidelined thing.

  Ugh.

  I needed to find something to keep me busy that wasn’t going to put my recovery at risk.

  But first . . . the bathroom.

  Slipping out from beneath Linc’s arm, I slid the covers back and carefully sat up, wincing both at the pull of my stitches and also at the cold floor on my sock-covered feet.

  Chilly.

  The man liked to keep his room chilly.

  Not that I minded so much, when I was able to cuddle up with that warm body of his. It, however, did certainly make for some very large temperature swings.

  Scorching desert to frozen tundra in the span of a few seconds.

  Good times.

  I crept toward the bathroom, moving as silently as possible so as not to wake Linc. He’d been pulling enough hours in the infirmary to make a normal man cry and then add in the extra time he’d spent with me, and he needed his rest as much as I did.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I jumped, one hand coming to my chest, pressing over my pounding heart. The other instinctively resting against my stitches.

  But no pain came from the movement.

  More progress.

  Though less of making it to the bathroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, turning to see him in bed, his T-shirt wrinkled, his hair mussed. He wiped a hand across his sleepy eyes as I said, “I just need to use the facilities.”

  “Facilities?” His hand dropped, and just like the agent and doctor he was, Linc’s gaze had already been cleared of sleep. Immediately awake in just a few heartbeats. “Pop,” he said, a hint of a growl in his voice. “What are you doing?”

  I huffed, one hand dropping to my hip. “I have to pee, okay?”

  “Okay.” He smiled. “So long as you come back and cuddle up next to me when you’re done.”

  My cheeks felt hot, and I wanted, really wanted to have a quick quip ready on the tip of my tongue to fling over my shoulder at him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with anything. So instead, I just hurried into the bathroom, shut and locked the door, did my business, washed my hands, and—

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Y-yes?” I answered.

  “Extra toothbrush in the second drawer on the right. If you need to shower, I have a waterproof wrapping in the cabinet behind you. Girly hair shit also in that cabinet.”

  “Thanks,” I said, bending to retrieve the wrapping as I chuckled at the “girly hair shit” line.

  For a moment.

  Then I realized what it meant.

  He had offered up another woman’s hair products. Did that mean he’d dated someone else at the base? Did that mean there was someone else?

  My mind revolted.

  He wouldn’t do that. He was a good guy and—

  There was another knock.

  “If you look at the labels, you’ll see they’re your brand, baby.” A beat. “Because I pay attention.”

  My heart settled, and I was able to take a full breath.

  “Be careful in the shower.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured, knowing he couldn’t hear me.

  “You’re welcome, Pop,” he said, as though he had.

  And maybe he had; the man was practically a superhero after all.

  Chapter Ten

  KTS Satellite Base

  Western Georgia

  19:02hrs

  Linc

  She was getting naked, just on the other side of a flimsy wooden door.

  Or, maybe not flimsy per se.

  All the doors at KTS were made of a specialized concrete polymer, similar to that of the garage, designed to withstand bullets and explosions. So, I may not be able to burst through the locked door with my shoulder, to kick it in with a splintering of hinges.

  But I could pretend to know what she was saying.

  What she was thinking.

  Because—everybody in the back join me in saying—I pay attention.

  I didn’t want her thinking that I bought the products for another woman, not when I’d gone to great lengths to understand her preferences, to sneak in the girly shit so my team wouldn’t see them and ferret onto what was happening.

  If they did . . .

  Oh man, the amount of shit I would get—

  A shake of my head.

  I knew it was going to get dished out, sooner or later, but I definitely wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Regardless, I also knew that shit-giving would absolutely be worth it.

  Even if I was having to exercise even more self-control by not attempting to barrel that door down, no matter how fruitless my efforts would turn out to be.

  To distract myself, I spent the next few minutes changing my clothes, ordering some room service—there were occasional perks to being a KTS agent, and one of those was free twenty-four-hour-a-day food delivery. Great for those on shift who couldn’t make it to the mess or for those recovering from the various injuries they sustained on the job.

  Or for those who wanted to avoid the gossiping eyes of the rest of the base.

  At least for a few more minutes.

  There was nothing to be done for my breath—my mouth felt like I had swallowed an entire desert—but I shoved in a couple of pieces of gum to tie me over until I could hit up the bathroom and my toothbrush in that drawer.

  Then I brewed some coffee, knowing the lure of caffeine would coax Olive out of the shower sooner rather than later.

  She lived for the brew, downing more of it than I would have thought possible for such a small woman. And more than enough to make me jittery. Still, the lure worked before long, Olive appearing in the hall with a towel wrapped around her luscious body and her hair a wet sheet down her back.

  I almost missed the rueful expression.

  “What?” I asked.

  A blush. “I couldn’t bear to put my dirty clothes back on.”

  Fucking hell, it would be so easy to nudge that towel to the floor. Instead of that, however, I spun back to my dresser and yanked out a T-shirt and pair of sweats, passing them over to her.

  She disappeared back into the bathroom at the same time there was a knock on the door. Answering it, I started to snag the tray, wanting to get some food into Olive so she could keep up her strength. My fingers grasped the plastic tray, my mind on what I could coax Pop into after I’d done my part to keep up her strength, and my eyes not really taking in who was on the other side of that concrete panel.

  Until I heard, “Eating for an army, Doc?”

  I focused on the voice, saw it was Jack holding the tray, his eyes going wide, a trace of something in them that had my hackles rising, but before I could ferret that feeling out, all I could think was . . . “Shiiit.”

  Because precisely at that moment, Olive came out of the bathroom, my sweats in her hand, my T-shirt hitting her mid-thigh, her hair still sleek and hanging in a damp sheet on her back, announcing, “Your sweats were too big, so I decided to go . . .” Her eyes went to the door. “. . .without,” she finished, and God, how was it possible for a human’s cheeks to go so pink?

  I snatched the
tray, slammed the door in my teammate’s face, then turned to face her. “I’m sure he won’t say anything.”

  I wasn’t sure of that at all.

  Hell, I was pretty damned sure it would be the opposite, but she looked so embarrassed—no. Embarrassed was a mild term for it. In fact, she looked like she was going to run screaming from the room. Which meant, I knew I’d say whatever it took to prevent that.

  Not that my words seemed to have the effect I’d planned—read: she didn’t look consoled or comforted, not in the least—but, surprisingly, I did catch amusement edging into the lines of her face.

  “Of course, he’s going to be blabbing about this to anyone and everyone.” She pressed her palms to her cheeks, as though that would make the swathe of pink go away. “I sure as hell would, if I’d gotten this scoop.” Her voice turned announcer. “This just in! Two doctors who hate each other have been found in the bedroom of one. Clothing may have been removed, and panties were certainly optional.”

  I froze, then moved to set the tray down. “Are they?”

  She frowned. “Are they what?”

  I crossed back over to her, fingers drawn to the silken skin of her bare thighs. “Are your panties optional?” I drew light circles near the hem of that shirt, dipping underneath, loving the way her breath hitched, desperate to trace them higher, even as I knew I shouldn’t.

  If I went higher, I would be even more tempted than I was before, and—

  Fingers circling my wrist.

  I thought to pull away.

  Instead, those fingers were tugging my hand higher.

  And suddenly my fingers were against molten, wet heat.

  “Considering I wasn’t wearing any to begin with—something you should have noticed since you seem to be appraised of my see-through sweats situation—yes,” she said. “Yes, they’re optional.”

  My fingers slid through the heat, and I watched her lips part, her eyes darken. “I thought you were wearing a nude pair,” I said, somehow able to form words. Somehow because my heart was galloping, my pulse pounding in my ears, the rapid thrum-thrum making it hard to hear, hard to focus.

  “I don’t own any nude pairs,” she murmured, her feet shifting, her thighs spreading apart.

  I dipped a finger between the folds of her pussy, watched her eyes glaze over. “No?”

  A shake of her head. “I—ah—only buy colorful pairs,” she said, hips jerking as I slowly circled her clit. “It’s nice to—” She broke off when I lightly tapped the bundle of nerves, pressing down and returning to my circling, her knees almost buckling, her body leaning heavily against mine.

  I kept with the rhythm.

  Pressure. Circling. She liked that. A lot.

  Noted.

  I held her against me and continued stroking. “It’s nice to what?”

  “I—” A shake of her head, her cheek coming to a rest against my chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Stopping my fingers, I said, “You were telling me why you only buy colorful underwear.”

  Heavy-lidded eyes blinked. “I was?”

  This woman was so fucking sexy. “You were.”

  “Oh.” A shrug, more blinking, her pupils so wide there was only a narrow strip of light blue visible. “I like color.” Another shrug. “And we don’t often get to wear it.”

  “And the lace?” I asked, slowly moving again.

  “The lace is for me.” A beat, her lips curving into a hot, sexy smile. “And maybe because I imagined you peeling them off me.”

  My rhythm faltered. My cock went somehow harder, and I stopped playing around. I scooped her up into my arms, carried her to the bed, still coherent enough to set her down gently, rather than tossing her on the mattress and pouncing on top of her. “Lace,” I said, kissing the inside of her ankle. “I’m going to buy you more lace.”

  “Mmm.” She hissed out air when I nipped at one thigh then the other.

  “And then I’m going to spend a fuck-ton of time peeling it off you.”

  “Sounds— Good—ah—”

  I traced my tongue up that soft skin, moved toward the damp heat of her. She smelled sweet and spicy, my soap mixed with the scent that was intrinsically Olive. It was a fucking drug. It made me desperate and needy—to touch, to kiss, to plunge deep.

  I couldn’t do that last right now.

  But the first two, I could do.

  And I was going to enjoy them a hell of a lot.

  I nudged her legs further apart, bent my head, and found that rhythm . . . only this time, it was with my tongue. My hands were otherwise occupied, one pulling her hips against my mouth, keeping the contact so I could find that rhythm. The other sliding up her abdomen, carefully avoiding her bandage as I made my way to her breasts. I’d made a critical error in not peeling off the shirt, the fucking material blocking what would certainly be the best view of my life, but she was bucking against my tongue, sexy little moans pouring out of her mouth, so I wasn’t going to stop what I was doing with mine.

  Even though seeing her naked breasts was right up there with the things I wanted most in the world.

  End child hunger.

  Enact world peace.

  See Olive Jacobs’ breasts.

  And I didn’t mean to see them in a clinical setting, because I couldn’t lie and say I hadn’t seen them before. I’d caught glimpses of many naked bodies. But I always looked away. First, because I was a professional. Second, because I wasn’t a fucking scumbag. I didn’t prey upon people when they were vulnerable.

  So yeah, I wanted a glimpse of those breasts in this venue.

  I also wanted to get my mouth on them, to feel the nipples bead against my tongue. To kiss every inch of silky skin, to rub the stubble of my jaw against the undersides, to trace patterns with my lips. I wanted—

  Well, suffice to say, I wanted to spend some serious quality time with those breasts.

  But, for now, I had my mouth on Olive’s wet pussy, had the tart and sweet mix of her on my tongue, and she was moaning my name.

  I would be staying right where I was for the foreseeable future.

  Which meant I had to satisfy myself with just touching her breasts, with cupping them, with plucking and rolling the nipples in time to the movement of my tongue.

  “Linc—” she whispered.

  “Hmm?” I asked, never lifting my lips.

  “I—I—I need—” Her head flopped back onto the pillows; her thighs tightened around my shoulders. “I need—”

  I shifted, slipped a finger deep, curling it up, finding that sensitive spot deep inside.

  She moaned. “That. Yes, that.” Her legs squeezed around my shoulders again, her hips jerking as she ground herself against my mouth—

  And then she came on my tongue.

  Fuck that was good, watching her eyes slide closed, her lips parting on a loud, slow groan. Her body went ramrod stiff for long moments until she slumped against the bed, chest rising and falling in rapid intervals. I kissed her gently, slowly bringing her down from the peak, before crawling up her body, careful to keep my weight off her and pressing my mouth lightly against hers.

  My cock was ready to snap in half, but I couldn’t be anything but content as I took her into my arms.

  “That was—” She shook her head, laughed slightly. “Long overdue.”

  I smiled down at her. “Trust me, I was thinking the same.”

  She rolled over, rested her folded arms on my chest, a satisfied smile on her face. “Have you planned very much?”

  I stroked a hand over her hair. “What do you think?”

  She laughed. “That it’s a yes.”

  “It’s a yes,” I agreed.

  “Linc?”

  “Hmm?” I was too distracted stroking my hands over her skin to catch the glimmer of wicked in her eyes. Which was probably why it took me a few moments to process exactly where her hand was going.

  But I certainly didn’t miss it cupping me through my jeans.

&nb
sp; I groaned, hips jerking up.

  She reached for the zipper.

  I brushed her hands away. “Not today, Pop,” I said. “I already feel guilty enough for debauching you. Don’t let me add my own selfishness to the mix.”

  Her fingers crept back, stroked along the length of my cock. “Me wanting to touch you isn’t selfish—or at least, not selfish on your part.” Lips curving as she tugged the tag of my zipper. “My part, however? Definitely. I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

  I slid down the mattress, bringing my lips in line with hers, kissing her until I could hardly see straight.

  And then I slipped from the bed.

  She laughed, unperturbed by my fleeing. “You’re more stubborn than I am.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I want it noted for the record that the only reason you’re winning this particular argument is because I’m injured and slow.”

  “Maybe,” I said again and moved to the tray. “Now, come eat.”

  More laughter, but she slowly pushed up from the bed, making her way to the table as I set out plates of lukewarm pasta. “This is more of you taking care of me?” she asked as I put a bowl of salad in front of both plates.

  I paused, glanced over at her. “Take it as you wish.”

  Blue eyes on mine, holding for long moments.

  Then she nodded . . . and reached onto the tray to put a piece of bread on my plate.

  I didn’t miss the small gesture for what it was.

  She was taking care of me right back.

  Yeah, a man could get used to that.

  Chapter Eleven

  KTS Satellite Base

  Western Georgia

  10:36hrs

  Olive

  I winced, hissing out a breath. “Easy,” I warned.

  Linc glanced up from where he was taking out my stitches.

  I’d discovered a drawback to my fancy bandages. They healed a little too fast. Which meant that the stitches probably should have been taken out the night before instead of this morning.