Page 12 of Elite Metal: Warriors

And then she came. She came. Closing around him with a tormenting spasm that grabbed him by the balls and sent him hurtling off into oblivion with her.

Yeah. Oh yeah.

The first time had been unbelievable, but this?

This was fucking world-shifting.

The rapture took him, spun him around, plunged him to the dark depths of his soul and then hurtled him into a world of light and sensation. And she was with him, by his side, urging him higher and higher with her snarls and growls and wailed demands. And then, as she returned to the world, she soothed him with her murmurs.

Damn.

Limp and drained and utterly ruined, he collapsed beside her. For the second time, he pulled her close and held her. His heart thudded in a manic pattern and his mind spun.

He struggled to find himself again, and couldn’t.

She’d done something to him here, in her shabby room, on this lumpy bed. Something that had shifted his center.

He’d always been a loner. Always been able to walk away from any woman.

It was kind of frightening the way he felt when he thought about walking away from her. Especially considering they’d only just met.

Especially considering, if she was what he suspected, he might be asked to make the threat…go away.

His stomach lurched at the thought.

Even as he knew it was a possibility, he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pull the trigger and extinguish her light. And that was the true horror here, wasn’t it?

He was Sterling, the hard-ass, heartless, determined, don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anybody operative. Never—not ever—had he let anyone or anything come between him and a mission.

That he was even entertaining these thoughts was a betrayal of who and what he was.

He steeled his spine and forced himself to rebuild the thirty-year-old wall this woman in pigtails had dismantled so easily.

She was using him. He was using her. For a night. Nothing more.

Nothing fucking more.

And if he needed to, he would do whatever HQ ordered.

Because that was who he was.

Aside from that, all this agonizing was a moot point until he figured out who and what she was. Until he found proof of her innocence…or guilt.

She snuffled and wriggled back against him and a shiver walked over his skin. He tightened his hold. He knew he couldn’t hold on to the moment forever, but he was loath to let it end.

She didn’t seem so sappily inclined. She pushed away and sat up, gazing down at him. Her eyes were wide and damp with tears, although he did not know why. He reached up and wiped one away with his thumb. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nibbled her lip and nodded.

“I wasn’t too rough?”

“No.” A whisper, threaded with something soft and satisfied. Still, she pushed off the bed. He hated letting her go but she smiled and said, “I need to use the bathroom.”

And fuck. There it was. His chance. Though he’d dreaded it, he knew he had to do what needed to be done. She padded across the room—sending him dreamy glances that cut him to the quick—and then slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Fuck.

Keeping an eye on the door, he rose from the bed and slipped over to the chair where she’d dropped her purse. With quick, practiced moves, he riffled through it. The first thing he found was her wallet. He flipped it open and checked her driver’s license. California. Yeah, he’d expected that.