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Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Please help me.
Her outfit should’ve cooled his ardor faster than ice cubes down his drawers, but instead, they somehow only made his desire for her soar. Goddamn, he was in a terrible way. He looked away fast, doing his best to concentrate on the huge gold, glitter bow she’d tied out of garland and tacked above the windows. The last thing on this earth he cared about at the moment was some dumbass Christmas decorations, but staring at those was better than staring at her while his cock ached painfully against his button fly. “It’s fine.”
Shayma’s bright smile fell slightly. “That’s it? Fine is all I get?”
“What do you want me to say?” he turned back to face his computer, well aware he was acting like a complete ass, but unable to help himself. Truth was, he missed his sister so much his heart ached and the fact that Shayma was here with him, and had taken the time to decorate the place despite his Scrooge-ness, only made him feel more vulnerable.
And if there was one thing Murphy Coen didn’t do, it was vulnerable.
That was part of the reason he’d become a SEAL. Nobody messed with them. They kicked ass and took names, with the names usually being optional. Frustrated in more ways than one, he raked his hands through his short black hair and stared at the computer screen in front of him. So far his tally for the evening wasn’t good. He had no senator’s name and a hard cock to show for his efforts. Nothing else.
“Well, I’ll just take this down then,” Shayma said, her tone back to its usual efficient, cheerful self. If his sister wasn’t missing and he wasn’t such a mess emotionally, he’d walk right over there and grab her off that ladder and fuck her so hard and so good neither of them would ever forget it. “Since you don’t seem to care either way.”
His anger at himself for acting like such an idiot came out as irritation toward her, but he didn’t seem to have any control over himself at this point. He felt like a caged tiger ready to pounce and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He ground his teeth, then snapped, “Why are you still here anyway? You should’ve gone back to your posh hotel suite after the park.”
Seemingly unfazed by his rudeness, Shayma stood on the stepladder to reach the garland bow, grinning down at him while those silly pink PJs hugged her ass and all but begged him to cup those cheeks in his hands. “Boy, you really lose yourself in your work, don’t you? I told you that Mel texted me and asked if she and Daveed could have one more night alone at the Plaza. You grunted when I asked if I could stay here again, so I assumed that was a yes in your caveman-speak.”
Murphy pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tipped his head back. Yeah, he remembered that now, but she was right. He had been lost in his search for the senator who might know something about his sister’s disappearance and hadn’t really paid much attention to what she was asking.
Restless, he pushed to his feet to grab a beer from the fridge in the kitchen when a startled gasp echoed out from behind him. He turned just in time to see the ladder tip sideways and Shayma toppling from the rungs. Putting all his SEAL-honed quick reflexes to good use, Murphy dashed across the room and snatched Shayma out of the air before she hit the ground, holding her fast to his chest as the ladder crashed to the floor. Luckily, the tree was still standing, thought the garland she’d been tinkering with now hung from the ceiling like a droopy party streamer.
With Shayma’s shaking body in his arms, he hurried to the sofa and sat down, cradling her in his lap as he cupped her cheeks and forced her to meet his gaze. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself in the fall? I knew those decorations were a bad idea. You could’ve broken your neck screwing around with those stupid things.”
She swallowed hard and blinked, tears forming in her dark doe eyes and damn. Now he felt even more like shit than he did before. He’d never meant to make her cry, just to make her go away so he could grieve his missing sister and wallow in his loneliness in peace.
“I’m sorry.” Shayma said, the slight hitch in her voice causing what was left of his broken heart to shatter. “I-I thought I could help make you feel better by making things f-festive. I know what it’s like to be alone over the holidays. I m-miss my family too, back in Al Dar Nasrani. I thought I’d be able to book a late flight back home for Christmas, but now my parents have decided to travel over the holidays and I don’t have anywhere to go and no one to share the day with and…” She dissolved into tears against his chest and the last of his defenses against her crumbled.
Rocking slowly back and forth while murmuring soothing endearments against the top of her silky hair, Murphy just held her, allowing his warmth and touch to hopefully calm her and make her feel a little less alone.
A glance outside showed the snow had picked up again and with the golden glow of the tree and the hint of pine incense she’d bought at the shop wafting through the air, the apartment felt more like home than anywhere he’d been in years. Thanks in no small part to the woman sniffling in his arms.
Getting closer to her would be a very bad idea. She was too strong, too opinionated, too unforgettable to bring him anything but heartbreak in the end. Then again, she’d be flying home to her island paradise after the holidays and no one really needed to know what they were up to here in their tiny winter wonderland, right? He pressed a kiss to the top of her silky black hair and closed his eyes as he inhaled her scent—cloves and cinnamon and warm, clean woman.
If she still wanted him, like she had back at the park, Lord knew he was willing. At least for tonight.
Beyond that, he’d have to reassess.
Strategy had always been his strong suit on his SEAL team and he tried to apply those same principles to his personal life too—plan, assess all possible outcomes, implement, reassess. Problem was, his emotions never wanted to fit in the nice, neat squares he made for them. That’s why he always tried to push them deep down where they couldn’t interfere.
Too bad Shayma seemed to bring them all to the surface and then some.
She raised her eyes to his and he felt that pitiful look straight through to his soul. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go.”
Pulse pounding loud in his ears and muscles tense with need, he slid his hands from her shoulders to cup her cheeks again. “What I want…”
His words trailed off, seeming inadequate for what he wanted from her—sex, caring, devotion, companionship. Love? The world went cockeyed over that last one. Nope. Love wasn’t part of his equation, not at the holidays, not ever. If they spent the night together, it would be a gift of comfort, a gift of hope that maybe they weren’t so alone in the big bad world as they each imagined they were. A gift of one night of passion. Never to be repeated.
Shayma continued to stare up at him, her eyes wide and trusting, the naked need in her gaze like an electric jolt straight to his cock. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her and dammit, tonight she’d have him. They’d have each other.
He leaned closer, until only millimeters separated his lips from hers. His thumbs stroked her delicate cheekbones and her long lashes fluttered as her warm minty breath ghosted over his face. “What I want,” he said, his eyes focusing on the tip of her pink tongue, flicking out to lick her lips, “is you.”
Her breasts grazed his chest as she leaned closer to press her mouth to his on a sigh. He groaned low and feral in his throat, one of his hands sliding around the tangle of hair at the back of her head while the other went to her back, molding her body closer to his, unable to get enough of her. Never enough.
Aching for her addictive taste, he traced his tongue along the seam of her lips then took possession of her mouth as she opened to him—licking, sucking, nipping, loving every single little mewl and moan of passion coming from her. For the umpteenth time that night he cursed his own stupidity. Once with Shayma wouldn’t slake his need for her. He planned to make love to her all night long, live out all those dirty fantasies that had played over and over in his head since he’d met her—take her against the wall, on the floor in front of the windows, on the breakfast bar, in the bed. Wherever the hell she’d have him.
With a growl, he pushed to his feet, carrying Shayma with him. When he tried to pull back, she only gripped him harder, her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist, grinding the heat between her thighs against his rock-hard erection. Jesus. All those snipers back in the Middle East hadn’t killed him, this night with Shayma just might.
Murphy started for the bed, but only made it as far as the living room wall when Shayma trailed a hand down his chest and straight to his groin, cupping his throbbing cock in her hand. He presse
