Desire . . . Trust?
“T-Zone took you in when the CIA wrote you off,” Blaize scathed.
“And y’all think you were the ones doing me the favor? Baby, you’d need an extra hand to count the number of successful missions I’ve carried out for T-Z, and you goddamn know it.” I pushed her back with my huge muscled body pressing against her.
I watched her swallow, but some seriously angry heat came off her.
It only made her sexier to me.
“You got no excuses for that off-op shit you pulled tonight, and you know it. And you do not want to play this game with me tonight.” I began undressing.
Shirt tossed. Boots thrown. Belt whipped out. Pants tugged down.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood in front of her—a foreboding, tall, dark shadow of fully fit and ready-to-fuck man. “Lose the clothes, Blaize, before I slice and dice them with my knife.”
She sucked in a breath.
“You and I both know it’s been building to this.” With my hand curled beneath her chin, I lifted her mouth until it brushed against mine. “If you don’t want to get fucked and fucked hard by me right now you better leave this room and run tail back to DC.”