EMILY TREMBLED AS A SHIVER skated over her body. Ryan was touching her. Gently, sweetly, in a way that he hadn’t touched her since that night in his apartment. It was so tempting. So damn tempting to say yes.

Her heart begged her to say yes. If she married him, she could make him love her.

No. That was exactly the kind of thinking that had led her into a downward spiral when she’d been a teen. You didn’t make people love you. Thinking you could only led to heartbreak.

“I can’t,” she whispered, dropping her head until her hair fell forward and curtained her face from his view. There were so many reasons. He didn’t love her. He would end up resenting her no matter what he said. And marrying her meant the end of his career unless she finished this mission and Ian kept his promise.

Maybe it still meant an end of his career, even with her name cleared. Because HOT would know who she was and Colonel Mendez would be furious that Ryan had been involved with her in the first place.

“Do you honestly want to do this alone?”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes glittered like hot flames.

“No… but that doesn’t mean we have to marry.”

“I’m trying to do right by you. What the hell do you think Brandy will do to me once he finds out? Or, worse, your sister?”

Emily’s belly churned with irritation. “Do you think I care what they think right now? Victoria is half a world away—and Nick’s your teammate. He’s not a fool, and he’s not going to suggest pistols at dawn or anything. He only worries about me insomuch as my welfare affects Victoria’s.”

How could she tell him that she would have married him in a second if he’d asked for any other reason than it was his duty because he’d knocked her up? How could she admit to what she felt for him when it was abundantly clear he didn’t feel the same way?

He’d only ever felt sorry for her and responsible in some way, even before the baby. She didn’t doubt that he cared, in his own fashion, but she knew he didn’t love her. And dammit, that’s what she wanted out of life now. She was old enough and had been through enough to know what she wanted.

She wanted a man who loved her, who couldn’t live without her because doing so would leave him incomplete. She wanted passion and equality—in short, she wanted what Victoria had with Nick. That man worshipped her. Worshipped the ground she walked on. He’d do anything for her, sacrifice anything for her happiness.

Emily might not have known what real love between a couple was if she hadn’t watched her sister and Nick over the past few months.

Now that she knew, she didn’t want to settle for less in her own life. Maybe she was deluding herself, but she had to believe there was more for her too.

“I don’t know how else to fix this, Emily. Marrying is the right thing to do for our kid. You’ll be my dependent, eligible for medical care and my life insurance if something happens to me. We’d get housing and benefits from the military. You could go back to school, finish your degree. You wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job or a place to live.”

Yes, she knew all those things were important. But it was so cut-and-dried, so raw and logical. Not an ounce of feeling in there. Not an ounce of passion. Just practicality. And he still hadn’t even addressed the biggest question of all, which was his job in HOT. He had to know what he was risking, but he acted like it didn’t exist.

“Once more, you are alllll romance, big guy.” She pushed away and stood. He looked up from his kneeling position, and her heart skipped a beat at the perfection of that face. “The answer is still no.”

He got to his feet, scowling hard. “You aren’t thinking this through, Emily.”

“I’m thinking just fine. I don’t want to get married because it’ll make you feel better. I want to get married because you can’t imagine life without me.”

He didn’t say anything, and she died just a little inside.

“Life isn’t a romance novel,” he said, eyes flashing.

Emily snorted. “Seriously? Who are you telling? I’m the poster child for dysfunctional relationships—which is why I’m not going to marry you like this.” She shook her head. “I wish it were different, Ry. I wish we were in love, dating, and you wanted to marry me because you just had to spend your life with me. Because you knew deep in your heart and soul that I was the only person for you. But that’s not what’s happening here, and we both know it. So please stop trying to bully me into marriage for the sake of your conscience.”

He clenched his fists at his sides. “You aren’t shutting me out of this kid’s life, Emily.”

“I didn’t say I was!”

His brows arrowed downward. Then he pointed at her. “Let me tell you something else while we’re at it. You aren’t endangering my kid’s life, or yours, by continuing to work for Ian Black. I want you on the next plane out of here. I want you safe.”

And there it was. His real motive for coming here. “I’m not going. If I leave now, those hostages are dead. Do you really want that to happen? Linda Cooper is pregnant, her husband’s waiting for her at Aviano Air Base, probably praying to God that she comes home safely with their child—and you want me to get on a plane when I’m on the verge of getting the location out of my contact? No. Fucking. Way.”

“You don’t have to be here. Hassan Mustafa wants the money, and he doesn’t care who delivers it. You’re leaving.”

Emily folded her arms over her chest. “I’m really not. I’ll go when this is over, but not a moment sooner.”

He didn’t look any happier, but he tilted his head and considered her. “You’ll go willingly when the hostages are free? Back to DC and the life you had before?”

The life she had before. He made it sound like it was this awesome thing, when in fact she’d been lost and lonely and, well, purposeless in so many ways.

“Yes, Ryan, I’ll go back. I don’t have much choice. I’m not having my baby in Acamar. I’m not very useful to Ian if I can’t go into the field anymore—and I can’t with a child, can I?” She pulled a deep breath. “I’ll go back and finish my degree, go to work and make a life for me and the baby. I promise you that.”

“You still aren’t meeting with Mustafa. One of us can go.”

Her blood boiled over. She’d never realized just how autocratic he was. He’d never told her what to do before—not ever—but since he’d arrived yesterday, he hadn’t stopped bossing her around for a single minute.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m not letting you go, Emily.”

“You don’t have a choice. I work for Ian, not you. I’m going.”

“Do you even give a shit about this baby? About yourself?”

Emily launched herself at him, prepared to slap him upside his arrogant head, but he caught her raised arm and held her tight. She brought the other one up, but he caught that arm too.

“You’re an asshole! Let go!”

He didn’t hold her too tightly, but his grip was firm, his fingers pressing into her wrists, immobilizing her. Then he pushed her arms down, behind her back, and caught both wrists in one hand before slamming her full length against him.

Emily gasped at the sudden pressure of his body against hers. His heat seared into her, reminded her forcefully of that night they’d spent together when the heat between them had been incendiary.

Ryan was all muscle. All brawn and hard-bodied yumminess. And her core melted at the contact. It infuriated her and alarmed her too. How could she be firm with him when all he had to do was touch her like this and her entire body dissolved into a puddle of warm, syrupy desire?

If he asked her to marry him now, she’d probably agree. In fact, she’d probably agree to anything if it meant she could feel more of his body against hers—and she hated herself for it. He was her weakness, her addiction.

And it was worse because she didn’t affect him the same way, didn’t matter to him at all—

His cock swelled, the pressure against her belly growing. She tilted her head back, her mouth dropping open slightly. His gaze was fierce, possessive.

Vaguely, she knew she was supposed to be fighting him, insisting that he let her go—but she couldn’t think of a thing to say when he looked at her like that, when his body pressed into hers and his cock grew hard.

He speared his free hand into her hair, tilted her head back. “Emily. Jesus, what you do to me…”

“What, Ry?” she whispered, her throat tight and raw. “What do I do to you?”

“This,” he growled—and then he kissed her.