No Escape From War (Trouble for Hire #1) - Cynthia Eden Page 0,53

needed to get some business cleared up between them. “I would definitely jump between you and a bullet.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing he’s not firing bullets.”

No, this bastard preferred a far more personal kill method. He wanted to touch his victims as he ended their lives. War had done some research on this particular brand of bastard while she’d been filming that day. What he’d learned about killers who choked their victims…

Strangulation murders often had a sexual component for the killers. They got off on choking their victims, stealing their breath, watching them struggle.

“Hey.” Her hand rose and pressed to his cheek. “Where did you just go?”

His head turned. His lips feathered over her palm. “I wish I’d killed him. When I found him with you in that motel room, I wish that I had killed the bastard then.”

“War…”

Another kiss. “You can trust me to keep you safe. I won’t fail you again, Rose.”

“I-I said I trusted you.” Her voice had gone husky. Her eyes were so deep. He couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away.

“You trust me…with your life.”

A nod.

“What about with your heart, baby? What do I have to do in order to get you to trust me with that again?”

She sucked in a startled breath.

“Because I will do it. Whatever it is. Know that whatever happens in the future, I am on your side. I believe you. I believe in you.” He’d never trusted a lover that completely before. Never cared enough to risk so much. But this was Rose. She was different. He would be different with her. “I give you my word. I will never doubt you. I will never hesitate where you are concerned.”

“Why does…why does how I feel matter so much?”

“That’s an easy one.” He deliberately used her words. “Because you matter.” If she didn’t realize that, he’d screwed up again. “You are my priority. I will prove myself to you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I fucking do.”

Now she was the one to swallow. “War…”

He waited. He was so close to her. He could feel the warmth of her body reaching out to him. Could smell her delicious scent. As he watched, her little pink tongue slid over the edge of her lower lip.

“Kiss me?” Rose asked. Voice husky. Sexy. Inviting.

His mouth pressed to hers. Open-mouthed. Hot. Hungry. The first kiss was tasting. Needing. Then he moved even closer. Kissed her harder. Deeper. Thrust his tongue past her lips and tasted her. She moaned, and he greedily drank in the sound. Her taste was incredible, and he just wanted more and more and more. He wanted everything he could get from her. He would always want everything. With Rose, there were no limits.

“Fuck me,” she whispered against his mouth.

Kiss me. Fuck me.

Oh, hell, yes, he would gladly oblige.

He pulled back, but just enough so that he could lift up her shirt and toss it on the bar top. Her breasts pressed against the dark blue cups of her bra, and he bent to brush his lips against her skin.

“War!”

He reached behind her. Undid the clasp of the bra, and soon her breasts were spilling into his hands. He loved her nipples. Loved how tight they’d get and the way she would shiver when he stroked them. And he was stroking…stroking and licking and driving her wild.

He loved her this way. Hungry. Hot. Wanting him so badly that—

“No way. Not…happening.”

War stilled. His heart thundered.

“You’re not doing this to me this time.” Her breath heaved in and out as her hands pushed against him. “You’re not going to make me go insane while you stay in control. This time, that control of yours is breaking.”

“Uh, Rose…”

She jumped from the barstool. Stood before him in her pants and her heels with those perfect breasts thrusting ever-so-perkily toward him and making him nearly drool.

Her hand went to the front of his jeans. Her fingers stroked over the rock-hard length of him through the denim, and his eager dick jerked and twitched more for her.

“I want to see what it’s like when you go over the edge.” She undid the button. Eased down the zipper. Shoved his jeans out of her way. His cock sprang into her hands, and she stroked him—softly at first. Teasingly. Gently. Then her grip became firmer. Her strokes a little more demanding. And, of course, his dick loved every single thing she was doing to him. His legs had locked down. His whole body had gone tight with tension. He’d clamped