Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(14)

“There. All better.” He straightened, a bit of that same mischievous energy sticking to him as he stripped off the gloves and tossed them in the bin. It was almost like it’d been back then. When they were kids and Rand wanted to make her feel better after hurting herself trying to keep up.

She was staring.

He was giving her a funny look, like something was wrong with her, or maybe she had cooties. But in this moment, he looked like her Rand. It was the slightly goofy smile, the tilt of his head, that spark in his eye that said he was up to no good. She was all too aware of the warmth of his leg between hers, how close they were, the years she’d spent pining for this man, how much she’d missed him.

He lifted a hand and pushed her hair behind her ear.

Endorphins. That would account for the rush of blood past her ears and the driving need eating her up.

His hand tightened on a bit of her hair, tugging at the roots. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d always been aware of him, but now it was a sharp, painful thing.

Sarah leaned forward, closing the space between them. She flattened her right hand over his shoulder and kissed him. Just like she’d imagined doing for years. Ever since she realized that boys weren’t all like her brother. That Rand was someone else—someone she wanted in a sexual way.

The muscles under her hand tensed, coiling tight, but he didn’t move.

What was she doing?

The cold reality of it slapped her in the face. She was high on endorphins, exhausted, and trying to kiss her brother’s former best friend.

It was not a good look for her. Desperate had never been her color.

Besides, when had Rand ever treated her as anything but a friend? There’d been hints, moments when something might have happened, but they’d never crossed the line.

God, she’d fucked up. What the hell should she do now?

Sarah leaned back.

They could chalk it up to her being crazy, right?

Rand’s hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her forward. His lips sealed over hers. Hot. Unyielding. Demanding. He rolled forward, forcing her left leg up over his, hiking her towel up her thigh.

Holy shit. Was that his tongue in her mouth?

It was her turn to freeze, caught in the moment. Her body lost no time. Waves of heat and lust swept her. Goosebumps broke out along her arms. Her nipples tightened and her pussy clenched. She gripped his shirt, hanging on for dear life while his mouth moved against hers.

Rand Duncan was kissing her back.

…

Rand suckled her lip between his teeth, working the bit of flesh, licking her smooth skin. She groaned into his mouth and her hand clenched his shirt. The weight of her thigh over his drew his attention lower. He closed his hand over her knee, then slid it up until terry cloth brushed his fingers.

This was a dream. A false reality where Sarah Collins wanted to fuck him. It wasn’t real.

Sharp teeth nipped his lip, pinching a little too tight. Holy shit.

This was happening.

And it shouldn’t.

She was Matt’s little sister. He’d just sewn up her arm. They were exhausted, in hiding and safe for the time being. He hadn’t spoken to another person he could trust in months.

Her tongue stroked his and her hand slid between the buttons, caressing his chest.

He needed to get closer.

Rand shifted, rolling his chair away from the desk, and pulled her onto his lap, until she straddled him. She was so much smaller than him, breakable, precious.

Matt’s fucking sister. His little sister.

That factoid mattered less and less the more she shifted against him, rubbing her body over his. Her thighs tensed and she rocked her hips into his. His already aching dick throbbed.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, trapping her close to him, giving her the leverage to continue tormenting him through the layer of denim separating them. The towel dropped, draping over his arm.

He slid his hand up her bare leg, over the swell of her hip, the dip of her waist, and flare of her ribs, until he could cup the heavy weight of her breast.

Not so little anymore.

Rand tore his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, licking her collarbone. She smelled of him. He knew it was because of his soap. It made sense. But the primal part of his brain only registered the single meaning: she was his.

His.

It was a lie, but for a moment he wanted to believe it. That in an alternate world, Sarah would be his. That he could thrust into her hot, tight pussy all night long, every night of his life.

They lived in a dangerous world, made more so by their commitment to their country. He ran through a mental checklist. Door—locked. Security system—armed. Motion sensors outside—activated. He’d done as much as he could to ensure they were as safe as could be for the time being.

She leaned back, thrusting her chest up.

Don’t mind if I do…

He was right. Her baggy clothes hid dangerous curves. Breasts big enough to fill his hands. Hips made for thrusting. Her nipples were dusky brown, the tight points beckoning him. He licked one breast and used his fingers on the other. She yanked at his shirt and buttons went flying. Like he cared. It was a shirt. Tasting her was far more important.

Was she as wet as he was hard? He released her waist and cupped her mound. Her skin was damp, slick to the touch.

Christ, she was Matt’s sister.

“Rand.” The way she said his name, infused with need and frustration… There was no doubt she knew exactly who he was. But did she realize what they were doing?