Lear

It was supposed to be a one-night stand with a tall, wiry, handsome, slightly nerdy guy with oddly captivating green eyes. Those eyes were the only clue that there was a lot more to this guy than I’d first assumed—they were hard, wickedly intelligent, cunning eyes. They hid more than they revealed, and the name he gave, Lear, seemed made up. But he was sexy and he talked a good game, and I was in the mood for some fun. 


Turns out, though, that the green-eyed nerd I’d so enjoyed sleeping with was no one to screw around with, either. And he doesn’t like being forced to violence—which he was, in rescuing me. Not that I needed rescuing, mind you. I mean, there were a lot of them, and they were tough, and well-trained. 


I could kick ass and takes names with the best black-ops commandos in the world, and this mysterious Lear seemed to be no slouch either. It would take all of our combined skills to stay alive, but that’s not the part I was worried about. 


No, what worried me wasn’t staying alive, it was staying out of love. I’d agreed to let Lear into my pants—one night only, thanks, and goodbye…it seemed fate had other ideas.