Skin Dive

by Ava Gray

  Out in the cold, Taye took several deep, calming breaths. The urge to set something on fire faded. She wants to work for Mockingbird. The very idea enraged him. He wanted to see her safe, not risking herself against the Foundation as part of some counterwar. Why the hell did their agents all have bird names anyway?

  When he closed his eyes, he could still see how Gillie looked, clad in nothing but a pair of pink panties. Her skin was so fucking—

  Stop, he told himself. Don’t remember.

  But he couldn’t drive the image out of his head. He hadn’t been with a woman in . . . well. Taye couldn’t recall. Presumably there had been some. Maybe many. But right now, he could only find the memory of one he couldn’t have.

  A knot formed in his stomach. Sooner or later, she would meet someone else. Given how beautiful she was, it would be sooner, inevitably. She just needed a new life. If he stayed focused, he could open that door and carry the mental picture of her walking through it toward hope. Walking away from him.

  No. Even if he felt like losing her would kill him, he couldn’t fixate on that now. One step at a time. Six missions—that was the deal. And in exchange for his blood, they’d liberate Gillie from her tormentors. He could do this, no matter how it turned out for him. Guys like him never ended up well anyway. This, then, was the best he could do.

  In keeping with his mood, the sky hung heavy overhead like a blood-filled bruise. Night fell fast in winter. As he paced, the shadows lengthened and snow drifted down, swirling in the icy wind. Reasonably he couldn’t expect their contact to arrive before morning tomorrow, which meant he was alone in the middle of nowhere with Gillie. That didn’t bode well, considering how much he wanted her, and how good she had gotten at goading him.

  But surely he could make it through the next twelve hours without losing his mind or his self-control. They were safe here, at least. No neighbors to report on their movements. She preferred the city; after her long isolation, she loved being surrounded by people and noise. He had no doubt she found it comforting, which meant she wouldn’t like this spot one bit. Her nerves would be on edge, and he couldn’t leave her alone to listen to the silence.

  Sighing, he squared his shoulders and went back inside. He found Gillie eating at the table by herself. The kitchen was a bright room compared to the rest of the house, faded yellow curtains and gold tiles. She had filled a bowl for him and brewed a cup of tea as well. Quietly thoughtful—she’d known he would linger in the cold to get his head straight, letting the weather take the edge off his temper. Taye wasn’t displaying any particular grace in dealing with the prospect of his own demise. Maybe it would be easier if he shared the burden with her.

  But he couldn’t.

  So he dropped onto the chair and refused to meet her eyes. “I know you aren’t thrilled with this.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the best of a bad lot. You should eat.”

  Refusing wouldn’t accomplish anything except to make her more suspicious, but it hurt him to shovel it down these days. Still, he had to try. So he took a few bites. He needed to stay strong as long as possible and hide what was happening beneath the skin. And the food was good, considering what she’d had to work with.

  “Thanks.”

  Outside, the snow fell fast and furious, deepening by the minute. Gillie followed his gaze. “Are we likely to be snowed in?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Taye could think of worse fates than a delay on his first mission and having her all to himself, possibly for the last time. Unfortunately, it would also test his resolve, which wasn’t made of steel. No matter how many times he told himself she wasn’t meant for him, his body didn’t believe it. In his darkest moments, he asked what it could hurt. But the answer was simple—it would hurt Gillie. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man leased for a month or two.

  “Can you tell me anything more about how they operate?” No point in asking who she meant. “Mockingbird serves as the hub. He coordinates all the agents in the field and he sends them on missions. Generally, they work solo, though there are special exceptions. The type of mission varies according to the agent’s skill set.”

  “Then they’d send you on black-ops type stuff,” she guessed. He’d forgotten how much she’d learned watching TV. Uncomfortable, he gave a curt nod, hoping to discourage further questions. He didn’t want her seeing the blood on his hands.

  “Does it bother you?” Her blue eyes looked like summer, hot, lazy days where the sky was so blue it hurt to gaze up into the cloudless expanse. Sometimes he thought he saw angels in her aspect, so fierce and pure that it might be enough to burn him clean.

  Other men had memories of their childhood, of school vacations and camp and youthful mischief. They recalled their parents and their birthplace, the house where they’d lived. But no matter how deep he dug, his first memory sprang from a dark place. Two men: one weeping, the other striking repeatedly. The sound of fist meeting flesh made a distinctive sound. And there was red neon. It wasn’t raining, but it had been. The pavement was wet, oil-slicked rainbows sparkling in the dark. The crimson flashed on and on, in tempo with the beating. He had no attachment to the memory. Taye didn’t know if he’d been the man on the ground moaning in agony, or the one delivering the pain.

  “Killing?” He couldn’t lie to her, not even if it made her flinch from him in disgust. “No. In fact, each time, I like it a little more.” Naked admission. He might possess a human exterior but inner darkness had turned him into something else.

  To his surprise, she gave a jerky nod, her pretty face sharp with anger. “I struggle with it. Part of me likes watching them die. Likes seeing them pay for what they’ve done. When you call the lightning, I feel very Old Testament inside. Then a little voice reminds me they’re still people. That their families love them. Yet the hate’s part of me now . . . I can’t help it. And I want them to pay.”

  “I didn’t realize,” he said, startled.

  Her pretty face held a ferocity he didn’t associate with her. Clearly, he should.

  “You think you know everything about me, but you don’t. You make assumptions, but you never talk to me long enough to find out whether they’re true.”

  “I’m afraid of getting too close to you.” Gillie drew the truth out of him, and that meant he had to be wary of her.

  She smiled, but pain shadowed her eyes. “I know. Is it because you think I’m breakable?”

  “What you went through would’ve destroyed most people.” Taye shook his head. “You’ve been a fucking prisoner for years, and you’re still not free. Do you even understand why it’s so important that I do this for you?” His voice cracked.

  How humiliating. He was supposed to be this badass who could protect her, but he couldn’t check his own feelings. It was getting harder to stand apart, present but uninvolved. God knew, it would take a stronger man than him to remain indifferent to Gillie Flynn.

  “I think it’s because you feel like helping me will settle your account somehow.”

  Maybe so. Though he’d never thought of it in those terms, he decided she was right. In the back of his mind, he saw her salvation as the one selfless thing he could do. If he took anything from her, even physical affection, then his efforts lost all altruistic merit.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  She propped her chin on her palm. “I want to work with the homeless.”

  The seeming non sequitur surprised him. “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do, if we ever get clear . . . and I want to open a shelter. Teach classes. Provide help and counseling for those struggling with addiction.”

  “For God’s sake, why?” That wasn’t what he envisioned for her at all . . . not that it was his decision. But he’d imagined a sweeter and more wholesome ending; he hated to think of Gillie spending her life surrounded by human garbage.

  “Because of you. Because the lost need to be found.”

  An ache bloomed in his chest. Sett
ing down his fork, he curled his hands into fists and rested them on his thighs to keep from reaching for her. With only her soft voice, she peeled him down to the raw places. Just a little longer, he told himself. Tanager will arrive tomorrow and you’ll leave Gillie in her care when you receive your first mission. Yet he had seen to her safety for months now; relinquishing that charge brought him no joy.

  Right then, he ought to say, Don’t build your life around me. But the words wouldn’t come. His desires were too diametrically opposed to his moral sense. So he merely gazed at her over the length of the table, unable to speak, unable to break free from the snare of her gaze.

  She rose. If she touched him, he was lost. He had no more reserves, no more willpower. The reasons why not felt a million miles away. Instead, as if she sensed his weakness, she brushed past. Her steps retreated up the stairs and down toward the bathroom on the second floor. He felt as though he had been given a reprieve from an inevitable conflict. The water started, groaning in the elderly pipes.

  This was a different kind of cruelty. Now he had to imagine water sluicing down her fair skin, beading on her breasts. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned how she looked with her head tipped back, hair wine dark and tangling about her throat. God, she was gorgeous, the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and sheer need maddened him.

  His hands shook as he rose to clear the table. He stuck the macaroni in the refrigerator and tried to calm himself via mundane tasks. It didn’t help. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans as he stared out the kitchen window at the falling snow. Through his blurred reflection, the night glowed in a study in contrasts, moonless sky and field of white, like an old Ingmar Bergman movie. He didn’t know how long he stood gazing out, but her voice startled him.

  “Could you look at this?”

  He turned reflexively, and swallowed a groan. Gillie stood dripping on the kitchen tile. Her bare feet were pink. His gaze traveled upward, devouring slim ankles, shapely calves, and deliciously inviting thighs. The towel hid nothing of her elegant curves. She looked almost as sexy after the shower as he’d imagined she would be beneath the curtain of water.

  “At what?” Surely she didn’t just mean to tease him.

  “It’s sore where they shot me.” She indicated the back of her shoulder.

  Ah. The tranq dart. Good to know she wasn’t pointlessly cruel. “Come here.”

  She padded toward him and then spun, holding her damp hair aside, so he could assess the damage. The site was puffy with light contusions from the impact, but he didn’t think the puncture showed signs of infection. She had delicate skin, which meant she bruised easier than most. When her gaze met his over the slope of her shoulder, his whole body surged in response.

  “How bad is it?”

  “You’ll be fine. It’ll take a day or two to heal.”

  Walk away now. Go put on some clothes. She wasn’t stupid; far from it. So she had to sense his desperation. She must realize how hard it was to live with her, day after day, looking but not touching. For the past month, he’d woken in a hot fever, cock straining. Once he’d even tried to sate the urge with a girl from McGinty’s, but he couldn’t drum up the desire. Gillie would doubtless be delighted to learn she’d bewitched him and rendered him impotent. If he was a lock, she held his key.

  “Thanks.”

  She turned then, just as he withdrew his hand from her shoulder. He didn’t plan it; God knew he had no desire to torture himself. But Taye caught the towel and it pulled free, wafting to the floor. He had his first look at her fully bared body, and it hit him like a sledgehammer in the gut. Christ, he’d never seen anything as lovely as the sweet flare of her hips. And that ass—

  No, don’t turn around. But she did. His breath went in a rush and Taye stared at her in dumb fascination. He felt like a teenaged boy confronted with his first naked woman. There must have been others, but he could recall only her with that cream and rose-petal skin, the smooth indent of her waist, and the coppery curls at the lee of her legs. And her breasts . . . so pert and pretty, rising and falling with each breath. The berry nipples firmed as he drank her in.

  He might have managed not to touch her if only he hadn’t looked at her face. But one glimpse of those wide eyes and parted lips, and Taye lost the battle. In her he saw echoed hunger, and the fear that he would not find her pleasing.

  She had kissed him before, a clumsy caress that left him reeling with pleasure. He’d kissed her at McGinty’s to get the bastards to leave her alone. This time it would be different. He snared her hand and spun her into his arms. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with fierce longing; he parted them with a single movement and then touched his tongue to hers. She whimpered, a sound full of innocence and curiosity. It set him on fire.

  Naked in his arms, she was utterly at his mercy. Conversely, he was determined not to take this too far. Nothing irrevocable. Delight consumed him, as he realized nobody had ever touched her like this, smoothed a hand down the graceful slope of her back or cupped her heart-shaped ass. In this, he could give without taking.

  Gillie writhed against him, falling into the kiss with a passion that made the top of his head tingle. She followed his lead, press and taste, slide and thrust, until their bodies echoed their mouths, straining together. He fell back a step, and she cried out in protest.

  “Not again. Not this time.”

  He soothed her with little caresses and kisses, edging her with his body back toward the sink. In a smooth motion, he lifted her and she splayed her knees unselfconsciously. In that moment, she was a creature of fire and silk, burning for him endlessly. Taye knelt, paying homage with featherlight kisses dusted on the inner curve of her thighs. That didn’t shock her. Instead her eyes turned sultry, dropping to half-lidded expectation, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. He smiled as he inched upward, teasing her with teeth and tongue.

  “You have to tell me what you want before you get it.”

  Though he half expected shyness, she answered with bold confidence. “Lick me, Taye. Suck on my clit. Put your finger in me and play with me until I come.”

  Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought. Maybe she was right. She didn’t use the dirtiest words, but this was all new to her. For someone who had never been touched before, it was an impressive showing. She wasn’t a demure little virgin—and that turned him on fiercely.

  “Your wish is my command,” he growled.

  But she wasn’t prepared for the heat of his mouth; he could tell by the way she jerked, eyes widening, and then her hands tightened in his hair. Her hips shifted in restless, seeking surges. He licked her in slow strokes, denying her a fast release. He wanted her sobbing and screaming before he was done. If I can’t keep you, sweet girl, then I’ll give you a memory that’ll stay with you always.

  She tasted so fucking good, fresh and clean, with a hint of musky sweetness. Taye did precisely as she asked, kissing and nuzzling, using his fingers and his lips to drive her ever higher. Her encouraging words melted into incoherent sounds and then sobbing pleas. He eased a single finger inside her; she was astonishingly small. Imagining her pussy wrapped snugly around his cock almost made him come in his pants. She didn’t react as if it hurt her. But nobody had ever touched her. That electrified him on a primitive level.

  He worked her body with ruthless expertise, muscle memory filling in what his mind had lost. She arched and sobbed, contracting on his finger as he sipped at her clit. Gillie wrapped her thighs around his head and bucked. It took most of his strength to keep her balanced on the counter. Taye nuzzled her through another orgasm before her pleasure sounds drifted toward pain. Then he dialed it down, little kisses and soothing touches to calm her nerves. She fell limp into his arms, eyes glazed with satiation and perfect trust.

  Words rose up inside him; he had spoken them to her before or some similar permutation. Don’t look at me like that. Not me.

  “Nothing for you?” she asked dreamily, curling into his arms. He smiled a
nd shook his head. Incredibly her delight dulled his own ache. It felt manageable, almost pleasurable, down at a low hum instead of that endless roar. She was the cool river that could slake his most dire thirst; he would like to lie down in her like a green valley and let his soul absorb her peace.

  “Not tonight.”

  Not ever. But she didn’t need to know that. It would only upset her, and he would like to spend this one night holding her. He could allow himself that much: scraps from the banquet. Perhaps it was selfish, but he’d earned this much of her.

  As the snow became a blinding curtain outside, Taye carried her toward the stairs.

  CHAPTER 9

  The routine snatch and grab had turned into a complete goatfuck. Cale had lost his whole team, trying to bring those two in alive. Now he was inclined to peg them both in the head when he caught up to them, but that wouldn’t get him the rest of his payday. The terms of the agreement were clear. He had to take them alive, if he wanted his other quarter mil. That was crazy money. Which was why he was starting to wish he’d passed.

  Over the years, he’d become selective about the jobs he accepted, no more grunt work, no more body dumps. He should’ve known this was too good to be true. It would’ve been nice if his freakish employer had seen fit to tell him just how creative the male target could be. The row of burning cars and all the subsequent explosions inspired his admiration; if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would’ve believed it. He had been forced to scramble before the cops showed up—and it’d been a long time since anyone got the best of him. This game had gotten boring, but the potential for catastrophic failure and death? That rendered the chase interesting. It was also the only reason he didn’t refund the Foundation’s money and say, To hell with this.

  He squatted in a condemned office building across the way, waiting for the heat to die down. But when the fires were out, and all the city personnel and insurance adjusters disappeared, he eased out of the structure and down the stairs. It was early afternoon, and he got a good look at the destruction. Impressive, really. No less than seven cars. Bits of them had been left behind when the city towed them away. The heat was such that it had scorched the pavement. Dirty snow mingled with the metal shards and seared plastic.