“I wonder why.” She rubbed her hands over her arms as her teeth started to tap together.
His gaze fell to her lips then traveled back to her eyes. “Let’s make a deal.”
“No.” The knee-jerk response came out before she could stop it.
“So prickly.”
“Do you blame me?” She’d been run out of her job and made the fall guy for a rogue CIA operation that eventually uncovered a spy within the agency. Never mind that she resolved everything or that her team pushed through, with some of them losing their lives, and found the mole despite claims from agency higher-ups that none existed.
He nodded. “You’ve had more than a fair share of bullshit thrown your way.”
“Understatement.” Her crime had been simple in the eyes of her superiors. She’d exposed blind spots in the agency. She’d refused to take no for an answer when she knew she was right. She’d stuck up for the sole surviving members of her team and made a deal to spare their lives in exchange for her leaving her job and not exposing systematic flaws within the agency. In return, she got manhandled, drugged, and now had to hide just in case someone at the CIA decided she might not keep her mouth shut and needed to be eliminated.
Gabe exhaled. “I can’t fix what you’ve been through, but I can give you some peace of mind.”
For some reason that made her more skeptical, not less. “If you say so.”
“I won’t touch you without your permission.” He lowered his head until he leveled that intense stare right at her eyes. “Ever.”
“You’re touching me now.”
He held up his hands. “My job is to protect you. Nothing else will happen.”
“Damn right.”
“Kick me in the balls if I try.” He stood up, pretty much jumped to his feet without making a sound, and held out a hand, letting it hover in front of her face. “You hold the power over what happens between us.”
“I agree.”
“Us, not how I protect you.”
He still didn’t get the churning inside her, that drive to run and not depend on someone else. She’d been trained for this, damn it. The idea of having a full-time bodyguard made her twitchy. Made it more likely that she’d end up looking to protect him than to keep herself safe. “I need to leave.”
He exhaled as he shot her one of those you’re-working-on-my-nerves frowns he excelled at throwing her way. “And go where?”
Seeing no reason to play the martyr, she grabbed his hand and struggled to her feet as numbness threatened to overtake her. “Hell if I know.”
This time he did smile. Shot her a wide and sexy grin. “That’s what I like about you, Natalie.”
That look had her spinning. Whatever was dancing around in her stomach better be the flu. “What?”
“You’re not stupid.”
Smart of him to notice. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
“And sexy as hell.”
Now that was a problem. If she let her mind wander for one second she thought about climbing all over him. The need pounding through her could not be mutual. She could fight off her own attraction, but not his as well. Sex on the run, in the midst of gunfire and danger, sounded dumb. Like a one-way ticket to checking out of this world for good.
“Imagine me shooting you. That should kill the mood.” She glanced around, trying to believe she lost touch with her weapon for even a second, or that she only had one.
He slipped the gun out of where he had it tucked into his belt and handed it to her. “You’d think, but no.”
“You’re a sick man.” And by that she meant hot enough to have her common sense blinking out.
“Probably.” He nodded toward the cabin. “Let’s go.”
Her defenses rose. “That sounds like an order.”
He shifted his weight and leaned in closer. “You can either get in there, strip off your wet clothes and shower, or I’ll do it for you.”
Something hard clunked to a halt inside her. Her heart . . . lungs. Likely something she needed to keep moving. But she couldn’t deny the shocking cold or how her mind moved a click or two slower than usual. How instead of talking and standing around, she should be running, but her muscles betrayed her.
“And now threats.” She forced the words out over the rush of blood whooshing in her ears and the sudden shaking in her knees.
Those dark eyes gleamed. “Consider it a promise of things to come.”
For a second she thought about taking her chances in the cold and snow. Seemed safer. “Be careful what you wish for.”
That smile of his came whipping back. “Challenge accepted.”
THREE
Gabe got her back inside without strangling her. He had to win some sort of prize for that restraint. That and for not kissing her, because he sure as hell wanted to, almost did. Now came the ultimate test . . . keeping his mind on the job and off her.
He reset the trap that guaranteed he’d know if someone ventured past his outer line of defense to the porch. Then he locked the door. Spinning around, he came face-to-face with Natalie. This close, he could see shivers race through her and hear her teeth click together.
Her eyes clouded with a telltale haze and she headed for the wood-burning stove along the far wall. All that did was give him a front row seat to that ass. Not that he could take any time to enjoy the view. Not with her in this condition. She looked ten seconds away from a hypothermic coma. Which was weird since his skin was on fire. Just trying to breathe made the walls of the tiny cabin close in.
Other than a threadbare love seat to his right and a small kitchenette running along the wall to his left, there wasn’t much else in the cabin. Except her. She was right there in the middle of the room, which put her about six feet away from him. Six short fucking feet.
He drew in a deep breath and fought for the well of control he normally took for granted. “Take your clothes off.”
She turned around nice and slow. The move had her flannel shirt gaping open to show off a peek of skin and the thin white T-shirt underneath. “If that’s your line, it needs work.”
“The order has more to do with not wanting you to freeze to death.” The way her nipples pressed against the tee had his gaze bouncing up and down her impressive body, but he forced his expression to stay blank.
She scoffed. “Nice of you to care.”
“I doubt I’d get paid if you died because you got cold.” And she was not dying on his watch. He forbid it. To help make that happen, he scooped a blanket off the love seat, thinking to wrap her in it after.
“Aren’t you practical?”
“To the bone.”
She glanced at the doorway to the bathroom. Doorway, no door. Not enough room for those in the small space. The person who built the place had the good sense to tuck the toilet around the corner for at least a shred of privacy, but the shower was right there. Right in the line of sight from the doorway. No curtain. No wall. Nothing.
She looked back at him. “You can wait outside.”
Tempting. If he didn’t worry she’d pass out and drown herself, he would. Maybe the fresh air would kick-start his common sense, but that would have to wait. “I’ll stay here.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m not going to run.”
“You’re right.” He doubted she’d take that risk. They shared some skills, and she had to know running meant jumping into one of the traps he’d set for the people who might come after her. “I wouldn’t let you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this some sort of play for control? Like you’re trying to break me or something? Because you can’t. Others have tried and failed.”
Interesting. The assessing gaze. The stiff body stance, which said she’d closed the door on listening to reason. He suddenly knew what it must have felt like to work for her. She didn’t take any shit. A good philosophy and one he shared, but now he needed her to just obey and make his life easier. “Stop with the modesty. This is about getting you into a shower and
warm again.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the open doorway then back again. “You think I’m embarrassed to get naked in front of you?”
“I don’t know why you would be.” He assumed she’d had sex before. A woman didn’t look like that, go through life with that confidence, without enjoying some pretty hot and heavy hours in the sack. At least he hoped so for her sake. She deserved good sex. Hell, everyone did as far as he was concerned.
He didn’t buy into the whole idea of a strong woman automatically being cold in bed. That struck him as television bullshit nonsense. Weak didn’t interest him. She did, and he hoped like hell she liked it dirty because he did, and they would get there . . . eventually.
Before he could say anything else, she dropped her arms. Those long fingers went to the remaining buttons on the flannel shirt. In less than a second, she had the shirt open and off her shoulders. Dropping it on the floor, she reached for the hem of the tee and that slipped over her head next.
“There.” She stood with her arms out, wearing only a bra.
Full, high breasts. A collarbone he ached to kiss. He blocked it all even as his insides started to tighten in anticipation. “Your skin is red.”
“What?” She glanced down as a shiver overtook her.
The longer she stood there, the more her words slurred. What started as a slight hesitation in her voice outside and a haze over her eyes turned scary as she grew more disoriented now. The unusually brutal temperatures for this early in the winter, dipping well below freezing, the harsh wind and the thin layer of wet clothes combined to steal her body heat.
Normally, she’d be fine. She had the training and her time in the elements had been limited. But the drugs he’d used on her turned everything upside down. Robbed her of the ability to adjust. She’d been on a downhill slide from the second she stepped outside.
He should have hustled her back inside sooner. That was on him. His fuck-up.
Enough talking. “Damn it, get in there before you pass out on me.”
Giving her a choice hadn’t worked so far, so he didn’t try now. With a hand under her elbow, he half guided and half pushed her toward the bathroom. Thanks to the homemade off-the-grid water heater in there, she had a chance. He turned the handle so the shower came on and the water started to warm.
“Everything off.” When she just stood there with a dazed look on her face, he dropped the blanket on the corner of the makeshift sink and took over. “Lean on me.”
Dropping to a knee on the floor, he got her boots untied and off. Her hand landed on his shoulder as she struggled for balance. When he felt the chill pouring off her and seeping into him, he moved even faster. His hands brushed over her and his fingers flew. Tugged on the button at the top of her jeans and skimmed the material and her practical cotton briefs down her legs, revealing inch after inch of pinkish-red flesh.
He tested the water one more time before slipping the straps of her bra off her shoulders. The fact that she didn’t fight or insist she could handle it told him how bad off she was.
She glanced up at him with eyes clouded with a deadly haze. “That won’t—”
“In.” One hand at the base of her back, he shoved, not even trying to be gentle. He needed her under the water.
“Argh—” Her shout cut off and her mouth dropped open as the spray hit her skin.
She tried to turn away, to shift back, but he held her there. “Yeah, it’s going to sting.”
“This isn’t frostbite.”
“No.” Probably not even frostnip, but now wasn’t the time to talk technical terms.
She started shaking hard enough for her heels to thump against the floor of the old tub. “I’m still freezing.”
He could barely hear her as her jaw rattled and knew he’d fucked up this timing. Ignoring the cold and her body and every other signal that this had been a piss-poor idea, he stepped in next to her. The second his shoe hit the tub bottom, she turned. Her fingers curled into his wet shirt as she buried her face in his neck.
“There you go.” The position let him maneuver her closer to the spray. With his arms wrapped around her, he pushed her back, submerging them both in the spray. He rubbed his palms over her. Whispered into her hair. He didn’t even know what he said, but the mumbling had her clenched muscles relaxing and her body falling deeper against his.
Another few seconds and her body warmed. Then he hit the tipping point. When the touching went from saving to savoring. When he stopped worrying about her breathing and struggled to control his own. Her body, all lean muscles and sexy curves, fit against him as he knew it would. The slow, sensual torture as she blew soft puffs of air against his throat confirmed one thing he knew before the private plane had taken off to bring them here—he was fucked. That was the only explanation for breaking into a sweat in these temperatures.
He cleared his throat and inched back so he could look into her eyes. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
The haze had gone, and something else replaced it. Something he couldn’t think about for more than two seconds or he’d be rationalizing how fucking her could warm her right up.
He waited until she nodded to drop his hands and reached around her to shut off the water. The brush of his arm across her ass was pure accident but pretty damn great. “Good to hear it.”
Her fingers relaxed against his shirt, but she didn’t let go as she glanced down between their bodies. Focused on the bulge in his wet and confining jeans. “Is that still nothing but harmless reaction?”
“Depends on how you define ‘harmless,’ but yeah.” The bigger worry was that he’d be in this state until he delivered her back to civilization.
What qualified as worse than being fucked? He was that.
• • •
She tried to swallow as he moved away from her. She’d been cold, too cold, and every action he took made sense. Brought her back to sanity faster. Even now her mind clicked into gear. Reality crashed into her right after.
Big, sturdy, commanding and so rough around the edges—she wanted it all. They’d met back before she left the CIA. Him hovering at the fringes of her life. The limited space between them had taken a toll.
Blame the adrenaline rush or the blanket of danger she’d been under for so long, but she wanted this—him. For her. Not pretty, not a commitment, not even a date. Just hot, out-of-control sex. Abandon her hang-ups and forget everything sex. Get-lost-in-him sex.
But it couldn’t happen, or so she kept repeating in her head, hoping her body would catch up to her brain. Not if they were stuck out here, always on watch. Not if he saw her as a job. She had to rein in the need pumping through her and find a kick of self-preservation or she’d be crawling all over him.
She was about to point out that the whole cold, wet clothes thing had been his fault when he started to strip. Stood right in front of the sink and peeled the wet shirt off. Dropped it to the floor and let it slap against the hardwood. Then he reached for the Henley underneath and pulled it up, revealing miles of broad back with muscles carved into every inch.
Like everything else about him, his back, all that skin, wasn’t perfect and pretty. Faint white scars marked his upper back as if he’d been lashed. A jagged line stretched along the right side of his back and disappeared around to his front. Likely from a knife. The wounds of a warrior. Of the man who went in first, took on the most dangerous jobs.
The ripping sound of a zipper cut through the room and her mental inventory. He shifted his hips, then the wet jeans dropped, taking a tight pair of gray boxer briefs with them. Her gaze slipped from the dip in the small of his back, down his ass cheeks, so round and firm. No fat, just perfectly formed and muscled.
His shoulders stiffened for a second then fell again. “I don’t care if you look.”
That comment had her fumbling as she reached for the closest towels, and not from the cold this time. She wrapped one around her chest and folded the end against her skin for a snug fit. Tucked h
er wet hair up in the other.
Somewhat dressed and feeling a bit more sturdy on her feet, she tackled the bigger issue. “This isn’t going to work.”
The door to the cabinet under the sink slammed as he reached for a towel. They’d somehow managed to use three of the total four available in a five-minute span. Still, him with a towel balanced on those hips, turned away from her, showing off that broad back and the outline of every muscle, proved potent enough. Naked and facing her might cause her to make a humiliating scene.
Which brought her right back to the topic he seemed to be ignoring. “We are never going to last a week.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair, smoothing down the stray strands. “We get along fine.”
She meant without having sex, but she took the easy out. “You know I’m trained. We both know sitting here waiting to get shot at or blown up is stupid.”
“Neither of those things is going to happen.”
She had no intention of letting either of them get injured, but that wasn’t really the point. It was one of tactics and strategy. “I should be moving every day or two as I zigzag my way from here to nowhere in particular.”
Still he didn’t face her. “We’re done with this argument.”
“So if someone fires a grenade launcher—”
He spun around, those dark eyes snapping with fury. “I’ll know before they try. If for some reason I don’t, I will push you to safety.”
Anger zipped through him. She could see it in every stiff line of his body. In the tiny lines at the corners of his mouth where his lips had thinned into a grim slash. No question about it. He would sacrifice his life for hers without even blinking. She got that but she didn’t like it.
Ever since the whole CIA mess with her backing her team against her CIA superiors and landing on their target list, she’d been shoved into a position of accepting gratitude and help from other people. Bast acted as her lawyer, even when she didn’t want one. Hired Gabe when she’d said no. “I don’t remember agreeing that you’re the boss on this gig.”
“Humor me.”
She picked up the blanket sitting on the edge of the sink, unsure how it even got there, and slipped it around her shoulders. “Fine. Since my plan was to go on the run by myself, not drag anyone else into potential danger, why don’t you tell me your plan.”
Mine Page 3