Free Her Perfect Stranger by Jill Shalvis Page A

up speed. And she actually ached. Ached. When she forced her eyes open, she expected triumph to flare in his own deep, dark-brown gaze, but all she saw was his own response, which mirrored hers. After that, it got harder and harder to ignore him. As a result, maybe she worked them all a little harder than she might have, but she told herself she was a perfectionist and simply expected the best out of them. That they were delivering that best went a long way toward easing the knowledge that the rest ofthe team didn't especially like her. But they respected her, and had the same work ethic she did, so that would have to be good enough. Besides, she was used to not being liked. Not many understood her drive, her need to succeed. At times, she didn't understand it herself. Her parents supported her; her friends supported her. All her life she'd been loved and cherished. It wasn't a lack in any of those things that drove her but a simple, overriding hunger for success. And she would have it. MIKE WAITED IN THE DARK, in the halway, silent and tense and listening for Corrine's standard midnight run to the bathroom. It was stupid, even pathetic, especially when he had no idea what he wanted to say or do. Actualy, that was one big, fat lie. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to her, and it involved no clothes, a bed and lots of moaning. What was this crazy need he had for her? It made no sense. Especially when she'd made it clear she wanted to forget she'd ever known him. He should want to forget her, too, given what a tough, no-nonsense commander she was. But he couldn't forget. And so he waited. She didn't disappoint. Just past midnight, she came out of her room, wearing her men's boxers and tank top. Shrinking back into the shadows, he watched her as she walked with her frank, here-I-come gait until she disappeared into the bathroom. When she came back out, yawning broadly, he grabbed her. She nearly screamed, but quickly controlled herself. And while he admired her control on the job, he didn't want her in control now, he wanted her hot and bothered and unsettled, which happened to be the only time he got to see the woman he suspected was the real Corrine Atkinson. She fought him, but he used his superior strength to haul her closer until they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and all the delicious spots in the middle were meshed together. Ah, just what the doctor ordered. "What are you doing?" she whispered fiercely. Hell if he knew. "How about this?" And he captured her mouth with his. Immediately she went utterly, completely stil, and he knew he had her. If she'd fought him, he'd have let her go instantly. If she'd given him any sign that this wasn't where she wanted to be, he'd have stepped back and gone to bed. He might have been hard as steel and frustrated beyond belief, but he would have gone. She didn't give him that sign, but she didn't kiss him back, either. He wanted so much more, wanted to see her eyes slumberous and sexy with the same hunger he felt, wanted her body humming and needy for his, wanted her to look at him the way she had in his hotel room, the look that told him he was the only one who could possibly do it for her in that moment. He thought maybe he wanted even more, but that idea unsettled him, so he concentrated on the physical craving instead. Her mouth was warm and tasted exactly as he remembered. Gentling his hold, he smoothed his hands up and down her back while nibbling at her lips, teasing as he sought the entrance she would have to willingly give him. It wasn't until he said her name softly, cupping her face so that he could look deep into her eyes, that she let out a quiet hum and slid her arms around his neck. "Mike." He let out a rough groan when she tilted her head, searching for a deeper connection. And he gave it to her. Within two seconds that connection was not only deeper but scorchingly hot. Corrine had one hand fisted in his hair, holding him tight as if she thought he might back