Page 12 of Going Rogue (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP))

Rogue

A swarm of locusts descended on her stomach, and she fought the urge to jump away from Crane. The reaction wouldn’t aid her plan to seduce him.

They’d climbed out of the spider hole less than an hour after they climbed in.

The Bedouin leader had been right. The militants didn’t know about the tunnel.

They’d torn through the camp, upending furniture and scattering objects in their search, but hadn’t ventured near her and Crane’s hiding place.

She could breathe easily again. At least, she had been able to until Crane brushed his thumb against her lip as they crouched on the rugs knee to knee.

They’d just finished remaking the bed in the guest tent after the Bedouins turned down their offer to help put the camp to rights.

She thought maybe they worried about any more interactions in case the militants returned.

The thought of those assholes coming back was one she didn’t want to linger on.

“It shouldn’t scar.” Crane’s eyes narrowed on her cut, and she blinked his face into focus. “Thankfully, it looked worse than it is.” Though his voice remained light, she didn’t miss the anger underlying his words or simmering in the well of his gaze like embers sparking on coal.

At the mention of a scar, she stared at the one across his chin. Stubble covered his face, but it didn’t grow where the scar marked his skin. Her fingers ached to trace the diagonal line.

Wondering why she’d never asked him about it, she murmured, “How’d you get this?” while she gave in to the urge to touch him, lifting her fingertip to outline the pale slash.

“I could lie and tell you it’s from a bar fight . . .” A slow smile creased his cheeks, and her heart responded with a somersault. “But the truth is, my little sister gave it to me.”

Rogue snorted out a laugh, but a hollowness echoed in her chest. She wondered what it would’ve been like to grow up with siblings in a household with two parents who loved you. After her dad had left them, her mom retreated into herself.

Shadows of the past flitted across her features.

She had always thought her mother liked the distance because no matter what she did, Rogue still reminded her mom of the man who’d crushed her heart.

With a sigh, she acknowledged the fact she and her mother were very different people.

Now, they saw each other for obligatory holiday dinners, but that was it.

Pushing the longing away, she teased him, “Lose a fight?”

“Nothing so dignified.” He sat back on his haunches with a head shake. “We were playing tag—in the house. I tripped over one of her dolls and managed to catch my face on the corner of the coffee table.”

“Ouch.” She winced in sympathy. “How old were you? ”

“Eight. Ali was five, but she’d always been devious.” Mock disgust colored his voice as he said, “I’m positive she littered the living room floor with toys on purpose to create an advantage.”

Rogue couldn’t help but smile, hearing him talk about his family. “You love her.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.

“My brother, too, even though Barrett called me stitches for the next year.”

“How many did it take?” Her finger retraced the mark, marveling at the smoothness compared to the scratchy stubble covering the rest of his chin.

She’d felt the scruff when they’d kissed in the Humvee and the scrape of it had sent delicious shivers coursing under her skin.

Would it feel like that against the delicate stretch of her nape?

The sensitive expanse of her inner thighs?

“Six.” He smirked, and she fought the flush, warming her face in response to her thoughts. “Enough to make me look badass.”

Rogue’s smile stretched automatically, imagining Crane as a boy who wanted to seem tough. “Did you impress all the girls? ”

He didn’t answer right away, and her smile faded when she noticed him staring at her mouth.

Is he going to kiss me again?

“Something like that,” he mumbled and stood. As if looking for something to do, he grabbed the now empty basin and the soiled washcloth he’d used to clean her cut earlier. He set them down near the tent’s door.

Disappointment clanged through her like a bell. She missed his closeness immediately and frowned after him. If she wanted to seduce him, she needed a plan of action. Taking stock of herself, she winced at the oversized vest. It had to go.

“Do you think they have a shower?” She posed the question to his back where he stood gazing out the tent.

He glanced over his shoulder at her as if he couldn’t bear to face her full-on.

Did I do something wrong? So far, her seduction was off to a poor start.

“No, but I can get some fresh water.”

A weighted blanket of relief settled some of her nerves. Getting clean would help with her confidence. “Thank you. ”

Crane nodded before taking the basin. He paused at the tent opening, and his eyes were troubled when they met hers.

“Stay here.” With a frown, he set down the bowl, closed the distance between them, and pulled the Glock from her vest to place it in her hand.

With a gruff demand, he added, “Don’t let anyone else come in. ”

Accepting the weapon, she pursed her lips; the expression on his face stopped the scathing remark she’d been ready to make. A war darkened his brow as if he didn’t want to leave her alone but wanted to comply with her request.

Without questioning herself, she reached up and smoothed a hand across the tight lines on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, Crane.”

When he stepped closer, she tilted her head.

The emotion swirling in his caramel-candy eyes held her captive.

Rogue wasn’t short, but his height meant he had to bend down to kiss her.

Her breath caught in anticipation, then guttered out in disappointment when he placed a chaste kiss on her right cheekbone.

“I know.” Despite the simple caress, his eyes seared her with the promise of more before he retrieved the basin and left.

At the look, the swarm of locusts returned to her stomach.

You can do this, Rogan.

With shaky fingers, she worked to undo the vest while staring at the closed tent flap. They were both attracted to each other. If she could get him to kiss her again, surely sex would be a natural culmination.

In disgust, she scowled at the streaks of dirt along her arms. A shower might be out of the question, but she could at least lose her dirty clothes. She undressed but had either adjusted to the lower nighttime temperature or the tent created its own warmth because she didn’t feel cold.

Knowing she’d have to wear them again tomorrow, she attempted to knock some of the dust from her tank top and pants. When they were as good as she could get them, she folded the garments and set them aside.

After a deep breath, she sat on the bed in her black sports bra and underwear while she waited for Crane to return. Alternately clenching and unclenching her hands against the nervous energy making them vibrate.

◆◆◆

Crane

Trying to keep my hands off Rogue might be the death of me.

Crane rinsed the basin before filling a water jug from the trough he’d hidden behind earlier. He thought about pouring a full pitcher over his head to cool off, but the water wasn’t cold enough to do any good.

What he needed was the coldest of cold showers.

Though he didn’t have high confidence, even that would work.

Grumbling, he started to pace. His body had gone to war with his brain.

The former wanted to seduce her—show her the many ways he could bring her pleasure—but when he wasn’t thinking with his dick, he knew he had to give her time.

A chance to adjust to the idea of a relationship with him because he wanted her heart as much as her body.

The only problem? Whenever he came in close proximity to her, he ached to kiss her. Desire had never cut so sharply before and ignoring it might be the most challenging mission he’d ever undertaken.

He stopped wearing a rut in the sand and blew out a breath, which did nothing to loosen the pressure, squeezing his muscles. Hoisting the basin and water, he made his way back to their tent. It was going to be a very long night because his blood couldn’t possibly get any hotter.

Crane halted as soon as he stepped inside.

I was wrong.

“Where are your clothes?” Desperation strained his voice to the point he barely recognized it.

With a deliberate head tilt, Rogue pointed to the neat pile she’d made on the floor. But he’d already taken it in. What he’d meant was, why the hell wasn’t she wearing them?

Sweat that had nothing to do with the temperature beaded on his forehead. He swallowed but the lump in his throat didn’t move. Was it possible she meant to kill him? Because prancing around in this getup would surely do it .

She’d always been hidden under loose-fitting clothing, but now all her assets were on full, mouth-watering display.

His gaze traveled up the toned length of her delectable legs, passed over the swell of her shapely hips to the narrow line of her waist, and stalled on the curves of her heavy breasts, barely contained in the tight spandex material.

Look away, asshole.

But he couldn’t.

“What?” Her graceful fingers traced the edges of her outfit, and his mouth salivated. “This is more than a swimsuit covers.”

Seriously? What kind of swimsuit does she wear? He instantly pictured her in a string bikini and whimpered.

She was trying to kill him.

“Is that for me?” Rogue advanced, and he instinctively backed up a step, crashing into the tent flap, which had closed behind him.

He bobbled the basin as he caught himself, and the liquid in the jug sloshed.

The metal bowl landed on the carpets with a thud.

She grabbed the pitcher before he managed to lose its contents. “What’s with you? ”

The look she threw at him spoke of puzzlement, but he had to wonder . . . how could she not know what she did to him? A frustrated growl left his chest, and he grabbed her before he had a chance to think about it. One hand cupped her perfect ass while the other pulled her lips to his.

He felt her initial surprise wane into acceptance.

She opened for him with a little moan that triggered a landmine in his blood.

The heat of the blast clouded everything out, except the desire to feel each soft bit of her pressed to every hard bit of him.

His hands roamed her curves, but the damn jug got in the way.

She still held it, wedged between their chests.

While he practically mauled her like some kind of rabid bear.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Crane pushed her away and scrubbed both hands over his face, afraid to meet her gaze.

“Why? I want . . .” When she trailed off, he looked at her. Her cheeks had flushed with embarrassed heat.

“Tell me what you want, Rogue,” he rasped with the last shred of his control. “ Because what I want is to make you come over and over again .”

Her lips parted, releasing a shocked breath at the same time her hands slackened their hold on the jug of water. He snagged it from her before she dropped it and set it on the ground next to where the basin had fallen.

“Um,” she mumbled.

Watching her teeth assault her lower lip while desire swirled in the dark rum of her eyes was sweet agony. The color in her cheeks flared again, and an invisible force pulled him closer until he breathed in the same air as her.

Even battle-worn, her sweetly spicy scent enticed him like no fancy perfume ever had. Savoring it, he leaned in further. Her skin felt as smooth as silk under the glide of his nose as he tested the heat blooming along her cheeks. “Whatever you want, Rogue. It’s yours.” I’m yours.

Though he didn’t say the words aloud, their truth seared itself into the marrow of his bones—more permanent than any tattoo, which would only fade with time .

“I don’t know how to do this.” She let out a huff of disgust. “But I want to.” Her hands gripped his shirt in tight fists. “I want you.”

The part of him, which hadn’t wanted to pressure her, evaporated into steam when his blood fired at her request. They would have the physical and so much more. His heart wouldn’t settle for less.

Cupping her face, he kissed the line between her brows. “Then let me show you.”