Page 10 of Hazard

Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes, the heavy, fluttery sensation in her chest compressing her lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The thought of him overwhelmed her senses and clogged her mind, a sudden thought of his hot and hungry mouth against hers, the feel of him moving hard and fast inside of her with deep, penetrating thrusts. Her whole body responding to the sensual thoughts, Leigh turned and weakly rested her forehead against the tile, the water cascading down her back. She fantasized about him walking in right now, backing her against the tile with that big body roped with muscle, and thrusting inside her to ease the heavy thickness that pulsated in her nipples and her sex, heated her blood, and shivered over her bare skin.

Unable to take it anymore, she washed quickly, moaning as the washcloth rubbed over the hard nubs of her breasts, and between her legs, then got out, trying to shut down everything.

An emptiness filtered through her, and she avoided her gaze in the mirror, upsetting her more than she wanted as she dried her hair, leaving it long and loose, and applied fresh makeup with a light touch. After she was dressed and feeling much warmer, she pulled open the door to the hall where Hazard waited.

He turned at the sound of the door, and she realized he was armed, a brown holster tucked into the waistband of his jeans, the black waffle grip of a pistol showing, and sending alarm through her.

Of course he’d been armed in San Diego. That wasn’t new, but it had been concealed in a shoulder holster. There was something almost gunslinger about him now, something wild, wild west.

She shivered and he took a sharp breath when he saw her, his eyes roaming over her slowly. “You clean up nice, counselor.” His voice was now a rough husk as he turned toward her, his right-hand fisting, his silvery blue eyes darkening into a hot, smoldering look that spoke volumes.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely unable to form words, which both shocked her and pissed her off. How was this happening to her? She wasn’t a sexual person, but Hazard did something to her that she couldn’t seem to stop.

Her stomach, which had been in an uproar anyway, shot directly to her boots, the rush leaving an unnerving hollow in her belly. Determined to brazen it out, she forced herself to meet his gaze again, aware that her pulse was going a mile a minute. She swayed…or was she swooning? No. Leigh Waterford, hard-as-nails attorney for the United States didn’t do that.

Ever.

She was fatigued, famished, and fucked up. That had to be it.

He was suddenly there, supporting her as she wavered, working at trying to get her balance back, her breath coming in short, anxious pants.

Her arms came up as she clutched at his hard biceps, then the warm skin of his forearms. As soon as she touched him, his muscles flexed beneath her palms, and his breathing hitched. She felt the heat of him through his shirt, along with the way his heartbeat accelerated.

He pressed his body against hers, the sexual tension rising between them. She closed her eyes and leaned more fully into his hard, lean body, the memories of her arousal in the shower washing over her.

She grasped his shoulders before her legs gave out on her and dropped her head closer to his, the electric scape of his stubble on her soft skin an erotic sensation. She shivered again with a raw ache, his fingers tangling through her hair at the back of her neck, gently tugging her head back so their gazes met once more, and their lips were inches apart. There was something strangely exciting about being at this man’s mercy. She wanted him with a fierce, powerful kind of need she’d never experienced before. His face gave little away, but his eyes, for just a moment, simmered with lust.

Then he abruptly pushed her head down. “Breathe slowly,” he whispered like he was choking. “Evenly. Take your time. You need food and sleep, lady.”

She winced, a rush of embarrassment climbing up her face. She didn’t know how this had happened. She didn’t normally react to men that way. But what made it worse was that she had the unnerving feeling that he’d known exactly what had been going through her mind.

She took his advice, and followed through, calming herself until she wasn’t calm anymore. She experienced another flush of embarrassment, pushed his hands away, and backed up. “Stop touching me. I’m fine now,” she snapped, raking her hair back from her face. She was acting this way because she was exhausted. Or maybe because he’d made her feel safe. Or maybe, some wayward little voice said sarcastically that she was lying to herself.

She had to get a grip. She needed to do her job, and she couldn’t afford to fail or get sidetracked. Justice was hanging in the balance. The whole Southern District of San Diego and her boss were depending on her. She’d been sworn in and had repeated an oath. Sobered by that thought she said, “Let’s go eat.”

“Leigh,” he said, and she shook her head.

“You can guard me, Hazard. But don’t handle me.” The thought almost made her laugh, because it was a word she would never associate with her personality. Being meek and mild wasn’t part of her nature. If she wanted something, she was upfront about it. But this was skirting the danger zone, this attraction to him. Backing off seemed like prudent behavior.

4

Hazard watched every movement Leigh made. His concern for her was still pretty much up in the red zone. She was pale and still a bit shaky. He wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and sit her down, but she needed food, hydration, then she could get some rest. He hoped. He was her bodyguard, but as she cautioned, she didn’t want to be handled. Well, to hell with that. If he saw something, perceived it as a threat or a possible problem, he was going to speak up.

That had been encouraged during his tenure in the Navy, and he was appreciated for his thoughts and actions. He loved that, especially learning something new every day. His decision to serve was a solid, well-thought-out path for his career and life. He wanted to help people and make change in the world he lived in, especially when it came to strife and injustice. He was energized by being a SEAL because it was obvious that he was needed. And to be part of the Tier 1 group was the best he could be, and he thought with a grin, got him the best equipment and toys.

His mom hadn’t always appreciated that, especially when he’d been too young in her mind to have those kinds of great suggestions. But that didn’t stop him from caring about and caring for his hard-working mother. Even at a young age, without a father to ground them and take some of the burden off his mother, his main thoughts were to help her get through each day, especially after his father died when he was six. He found that focusing on facts and information rather than the disjointed and often confusing emotions helped him feel more grounded.

He stared at her profile and felt a little more poleaxed than before. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. He truly had, or maybe he allowed her strong arm, take-charge, difficult personality to run roughshod over his senses because it was easier than getting involved with his gee-fucking-gorgeous charge. That was before all those blonde curls. What she had done to her hair changed so much about her. Those golden locks fit so much better than the mud-brown hair. He had to wonder what prompted the change.

Okay, o-fucking-kay. He admitted it to himself. During his time with her in San Diego he’d wanted more, at the very least, he wanted to get close to her. But common sense had won out, and the fact that she was West Coast, and he was East Coast and that would be a freaking nightmare to navigate with his job, one he had no intentions of giving up anytime soon, made it impossible. He was Navy all the way, a SEAL for life. His job fulfilled him mentally, physically, and where his heart would always be, even long after serving.

He wanted to look at this from a cool, logical point of view, but she messed with his equilibrium, like upstairs when he thought she was going to faint. The way she looked at him as if she wanted to take bites out of him, sent heat right to his dick. Hell, it was still semi-hard, a goddamned inconvenient organ, his dick with a mind of its own.

Well, it knew what it wanted. That was for sure. No ifs, ands, or buts. Dicks were straightforward. They wanted sex. Period. End of story. Very simple needs with very complicated results. Yeah, something he was going to curb. She was here for a job, and he was here for a job. As far as he could tell, his dick didn’t have a role in any of their goals. Getting his dick anywhere near her was off-limits.

Even with the paleness, her skin was smooth like satin, the curve of her nose so exquisitely elegant. He’d stared into eyes so blue he could get lost in them, and he had, he thought sheepishly. Not the same shade as his own, but a vibrant cornflower blue with a ring of dark blue around the iris and streaked with hints of violet. Breathtaking if he stared at her too long.

She turned to look at him through the fog of her fatigue. She had a full understanding of what his gaze meant. It was written all over her face. And he was sure as hell aware of her—it was getting slowly, and sensually carved into his goddamn heart.

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