HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) by Lynn Raye Harris

see me.”
    Cash was gripping his weapon and looking about as mean as a scorpion. “Dude, I don’t know where you got that chip, but you need to chill the fuck out,” he said to Paul. “Save the pissing contest for another time.”
    “Whatever. Fucking SEALs. Always think you’re the best at everything, don’t you?”
    “Where’d you put that duct tape, Money?” Remy asked. “I’m thinking this guy needs to shut his face before I get pissed.”
    Christina reached out and put her hand on Remy’s arm. It was like touching a hot iron in a way. She wanted nothing more than to jerk her hand away, but she kept it there while her heart hammered harder than before.
    “Look, the situation is what it is,” she said. “I came to meet with Sheikh Fahd. I was leaving tomorrow even if he hadn’t signed the papers. It’s not Paul’s fault we didn’t go today.”
    Remy whirled on her. God, he was intimidating. He hadn’t been so intimidating in her bedroom. Well, not true—he had, but in a completely different way.
    “You shouldn’t be here, Christina. At fucking all. And you damn well know it. You’ve known it the whole time. But you came anyway, and you put yourself and this man in danger by doing so. Now you’ve put us all in danger as we work to get your asses out of here.”
    Her blood was boiling, and yet guilt pricked her too. Maybe she shouldn’t be here, but what about these other people? Was she the only person they were here for?
    “There are six civilians in this group. You would have been here whether I was here or not,” she said tightly.
    “ You have a connection these people don’t. And don’t think the Freedom Force wouldn’t figure that out if you were still in the city when the rebels took it. They’d march every single American—every foreigner—into a prison camp and start figuring out how to exploit the goods. Don’t you watch the fucking news?”
    Fear gripped her. Yes, she’d watched the news. Yes, she’d seen the hostages and the beheadings. Everyone had. And yet it wasn’t here. Not in Baq. Not even close to Baq—though, geographically speaking, it was a lot closer to Baq than to the US.
    She noticed he hadn’t confirmed what she’d said—that they’d still be here even if she wasn’t. She swallowed. “I’m here now, Remy. You have me. It’s going to be fine.”
    He only glowered.

11
    T he ride was monotonous . At some point Christina fell asleep. She didn’t intend to, but she must have dozed off on Remy’s shoulder.
    She dreamed. Not of the desert. Not of sand and heat and danger. But of liquid heat, pleasure, veils. Freaking veils, like this was a tale out of One Thousand and One Nights .
    She pictured veils and Remy. His masculine face contorted in pleasure as she sank onto his cock again and again. His face as he came, the beautiful lines and furrowed brow. The intensity.
    She woke with a start, hot and achy and disappointed. Because it wasn’t real. Because she smelled gas fumes, heat, horror. The desperation that people emanated because they were afraid.
    She hadn’t forgotten where she was. She knew precisely what was happening. She looked across the aisle, her gaze landing on the redhead. The woman stared back at her, her eyes wide and afraid. Her mascara was smeared and her hair frizzed from the humidity. She looked wild. Afraid.
    “Where are we?” Christina asked of no one in particular.
    Cash spared her a glance. “On the road to Merak.”
    That wasn’t necessarily complete information, but she wasn’t going to press him. Just then an explosion sounded in the distance and the redhead gasped.
    Paul jerked from his dozing and blinked. And Remy… wait, where was Remy?
    Christina’s heart tumbled as she snapped upright, searching the vehicle. And then she nearly wilted as she realized he was sitting with his back to the two men up front, talking to them over his shoulder. He’d moved to the floor, his gun cradled in his lap, his head turned as he