Free INTO DANGER (Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) Book 1) by Gennita Low

by his feet.
    She returned her gaze to his. “Bad night?” she asked lightly, holding the door ajar.
    “What makes you think so?” he retorted, picking up the backpack and coming in.
    Steve waited till they walked past the surveillance device he knew she’d left out in the hallway (she was a sensible assassin, if there were such a thing), until they were in the living room. Without another word, he pulled her around by the elbow and pushed her against the wall.
    Maybe if he kissed her in anger, he would get rid of the constant craving to taste her. Maybe if he was a little rough this time, he would get under her skin and she would push back. Show him that hidden side of her that would repulse him. Then maybe he could get past the idea of actually liking her.
    Instead of fighting him, her arms snaked around his neck and she pulled herself up, twining her legs around his waist. Then she opened her mouth invitingly. That maddened him even more. He grabbed her hands and held them prisoner against the wall, grinding his hips against hers as he savaged her mouth. Why did she have to smell so damn good? He tried to ignore its seductive grip, concentrating on conquering the woman instead. He would conquer this strange weakness in himself.
    She shouldn’t be responding to him. She wasn’t a submissive woman. Why wasn’t she fighting him, damn her? He pushed her hands high up above her head and locked one hand around both wrists, then he roughly pushed up her blouse and cupped her breast. He muttered a curse against her lips. Why the hell didn’t she have a bra on?
    And suddenly her scent, her compliant mouth, the taste of her, the yielding softness of her breast engulfed his senses, and with a groan he settled more comfortably between her open legs. She gave a throaty response of her own when he gently played with her nipple, arching up against him. He wanted more. He wanted a response from every part of her.
    In the back of her mind, somewhere back where she stored caution and sanity, Marlena reminded herself that she could break out of his grip. The problem was, she didn’t want to. He was pissed off as hell, and it excited her. He tasted male and menacing, his lips were hard and punishing. His morning stubble scraped her cheeks, as he silently and insistently took his fill of her. His hold was anything but tender, yet she found herself responding to him, giving in to his demands. It was exhilarating to have this man focused entirely on her—his attention, all his emotions, all thought was zeroed in on her.
    This just couldn’t be. She never ever let a man take over, not in this kind of situation. But here she was, hands locked above her head, at her most vulnerable. She would not be dominated like this—should not—and the thought of stopping surfaced for a moment before he slipped his hand inside her blouse and touched her breasts. A moan escaped from deep inside her. The feel of his fingers brushing her nipple gently was a direct contrast to his conquering mouth. She felt weak, breathless. She forgot about stopping him. There was only his scent and the taste of him as his kiss become less urgent, but not less commanding. And always, always, that soft caress of his fingers on her sensitive skin. Back and forth, his thumb rolled and teased. That by-now-familiar tension in her stomach coiled tighter, her lust for his touch a damp throbbing between her legs.
    Steve tried to hang on to his disappearing anger. He didn’t want it gone. It was the only excuse he had to kiss her, to want her. He felt a certain charge of power when he was angry, as if he could handle this woman without letting his emotions get involved. To his surprise, instead of fighting him like the control freak she was, the damn woman was giving in to him. That not only dampened the edge of his temper, but now the thought of her weak and yielding only increased his desire. Damn, damn, damn.
    He broke off the kiss, fighting himself more than her. Her soft