Dangerously Hot (A Hostile Operations Team Novel)(#4) by Lynn Raye Harris

to marry you and put you on a pedestal. I never wanted that. I wanted you naked and beneath me, hot and sweaty and incoherent with pleasure. I wanted it pretty damn badly, but I also know myself. Once I’d had that from you, I’d have moved on to the next woman. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
    She stared at him for a long moment. Then her expression clouded.
    “Fuck you, Kevin MacDonald,” she said, her voice tight and angry. She got onto her knees on the bed, her finger jabbing at him. “Fuck you for thinking you’re so damned amazing that I’d have been ruined forever just because you took me to your bed. Did you ever stop to think that maybe all I wanted was sex too? That I was no more interested in happy ever after with you than you were with me? Fuck you, you arrogant prick.”
    There was the fuck you, but not the way he’d expected. It was shocking to hear her say such a thing—and hell if it wasn’t arousing too. As if he needed more arousing.
    His gaze dropped from her fiery eyes to her nipples, beaded tight and pressing against her T-shirt. He wanted to lick them and his cock jumped in response.
    Goddammit.  
    There was a reason he couldn’t do this . “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants anymore. You’re Marco’s widow,” he said, his voice suddenly raw. “And as much as I want you now, that’s a line I can’t cross.”
    Her breath hitched. And then she glared at him. “There you go again, assuming things about me. I didn’t say I wanted you now, did I? That ship sailed a long time ago.”
    He swallowed. It’s what he deserved to hear… and he almost believed her. But her eyes gleamed feverishly as her gaze raked over him. She couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on his cock, and a surge of something very like triumph shot through him. Her nipples were erect against her thin shirt and her pulse thrummed in her throat. She was lying, and that knowledge both pleased and angered him.
    He wasn’t letting her get away with it, though he should. He should walk away and let sleeping dogs lie. But he just wasn’t capable of it. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface.
    “You didn’t have to say it. It’s obvious.”
    Her eyes flashed, but instead of hiding from him, she knelt there proudly, hands on hips, breasts jutting forward, their curves so round and tempting. “Nipples? That’s your proof? I haven’t been warm since I landed in this icebox and you think my nipples are hard for any other reason?”
    Stop now, dude. Just stop. “Yeah, I do.”
    She snorted. “We all want you, don’t we, Southern boy? You turn up the drawl and we fling our panties at you.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Take your drawl down to the bar and get laid so your brain will be clear again. I’m going back to sleep.”
    He should do exactly as she told him. He should walk out of this house, go down to the nearest bar, and pick up a woman. Or he should scroll through the contacts on his phone and call one of his last hookups.  
    But he couldn’t leave her here alone. And he damn sure couldn’t bring another woman back to his own house and fuck her next door while Lucky lay here in her little T-shirt and flimsy panties.
    No, she was the one he wanted. And he was going to go fucking crazy living with her for the next few weeks and not being able to touch her.
    “You know what I think?” he said, his voice like a whip in the semidarkness of the room. She made him crazy, and he’d be damned if he was going crazy alone. “I think you’re every bit as horny as I am. I think you want me.”
    What the fuck was he saying? Why was he pushing her? This was not what he’d promised Marco.
    He could hear her breathing sharply, see her chest rising and falling in the soft glow of the night light, and he knew he’d hit a nerve. Tell me to fuck off, Lucky. Tell me I’m wrong.
    “Maybe I am horny,” she said hoarsely, and he took an involuntary step toward her. “But if you touch me now,