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  Cover

  No Holding Back

  While on assignment, the last thing Marine Major Honey Thornton expected was to be called away for a meeting with the acting station chief in Istanbul. Even more surprising was the former CIA operative she met there, the ruggedly handsome and built-to-last Jack O’Brien. When attraction sizzles and the meeting turns out to be a bust, Honey and Jack decide to put their time together to more pleasurable uses.

  Slipping off to Jack’s hotel, the two quickly come to an understanding: no commitments, and no holding back. As the two mesh perfectly and surrender to the intense passion, the only question is whether they’ll stick to the rules of their casual hookup or give in to the deeper connection that sparks between them.

  Title Page

  Copyright

  No Holding Back

  Rita Henuber

  Copyright © 2014 by Rita Henuber

  Material excerpted from Point of No Return copyright © 2014 by Rita Henuber

  Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

  Beyond the Page Books

  are published by

  Beyond the Page Publishing

  www.beyondthepagepub.com

  ISBN: 978-1-940846-09-5

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Excerpt from Point of No Return

  Also by Rita Henuber

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Dust billowed across the small landing pad and through the open doors of the Army Blackhawk as it touched down. Honey removed her headgear and handed it to the chopper’s gunner. During the miserable flight she’d sat as far away from the open doors as possible, gripping her H&K M4, listening to the crew’s chatter for any hint they were about to take fire. Gawd she hated helicopters. She was still pissed she’d been woken at the butt crack of dawn to appear in Istanbul at a hastily called eight a.m. meeting by the acting station chief. She didn’t like being called out of the field without a reason. She wrapped a white and black scarf around her head to conceal her face and pale hair, then hesitated at the door. Outside, sand flapped in sheets like golden curtains in a summer wind.

  “You’re good to go,” the gunner yelled to her over cycling rotor blades.

  “Sand.” She gestured outside.

  The gunner looked out and pointed. “Not going to get better,” he said.

  She looked in the direction he indicated. Flaming fish balls. A sandstorm was approaching, engulfing everything in its path. She gathered her gear and ran to a white SUV with its lights flashing. The driver, sent by Mr. New Guy in Charge, wisely stayed in the air-conditioning and got her to the other end of the compound in minutes. Still, she entered the meeting forty-five minutes late.

  The acting SC, Jason Wingate, plus four men and one woman sat on plastic lunchroom chairs around two banquet tables shoved together.

  Wingate put down his mug. “Glad you could join us,” he said sarcastically. “Sit down.”

  She ignored the arrogant order. “I need coffee.” She searched the cluttered tops of metal file cabinets and tables for a coffeepot. There was none, and she noticed Wingate was the only one who had a cup.

  “You’ll have to wait. We’re about done here anyway.”

  Done in forty-five minutes? There were no folders on the table. She scanned the faces of the others. The woman, whom she knew to be a CIA analyst, looked pissed. She’d never seen the two men facing her. The other two had their backs to her. One wore a dirty brown ball cap, his elbow propped on the table, head in hand. He was probably sleeping.

  She looked at Wingate. She knew of him, had seen him around in one hallowed hall or another in DC, but never in the field. “Will you be filling me in on the details?”

  “No deets.”

  “What . . . was this”—she swept her hand around—“about?” Her irritation came across clearly in her tone.

  “A meet so I can get to know the people working for me.”

  She took a step, paused, then turned her head slightly, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Work for you?”

  Ball cap guy stirred.

  Wingate leaned back. A smug smile crawled across his face. “Yeah, in case you didn’t hear, I’m station chief.”

  The analyst rolled her eyes and the balding man sitting next to her shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. Ball cap guy cleared his throat.

  “Yeah . . . In case you didn’t hear . . . you were named acting station chief.” She slowly unwrapped her scarf, not only for effect but to shake out the sand. “You are filling in until the person they want is free.”

  Wingate’s smile disappeared. Ball cap guy snorted, and in her peripheral vision she saw him straighten.

  Wingate leaned and pointed at her. “Watch how you talk to your superiors.”

  Ball cap guy’s chair scraped as he positioned it to get a better look or, maybe sensing her bad mood, to get out of the way.

  “Wingate, you may be smart, maybe even brilliant, but you . . .” She let her outrage rip. “Are. Not. My superior. And be clear on this, I don’t work for you. I work for the U.S. government. I serve at the pleasure of the president, not a total asshole whose weapon of choice is a cheap government pen and who pulls an agent out of the field, forcing them to take a fucking two-hour ride in an Army eggbeater to feed their ego.” The mini tirade spilled out in rapid fire, and while she paused to get her breath, she considered looping the scarf around his neck and twisting it until his eyes bugged out.

  Wingate seemed to sense the possibility of physical danger and pushed to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process.

  Asshole wasn’t worth the effort. She turned and stalked to the door.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? I’m not through here.”

  “I’m going to get a shower and get laid.” A round of snickers filled the room.

  “I’m available to help with both,” a deep male voice said.

  She whirled around, ready to chew the owner of the voice a new one. And hello. Ball cap guy, standing tall, hat in hand, curly hair tumbling over his forehead, was giving her a high-voltage smile that, flaming fish balls, damn near took her breath away. That brilliant smile reached to his gray eyes, crimping the corners. He raised his eyebrows and titled his head in a Well? gesture.

  She gave him an up-and-down look, then, to keep her gaze from lingering on his package, turned and headed to the door. Tossing him a look ove
r her shoulder, she said, “Are you coming?”

  He looked shocked for a nanosecond. “Yessss, ma’am.”

  Wingate delivered a litany of what he was going to do to her career as she stalked out. All she was interested in was hearing ball cap guy’s footfalls behind her. In the corridor she slowed, allowing him to catch up.

  “Thanks for that,” he said. “Wingate deserved it and more. But he’s a pencil dick who’ll make trouble.”

  She stopped short and turned. “Are you married?” He collided with her and holy hell, he was solid. Visions of him over her, naked, moving in and out filled her sex-starved brain.

  “Come again?” He gave her a cool once-over.

  Damn. You look at me like that and I’ll come plenty of times. She forced the images out of her head. “Do I need to use sign language? Are you married? Have a significant other? I don’t like cheaters.”

  “No,” he said quickly.

  She believed him. Guys who lied usually said I don’t cheat or held up their left hand to show no ring, like that proved something. Well, it did. It generally proved they were lying.

  “Are you?” he countered.

  She shook her head “No” and gave him another eyeballing. “You have a place off the compound?”

  He blinked. “Yeah. But I thought that . . . was a show to . . .”

  “Up to you. Go, no-go,” she said, hoping like hell he’d say go. She stared, really liking what she saw. Big hands, big feet, nice lips, and unless he was carrying concealed, from what she could see a more than adequate package. Damn, she was glad she hadn’t blown off coming here. He made every second of the lousy chopper ride worth it.

  “Would you like me to turn around so you can check my ass?” And again with the breath- stealing smile.

  “No, thanks.” She flashed him her best smile. “I’ve seen most of the working parts I need to see. You have a vehicle?”

  “Yes.”

  “This place of yours have a decent bathroom where I can get a shower?”

  He nodded.

  She briefly considered telling him this was about a shower and hot sex. A one off. Nothing else. But getting serious could really take the fun out of a hookup. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “First”—he held out his hand—“I’m Jack O’Brien.”

  Geeze. Her brain was so filled with visions of him stripped nekked and pounding into her there wasn’t room for things like names. “Good to meet you.” She took his strong, warm, calloused hand. “Major H. K. Thornton.” She looked back to the conference room door. “Can we get out of here before pencil dick decides to come after us?”

  “Yeess, ma’am.”

  Chapter 2

  They said nothing as he drove them to the best and most secure hotel in the city. He stole quick glances at her, wondering how this would go down. If she would go through with it. She didn’t balk as he let them into the suite, only looked around and said, “Nice.”

  He was looking at her, thinking the same thing.

  “Bathroom is that way, through the bedroom.” He tipped his head.

  “Would you please order a pot of coffee and food. I’m starving.”

  “Anything special?”

  “Nope. Food is fine with me.” She headed to the bedroom, stripping her tee away.

  “Major?”

  She stopped at the door and faced him.

  The shirt was in her hand and his eyes greedily took in her flat stomach, rocking abs and hard nipples peaking the cloth of a white cotton sports bra. He put his hands on the door frame to keep from reaching for her. “What’s the H for? If you don’t mind, I’d like to call you something besides Major.”

  “Honey,” she said in a low, throaty voice as she smiled and closed the door.

  Damn. He rested his forehead on the door and considered getting naked and joining her but ultimately decided to give her privacy and cool his jets. He hadn’t even touched her except for the handshake and he was ready to shoot in his jeans. He popped the cap on a bottle of water, and after his boner deflated he left the suite and headed to the concierge desk. He could have ordered the food with a call but didn’t trust himself to wait patiently for her to green-light the sex.

  He returned when the staff delivered the order. They covered the small dining table with an array of local dishes and disappeared with the carts and a hefty tip. He was hungry and ordered damn near everything on the menu. She’d probably pick at a few things and he’d finish the rest. He glanced to the still-closed bedroom door. He’d expected her to come out when she heard the activity. Fuck. He had a full body twitch. She could have split while he was gone. He listened at the bedroom door for sounds. None. He rapped lightly. “Major?” Nothing. He was a class A fool.

  He swung open the door and blew out the breath he’d been holding. There she was, on the bed, an arm thrown over her eyes. One leg hung off the side, toes brushing the floor. A corner of the sheet she clutched covered her body, leaving her thighs exposed. If he moved to a better vantage point, plenty more would be exposed. He debated on letting her sleep or waking her up to eat. Wake her up won.

  “Honey.” No response. Fuck, she’d yanked his chain with that name. “Major.” This time he said it louder and gave her arm a shake. “Maj—”

  She moved in a blur to a sitting position, grasping his wrist, bending back his arm and forcing him to his knees. As he went down, her strong legs circled his body, squeezing like a vise. Her other hand grasped his throat. Tight.

  “Thornton,” he choked out. His windpipe was cracking. “Hotel.” He could barely breathe but knew fighting her would only make things worse. “Shower. Good guy.”

  She sucked a breath through clenched teeth, then another, and the hand around his throat relaxed. Another breath and the hand dropped to his chest and she released his wrist.

  “Okay?” The word rode out on a cough.

  She gave a single nod, but her breathing hadn’t returned to normal and her eyes were that freaky white color he’d seen earlier when she chewed Wingate a new one.

  He risked placing a hand on the curve of her hip. The other he used to rub his throat. “Rough when they come back like that,” he said, letting her know he understood. Another nod. He’d had his share of adrenaline-fueled ready-to-fight wake-ups. Startled and disoriented, howling and fighting ghosts or, in a real battle, for your life.

  “O’Brien,” she said softly, “you okay? Did I hurt you?” Her eyes were returning to a normal color.

  “No. Not hurt.” He was hurting, but for her. “Coffee and a shitload of food is in the other room. But . . .” He looked down at her breasts, past the hard peaks of her nipples, down her toned body, down to the proof that her pale hair was natural, and bit back the urge to say holy shit, lay her back on the bed and fuck her until the sheets caught fire. “You don’t unwrap your legs,” he said, then puffed up his cheeks and blew out a breath, “that food is gonna get cold ’cause I wouldn’t be able to hold back.” The heat coming from between her thighs penetrated his jeans and warmed his painfully hard dick. The muscles in her thighs clenched and he imagined how they’d feel as he slammed in and out of her hot wetness. Fuck. Regretfully her legs fell away.

  “Sorry about. . . .” She put her hand to her throat. “I’d rather eat first.” Her hand floated to the waist of his jeans and then lower. “I need fuel for the hot sex part.”

  It took a hell of a lot of control not to moan when she scraped her nails across his package. He pushed to his feet, bringing her with him. She leaned against him and his hands went on autopilot, circling to her ass. Instead of planting a hard I want to fuck you now kiss on her full lips, he delivered a soft, teasing one. She surprised him by nipping his lower lip, then plunging her tongue into his mouth as her rocking body rubbed against him. He broke the bruising kiss and groaned. “Damn. You sure you want to eat first?”

  Right on cue her stomach grumbled like a grouchy bear. Her hand flicked to her stomach and one side of her mouth curled upward. “I haven’t
eaten since yesterday.”

  Gently he separated from her and took another long look at her body. His mind was on eating also. Eating her. When he went down on her, how sweet she’d taste. But he nodded and managed a “yeah,” then backed away, pivoted, and left the room smiling as he thought of kissing, touching, and tasting every inch of her. Pounding into her in the hard and fast, long slow fuckfests to come.

  “Smells wonderful,” she said, tying the belt of the plush hotel robe as she came to join him. Her hair was pulled to one side, over a shoulder, and she was barefoot. She dropped into the chair opposite him and began serving herself. The robe gapped with each reach, flashing generous views of cleavage. He forced his gaze back to her face as she popped a fig into her mouth, pouring coffee while she chewed.

  She swallowed. “Are you going to eat anything?”

  “Uhh, yes,” he said and a disappointed look crossed her face. If the amount of food she piled on her plate was any indication of what was to come, she was filling the tank for a long haul. He got busy filling his plate for his own fueling.

  There wasn’t much talking, but a lot of orgasmic moaning and groaning came from Honey as she tasted each dish. He kept quiet, thinking of her making those sounds when their bodies were slamming together. Each time her tongue swiped her lips he damn near had a cardiac event imagining what that tongue could do to his dick.

  She put her napkin on the table and leaned back. “Thanks for this. I was hungry.”

  He grinned. “Ya think?” She’d eaten two-thirds of the food. He’d never seen a woman eat that much. Especially one as fit as . . . Honey. A hell of a name for a woman like her, but he decided it suited her.

  She shrugged, returned the smile, then rose and went to the terrace. “Nice view.” While taking in the panoramic view of manicured gardens and the lake beyond, she gathered her hair to the back, fingers swiftly forming a single braid. She turned. “Langley doesn’t mind you putting this on their tab?” Her arms up, in that position, created a gap in the robe, giving him a nice view that was a hell of a lot better than the lake and gardens below.