The Soldier (Men Who Thrill Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

worry.
    “Sir, is everything okay?” she asked.
    The question was innocuous enough, but it was threaded with a sternness that was belied by the innocent act, and I couldn’t miss the disapproval in her voice.
    I stepped closer to her, and she stepped back, a little dance that continued until she was flush against the door. I moved even closer, close enough that our bodies touched, the tips of her breasts grazing my chest. She’d started to breathe heavily but went completely still when I reached up and then jumped, ever so slightly, when I turned the lock closed.
    I didn’t lower my hand, instead resting it on the door next to her head.
    She glanced over at it and then back at me, and when our eyes met, I could see the understanding dawn. I wasn’t one of the blind fools she dealt with at Titan, and she knew it. She was also completely trapped, at my mercy, which she knew as well. Unmoving, I held her gaze, wanting her to see the powerlessness of her position and interested to see how she’d react.
    There was little at first, just that hint of resignation and understanding. But then I saw a faint glimmer of something in her gaze, and before I could interpret it, she again stood on tiptoe and covered my lips with her own. When her lips touched mine, I acknowledged that despite my professed lack of attraction, some distant part of me had been expecting this. And looking forward to it.
    She kissed me harder this time, her lips pressing against mine, a feeling that I realized I was coming to enjoy quite a lot. She moved her mouth tentatively, questioningly, and I was more than happy to answer.
    I took over the kiss, pressing my tongue against the seam of her lips until she opened and granted me entry. Then, as I swept my tongue into her mouth, I moved forward until she was flush against the door, her soft body trapped against the hardness of my own and the metal portal. I kissed her thoroughly, tracing every millimeter of her mouth with my tongue, trying to ignore the sweetness of her, ignore the sensation of her huffed-out breaths, ignore the press of her hardened nipples against my chest.
    Instead, I focused on showing her that I was on to her game, that a sweet little kiss didn’t have the power to throw me off. But, as I’d suspected she would, she pushed back, thrust her tongue into my mouth, mimicking my movements, ran her small hands over my chest, telling me, without words that she wouldn’t yield in this fight.
    That thought charged me. I loved battle, and Jordan was proving to be a worthy opponent.
    Unwilling to let her response go unanswered, I deepened the kiss even further and moved my hands up, grazing the T-shirt as I moved up her waist and settled my hands on her breasts. I almost groaned when I realized they were unrestrained, but held the exclamation back, not wanting to give her any hint that she was affecting me.
    But then again, if the raging hard-on that was resting against her stomach wasn’t a clue, I didn’t know what would be.
    Still, I had a point to prove, and in furtherance of that objective—and not because of any desire that may or may not have existed on my part—I closed my hands around her breasts, containing as much of them as I could, testing their weight and their firm softness in my palms as I continued to kiss her.
    I brushed the heels of my hands against her nipples, which were puckered into tight little buds, and felt a rush of victory when she puffed out a groan, one that I captured, my lips still sealed over hers. She squirmed under my touch, which only made me want to touch her more. So I did, kneading the heavy weight of her breasts with my hands.
    Needing to feel her skin, I released her and lowered my hands, and as I skimmed down her front, I finally broke the kiss. But I didn’t let up, instead nibbling at her lips with hard, biting kisses. As I lifted her shirt past the waistband of her shorts, I was struck by a thought too powerful to ignore and changed course.