by Norris, Kris
“Wait. If you’ve already showered, why do you still have some glitter on your face? Isn’t that from the wedding?”
Six moved in closer, palming his hands on either side of her hips. Effectively boxing her in. “You really don’t remember anything, do you? Not even this morning?”
She swallowed. Hard. Her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “This morning?”
He stepped back, extending his hand. “Come with me.”
She stared at his hand then took it. “Where are we going?”
“You might want to take a look in the mirror.”
She frowned, following him as he led them to the bathroom. Kam winced at the flash of bright light when he flicked the switch, blinking a few times before staring at her reflection in the mirror. She inhaled, brushing her fingers across the sparkly dots on her face casting colored spots on the glass.
Six moved in behind her, lifting her hair off her shoulders—brushing his thumb down the length of her neck. “The glitter’s from when you kissed me just before Cannon showed up. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but once you opened your eyes—saw it was me—you grabbed my neck. Pulled me down. Said something about needing to remember how I tasted.”
She inhaled, held it, then slowly turned to face him. “I…kissed you? This morning?”
“Well, kiss is a bit of an understatement. It was more like a carnal act of war.” He moved in close, arms on either side of her hips as he palmed the counter behind her. “One I plan on answering. So…do you want to shower before I do that? Or after?”
Chapter Eight
He was going to kiss her. Right there in the bathroom. Her back against the counter. His arms braced to either side. Not touching her, but holding her captive just the same. Trapping her between the sink and his body. The one she’d been dreaming about exploring for months. That was only inches away.
Kameron wasn’t even going to have to move. Tip-toe up to reach him. Not with the way he’d leaned forward. Placed that perfect mouth of his level with hers. Just waiting for her to give him a sign. Maybe a slight tilt of her head. A bat of her eyelashes.
Six didn’t speak. Didn’t break eye contact. Didn’t give her an inch. He just held firm, all that intense focus centered on her. Waiting. As if he had nothing better to do than stand there, their breath mixing. Gazes locked. A minute shift, and their bodies were skimming each other. Barely touching. Yet, she felt his presence like a gravitational force pulling her toward him. A collision that had been taking shape since the day they’d met.
Kam wet her lips, damn near moaned when he shifted his attention just enough to follow the slow swipe. She exhaled, his name rasping free on a breath of air. “Six.”
One side of his mouth lifted at the rough sound. Then, the other. Until he was smiling. Not smug. As if he’d been expecting her to give in. He looked genuinely pleased. Almost surprised. Though, that faded. Quickly replaced by that sexy confidence that glowed around the man like a damn beacon. The one she’d been blinded by all this time. Only, she wasn’t in the shadows, anymore.
Six angled down slightly, brushing his mouth across hers. Not a kiss. More a promise of one. A glimpse of where they were heading. Where they’d been heading all this time.
“Kam.”
That did her in. Her name in that low raspy voice. The feel of it feathering across her skin. She closed her eyes, sinking against him as his mouth slid over hers. And god help her, it was better than she’d imagined. Better than kissing any other guy, and he hadn’t done much more than press their lips together. Steal her breath. She wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. If he wasn’t convinced she really wanted this. If this was just a tease.
Hell, no. She’d been fighting her attraction for months, and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip past without a real taste. One she could put into memory—in case this was her only chance. That he’d realize he could do so much better than an ex-intelligence officer who’d had to piece herself back together. Who’d lost some of those pieces back in the desert.
Kam lifted her arms—speared her hands through his hair. Wrapping the silky strands around her fingers. Did every man have hair this soft? Like velvet? Caressing her skin as she crushed her mouth against his, opening when he licked at the seam of her lips.
Six paused for a moment, mouth open. Waiting. Then, his hands were on her back. Her ass. Sliding through her hair as he shuffled them sideways—pinned her to the wall. All that muscle hard against her. Molding her against his frame. She vied for control, giving it to him when he lifted her just enough to grind her cleft on his erection.
And if she hadn’t tensed every muscle—hadn’t physically fought it off—she would have orgasmed. Right there. Shattered in his arms from nothing more than a kiss.
And it scared her down to her bones. That he had this effect on her. That she wanted—no, needed him. Not just as a partner. A teammate. But in her life. Her bed. Every day and night for the foreseeable future. Until death, just like in the damn vows. The ones that were nothing more than ghostly echoes in her head. Intangible memories that never quite took shape.
Had she tensed? Moaned? Accidentally shoved at him because he stopped. Mouths still joined, his body holding hers prisoner against the wall. But the fire—the intensity in his touch—had vanished. As if he’d flicked a switch.
Panic crawled along her spine, beading her skin, as Six eased back, tilting his head to one side. Glancing over his shoulder at the door. Kam frowned, wondering if he was trying to map out an exit strategy. If he needed a plan on how to untangle their limbs—navigate the four feet of space between them and the door.
She should let go. Give him an out. But trying to get her fingers to open—release that mass of brown hair. Allow that sexy mouth to move out of range of hers... The signals weren’t getting through. Instead, she nuzzled his neck, licking at the pulse point near the base. “Six.”
He moaned. Or was it a growl? She didn’t know. Didn’t care because he was back. Rubbing against her, flexing his fingers as he tilted his head—granted her access. She kissed her way up to his jaw, nipping at his lower lip.
Dark brown eyes—more umber than coffee, now—gazed down at her, his eyebrow arching in question. “Was that a challenge?”
God, his voice. How could it make her ache? All wet and needy when he hadn’t said more than a few words? She could figure it out later. After she’d stripped him bare. Felt all that power moving inside her.
Six lifted his hands—cupped her face. Held her still as he ravaged her mouth. Tipping her head back then making his way down her neck. Teasing the sensitive spot behind her ear. Sucking at her skin. Heat seared beneath her flesh, through her core—so close to cresting, again—when he stopped. Did that weird glance over his shoulder, again.
Was he muttering under his breath? Moving back? Had he actually changed his mind, this time? Had she not lived up to the fantasy? Because he’d exceeded hers.
A curse, then his forehead resting on hers. His chest heaving against her. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill Cannon.”
Kill? Cannon?
She went to question him when she heard it. Knocking on the door. A voice calling out their names. Had Six sensed the other man coming back? Is that why he’d kept looking over his shoulder?
He traced his thumb along her lips, waiting until she stared up at him. “God, you’re beautiful.”
That had her moving. Tugging his head back down. Taking his mouth, again, because she needed him. Kissing her. Touching her. Breathing for her. Six answered in kind, tracing every inch before grunting then easing back. He clenched his jaw, that lethal look back in his eyes.
She closed hers as he brushed his mouth across her forehead, still holding her close. “Six…Casey…”
“Fuck. If you say my name like that, again, Cannon is going to get an eyeful once he breaks that damn door down.” Six took a small step back. “And he will. Break it down.”
More banging. Six’s name sounding in th
e other room.
Six inhaled, held it, then slowly exhaled, dragging his palms along her cheeks before finally letting go—moving back. Far enough she’d have to step to reach him. Touch him.
He motioned to the shower. “Why don’t you freshen up?” A laugh. “Wash off that glitter. Lance had a buddy of his staking out our other motel room, just in case. But it should be safe enough, now, to dart over—see if they left anything behind. And I had the hotel clean your clothes from yesterday. I’ll have Jericho drop them inside for you.”
He headed for the door, stopping at the threshold. He glanced back at her. “Just so you know, what happened in here isn’t close to being over. So, I suggest you decide if or how you want it to end, next time, because I promise you—there will be a next time…Mrs. O’Reilly.”
Mrs. O’Reilly.
Christ. This was far more than she’d bargained for. Than she was prepared for because those two words had her knees buckling. Had her sinking to the floor as voices sounded beyond the door. The one Six had closed on his way out. The only thing separating her from darting after him—tackling him to the floor and demanding he finish what he’d started. Ease the gnawing ache between her legs.
She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not with Cannon and Jericho in the room. Maybe even if they hadn’t been there because it was all too fresh. Too raw. She needed to analyze it. Work through the possible outcomes. Gage which one would cause her the least amount of pain.
Not physical, though, based on how wildly her heart was pounding, it might just explode if Six decided he was wrong. That he didn’t want a “next time.”
Kam cursed, letting her head fall back against the wall. Obviously, she didn’t need to think things through. Look at her options because there was only one. Had only ever been one choice. She was crazy about the guy. Had been for months. She wouldn’t label it love—not with everything upside down. Their lives legally joined by an act of self-preservation. But refusing to say it didn’t change the reality. Make it false.
Instead, she scrambled to her feet and stepped over to the shower. A few twists of the taps and steam billowed out of the glass doors. The soft tinkling sound easing some of her pent-up tension. It only took a minute to strip out of the shirt—Six’s shirt—grab a couple of towels, some complimentary shampoo, conditioner and soap, and step inside. Let the warm water cascade along her skin—wash away the remnants of last night.
She stared at the floor, watching the tiny specks of glitter circle the drain then disappear. Hoping it wasn’t a premonition of how the future was going to play out. Not the marriage. This unknown element she had with Six. Though, that was definitely on her mind. A constant soundtrack playing in the back of her head. She meant her life. His. Literally. She didn’t know who was after her or why, but if Roger McCormick was involved…
Then, she’d just placed everyone she cared about in the crosshairs. Kam knew Jericho’s uncle—Admiral Jonathan Hastings, or Jack to his family and friends—had essentially threatened the CIA. Promised to release sensitive material if anything suspicious happened to Ellis or Colt. If McCormick decided to have them killed. But Kam wasn’t part of that deal. Nor was Six. Which meant open season on both of them. Maybe even Cannon and Jericho if they got in the way. The rest of the guys Cannon had working for them. Even that Brady guy who’d stitched Six up—Brady’s buddy Gibson—could get caught up in the fray if she didn’t get her head out of her ass and figure this out.
Or maybe she needed to get it down out of the clouds. The dreamland she was floating in whenever she was close to Six. All he had to do was look her way—touch her, even casually—and she lost focus. Was more concerned with the sound of his voice or how his fingers felt against her skin, to worry about missions. About favorable outcomes. If she was unknowingly surrendering to him by leaning on him.
And god, had she leaned into him. Seeing those photos, knowing someone had been shadowing her—and Six—had sluiced ice through her veins. But seeing that picture of the truck. Of the all the men who’d been killed just hours later…
It had flashed her back to that day. The smell of propellant and burnt flesh. The humming of the tires as they’d kept spinning, the black color like a smear of death against the pale blue sky. The hand that had been sitting in her lap—she never had discovered whose it was. Hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask.
Everything had smothered her. Threatened to drop her to the floor until Six had wrapped his arms around her. Brought her back. And she hadn’t been able to pull herself away after that. Had needed his strength to stay calm. Look the others in the eyes as she’d relived just a fraction of that day.
She didn’t want to remember it. To talk about it. Had avoided it up until now. But if there was the slightest chance that last night’s abduction involved her time in Military Intelligence—involved that attack—she owed it to those brave men to unearth the truth. Even if it hurt. Stripped her bare. Exposed her in her most vulnerable state.
A creak then a swirl of air. Footsteps across the short expanse of space. “Kam?”
Jericho.
Kam turned, cracked the glass door open.
Jericho held up a hand full of clothes. “I’ll leave these on the counter for you. Take all the time you need. Six went to check out that other motel suite. I sent Cannon with him—to be safe. And Lance just called. Said he’d be another twenty to thirty minutes, so…there’s no rush.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I’ll be that long.”
Jericho smiled. “Trust me. Having gotten married in Vegas not that long ago, I know how hard it is to get rid of all that glitter. I swear I’m still finding it all over the loft.”
Kam snorted. At least Jericho remembered her wedding.
Jericho sighed, placed the clothes on the counter then turned. Like Six, she stopped in the doorway, staring back at Kam amidst the steam. “Look, I know you and Six didn’t plan on getting married. That it was the very definition of a Hail Mary, but… I’ve gotten to know Six pretty well, and for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen the man happier than he was today. Standing there. Holding you. And don’t think for a second that it was strictly circumstantial. That you needed the support. He wanted to give it to you because he cares.”
“Caring and being married aren’t exactly equal.”
“Nope, but it’s one hell of a great start.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Six might not want to get our marriage annulled? Because that’s what it sounds like.”
“What I’m saying is…sometimes things happen for a reason. We don’t always know what that reason is at the time, but when we look back later? We realize it was fate.”
“Then, fate has a pretty warped sense of humor.”
Jericho laughed. “That she does. Give me a shout if you need anything.”
She turned, took another step, then stopped again, only shifting her head, this time. “Oh and Kam?”
Kam froze, the glass door only a sliver of the way still open. “Yeah?”
“Today was the happiest I’ve seen you since you joined us, too. You might want to ask yourself why before you make any…hasty decisions. See you in a bit.”
Kam stared at the closed door, Jericho’s words washing over her like the water. Kam had been happy today. A fact the others had picked up on. She only hoped it wasn’t short-lived. That she wasn’t the reason neither her nor Six lived to celebrate the date. Because something evil was brewing around them. And she was at the center of the storm.
Chapter Nine
“Great.” Six walked out of the bedroom, more than a bit frustrated. “The bastards took our weapons.”
“Well, at least they didn’t ruin your truck.” Cannon nudged his shoulder. “Or take anything else they ripped out of your pockets. Seems odd they took the time to bring you in here—search you, first. Can’t help but wonder if they were looking for something. Maybe they thought Kam had whatever intel they’re after on her, but when they couldn’t find anything, they upped the ante to
kidnapping. Whatever the reason, you got lucky, buddy. They could have capped you, right here.”
Six fisted his hands as he and Cannon stood in the middle of the room Six had rented the night before. The one where he’d spent the time lying on the floor. Bound. Completely incapacitated. He didn’t remember much. Just a few murky images of Kam positioned on top of him. Men lurking in the shadows.
And Cannon was right. Six had gotten insanely lucky. If those assholes had decided to kill him from the start like Cannon had said, Kam could be halfway around the world, by now, tied up in some cell. Or worse…
No. Six wasn’t going to go there. Entertain that line of thinking because those men hadn’t killed him when they’d had the chance, and he’d capitalized on that. Escaped. And now that he knew people were shadowing Kam—were actively hunting her—he wasn’t going to let his guard down for a second. Would make sure his team had his back because Six wasn’t going to lose her. Not before and definitely not after their kiss. The one he couldn’t stop replaying inside his head. That he needed to shove in a box and lock away until later because now was not the time to daydream. To picture how their encounter could have ended. Would have if Cannon hadn’t interrupted them.
Especially since the interruption just gave him more time to think—to wonder if Kam was looking for more than just a short-term fling. He was. Knew that taking her to bed wasn’t going to be a quick screw followed by an equally quick goodbye. Like most of the women he’d slept with. One-offs to scratch an itch. Partners who wanted the same thing Six did—a good time. A release. He made sure he treated any lover with respect. That he left her satisfied. Hopefully without regrets. But he’d never really had anyone special.
Unlike Colt, Six’s lack of substantial relationships didn’t stem from heartbreak. From some rule he’d made to protect his heart. It was a by-product of his gift—or curse when it came to women. Getting a glimpse of the future while in a lover’s bed wasn’t always a good thing. Not when it involved seeing how it was all going to end. The inevitable crash and burn. He wasn’t sure why any relationship-centered time leaks were different. Weren’t simply a few seconds of warning like the rest. But he’d come to accept them for what they were—far-reaching premonitions. And, until last night, he hadn’t found an exception to the rule where women were concerned. Hadn’t been with a lady, yet, who had envisioned more than a passing affair with him.