Free Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3) by Sidney Bristol Page A

Every couple of moments, flashes of red and green light allowed her tiny glimpses of his face.
    “Then why am I stopping when all I want to do is peel your clothes off?” His voice had the low, husky tones of arousal dripping off each syllable.
    She gulped, but her brain had completely blue-screened. Nothing was firing.
    He lowered his face to hers, their lips touching, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She circled his chest, mapping his back with her hands until he broke the kiss.
    “You still taste like mango,” he said against her cheek.
    “O-oh?” And why was that important?
    “We’ve drank way too much to do anything else.”
    Was he serious?
    Alcohol was the only reason they’d gotten where they were.
    Zain continued to frown at her, or she assumed he was frowning. She got the frown-vibe pretty hard from him, even without seeing his face, so it had to carry some strong mojo with it.
    “Andrea, say something.” His voice was more of a growl, laced with frustration and the more delicious notes of—need.
    “What am I supposed to say?”
    “Anything.”
    “Anything.”
    “Seriously?”
    “What? It’s what you told me to say.”
    He snorted and dropped his face to the crook of her neck. She stared at the ceiling, her brain on the brink of shorting out again. He nuzzled her shoulder, up to the ticklish spot just under her ear, dropping little kisses here and there.
    “Why, exactly, was drinking a bad idea?” She closed her eyes, drunk on the euphoric high of lust.
    “Because.”
    “Why?”
    “You might regret it in the morning.”
    “Regret what?” Sex? She was pretty sure Zain would blow any previous experience out of the water and leave her wanting for a very long time. He didn’t strike her as the sort to do anything half-assed.
    “Being with me.”
    All her insecurities stuttered to a stop and she looked at him. Really studied him. Not just what she could see, but what she knew and felt about him. She saw him as this strong, capable soldier who could solve her problems with one hand. Literally. But was that what he saw?
    “I have a lot of regrets, but you would never be one of them.” By some miracle, her voice didn’t waver.
    He kissed her again, slow and sweet.
    Zain rolled away and threw his legs over the side of the bed putting his back toward her. The movie had finally run its course, leaving them in silence. Unlike when he’d said not now , she didn’t feel bereft of his presence.
    He peered over his shoulder at her.
    “Do you mind if I take this off?” He held up his left hand.
    In the span of a couple hours, the prosthetic had become...normal. An extension of him. Something she didn’t even think about. Not even when she’d held onto his bicep with the juncture of plastic and skin under her fingers.
    “No.”
    He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off.
    Sensor pads dotted his back, and wires connected them to the arm. He reached around and peeled off first one, then two of the pads.
    “Can...I help? Or is that rude?”
    “It’s not rude, but I got this.”
    She curled up, unable to look away and unsure if she should even be watching. The moment stretched on, intimate in a way that had nothing to do with her throbbing body. There were other scars and marks on his back and shoulders, but none as deep as the one on his face.
    Zain carried the now lifeless arm to the dresser where he arranged its parts and pieces. When he was finished, he turned and held still a moment, as if giving her the chance to look. To stare. To change her mind.
    More scars laced his body together, as if he’d been torn apart and put back together again. Without the prosthetic, his left arm ended maybe two or three inches below his elbow.
    He was beautiful in his brokenness.
    Emotion clogged her throat. She’d gone from horny to...feeling a thousand nuanced emotions all at once. Respect. Empathy. Desire. She couldn’t begin to know what it was like to be him. But he was sharing this one piece