The Daredevil. Kira Sinclair

middle name was Constance.” His chest brushed against the curve of her back, his hand snaking around the circle of her waist to hold her flat against him. Her throat went tight at the sensation.

      “That’s because I don’t like it. My father picked it. It was my aunt’s name.” Her words were forced, breathy. She sounded like someone else, some seductive siren—someone she’d never been or could be.

      “You’re right. I like Sabrina much better.”

      “I don’t like Sabrina either…it was my mother’s middle name. No one calls me Sabrina.” Not since her mother had left when she was five. That’s when the General had begun to call her Rina.

      He stared down at her with a heat that had her knees melting out from under her. “Maybe someone should.”

      Thank God for the counter.

      Maybe she should take a step back before she jumped him right on top of the glass. That was taking reckless too far.

      “Done.” Smacking her pen on top of the papers, Rina turned and headed for the dresses hanging on the far wall. She needed to get away from him for a minute, to breathe some air that wasn’t permeated with Chase. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the sort of woman to contemplate grabbing a man and devouring him in public.

      Whipping through the rack, she picked the first one that was her size, headed for the dressing room and pulled it on.

      Despite contorting herself into a pretzel, she could not get the zipper up. Yelling out, “Can you zip me,” she headed into the small room between the dressing areas, holding the strap-less number to her chest.

      Chase walked out of the other side, dressed to kill from head to toe. The tux he wore might not have been designed specifically for him, but it came pretty damn close to fitting perfectly. Uniforms were great and all, but Rina had a thing for a man in a tux. For this man in a tux.

      Presenting her back to him, she held her breath, hoping to slow the rhythm of her roaring heart. He just stood there for several moments. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, traveling the length of her naked spine. Goose bumps ghosted up her skin. Beneath her shielding arm her nipples tightened and swelled.

      The soft tread of his feet on worn linoleum should have been a warning, but when his fingers touched the small of her back she jumped anyway. She gulped in a large lungful of air, too much, because it rushed straight to her head, making the room waver. A single finger trailed a featherlight line across the indentation at the base of her spine. It took her a minute to realize what he was doing, her brain having malfunctioned at the spike of electricity from his touch.

      “Somehow I didn’t take you for the fairy type.”

      Rina turned her head, knowing she couldn’t see the tiny picture tattooed on her lower back but trying anyway. Most of the time she forgot it was even there.

      “Bout of rebellion the year I graduated high school. It is a little fanciful for me, which is probably why I got it in the first place.”

      Chase took another step closer, the heat of his body warming her skin.

      “Oh, I don’t know. You have a whimsical side. I’ve seen it.” His fingers trailed slowly up the curve of her spine. She felt the sting and sizzle at the apex of her thighs as his knuckles scraped over each bump and valley.

      “How many men have you let see—” his fingers moved down again, lightly brushing across the picture on her skin before dipping down into the still-open dress to brush the upper swell of her bottom “—that side of yourself?”

      Rina drew in a deep, ragged breath before answering, “Enough.”

      The woman bustled in. “Elvis is here, if you’re…I’m sorry.”

      “No. It’s fine. Just let me get this zipper.”

      Chase zipped her up before moving away. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or regret that washed through her. Probably a combination of both.

       2

      FOR A JOKE, their Elvis was seriously into his role. He didn’t break character once as the photographer posed them for several shots. In fact, he even insisted on reciting the marriage vows. Both Chase and Sabrina tried to explain it wasn’t necessary but the man didn’t pay attention. Finally, they just shrugged and played along.

      The whole thing was over in ten minutes. Sabrina giggled; it was a sound he hadn’t expected. It clashed with the polished exterior she showed the world. But after seeing the fanciful fairy on her back…maybe that carefree sound was more her than he’d ever realized. He’d always pictured her as studious, serious.

      But he’d instinctively known there was something beneath, something she wouldn’t let out…something she didn’t let free. He’d wanted so badly to rumple her up, to ruffle her calm facade. To leave her mouth swollen from kisses and her eyes bleary with desire just to prove to them both that the passion was there, waiting.

      He’d given in to the urge once. And it had been much more than he’d expected. Six years ago she’d taken things slowly—fighting the connection they both knew existed between them. And then she’d been gone.

      If the way she flirted, touched and looked at him tonight with those smoldering green eyes was anything to go by, Sabrina McAllister had changed. And she wasn’t fighting anything now. Pure animal lust shot straight to his groin at the thought.

      Elvis said, “You may kiss the bride, baby.” And Chase found himself indulging in a fantasy six years in the making—kissing Sabrina McAllister. The sensation was somewhere close to pulling a Split-S.

      The woman behind the counter handed them an envelope with several photographs. Chase paid for them—the damn things cost two hundred dollars. He hadn’t realized a joke could be so expensive. Although, he’d have paid a hell of a lot more than that for a chance to kiss her again.

      They walked back out into the night together as she looked at the pictures. They were hilarious. And she was beautiful. Sabrina laughed at the expression on Elvis’s face, flipping through them quickly. Until she reached the last one, the one of their kiss, and she seemed to still.

      The photographer was good. He’d captured every last speck of desire that had coursed through Chase’s lips and into Sabrina. Her body arched into the strength of his hold. Her fingers dug into the shoulders of his tux, drawing him closer. Just looking at the image fired his blood all over again.

      Rina stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling him still beside her. The city bustled around them. Even at this late hour no one was ready to let the night go. He certainly wasn’t.

      Neither was she. Turning to face him, she said, “Kiss me again.”

      He didn’t need a second invitation. Wrapping his arms around her, Chase pulled their bodies close. The world moved on without them. People passed by, talking. Neon lights blinked on and off. And a blast of noise from a nightclub down the street burst into the silence that had surrounded them.

      But nothing mattered. Nothing except the feel of Sabrina against him. The heat of her lips beneath his. The heady scent of her, more intoxicating than the alcohol he’d drunk hours before.

      Her hands grabbed onto the nape of his neck and tugged, tugged harder, needing more.

      He obliged, opening his mouth wider, taking her in.

      After several moments Sabrina pulled back, staring up at him with passion-filled eyes. Her chest rose and fell against his own with each ragged breath. His arms tightened, wanting to hold her closer. Feel her closer.

      “Do you want to come back to my place?”

      Her words whispered against his skin, coaxing him to make the quick, easy decision. But there was nothing easy about Sabrina. And there had certainly never been anything easy about their…attraction. And the fact that he would be leaving in less than three days made this much more complicated