She looked up in thought. “In exchange for protection he’d provide the U.S. with the intel he had on every terrorist organization he’d ever worked for?”
“Yup.”
“That could be really useful. What happened?”
He thought about the failed exchange four weeks ago between the CIA operative Reggie Deeks and Odem Yilmaz, but he couldn’t share that much with her, even if the info was on the tip of his tongue. “One access code to the safe was provided, but he mentioned he also had a silent partner in all of this, and that partner had a code as well. To access the safe, both codes must be entered at the same time or else all the data will be lost.”
“Really? Sounds like a script I wrote last year and pitched to Hollywood. They turned it down, saying it wasn’t realistic enough.” Her lips twitched into a smile but quickly faded. “What happened next?” She sat up taller.
“That silent partner was his brother—Malik.”
He allowed the name to sit with her for a moment, so she could connect the dots. “That’s why Malik’s after you?”
“Yeah. Malik’s brother—Ender’s father—was killed before he could provide that information. The assumption is that Malik had him murdered to get the code.”
“The man who had me strip, it was his dad who’d made the deal and died?” She arched a brow.
“Yeah.”
“Why would he work with his uncle then? That seems strange to me.”
You and me both.
“How’d you get a hold of this guy’s code if he died?”
He heaved out a deep breath. “I managed to obtain it three weeks ago from the guy who killed him.”
“I assume our government still wants the contents of the safe. So, you need Malik, and he needs you.”
“Precisely.” He nodded, slightly baffled by the conversation he was having—with a civilian, of all people. A gorgeous woman from Hollywood.
“You used yourself as bait to try and get Malik to come for you so you could get his code.” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Why would Malik have his brother killed? Wouldn’t he need protection, too, for the same reason his brother did?”
“The story we’re working with is that Malik and Ender saw him as a traitor for making a deal with the U.S. even if his reasons were to stay alive—which is why he probably never gave his son the code.”
She dropped her hand and stood. “Sounds like you don’t believe that.”
He gave a half-hearted shrug.
“Hm. Well, was this Malik also on Interpol’s radar before all of this?”
His stomach tightened with regret. “No one knew about him.”
“That’s hard to believe.” She took a few tentative steps his way, focusing on his eyes as if searching for answers.
“Yeah, well, he’s a diplomat and has been living under our goddamn noses in Manhattan.”
“Oh, God.”
The reality was sinking in for her, and he scratched at his jaw, not sure what else to say.
“I can see why you’re so angry with me.”
“I’m just angry. Period,” he said in a low voice.
“I guess I really did screw everything up.” She dropped back onto the bed, and her palms covered her face.
He sat next to her. “We’ll make it work out. Don’t worry.” He’d get his target, but he wasn’t sure what the hell would happen to Eva once the dust settled. “Do you regret knowing all of this?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She rose and hooked her thumbs into her back pockets.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his thighs as he observed her, worried about the terror that clung to her face, wishing he could take back his words and keep her safe from the ugly world once more.
“I’ll fake it until I make it. That’s what I used to do when I was Everly.”
He stood. “And how’d that work out for you?”
Her lip briefly caught between her teeth. “Not so great, I suppose.”
He wrapped a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll get you through this.”
She nodded and headed for the door, her normal confident stride off.
“Don’t go,” he found himself sputtering unexpectedly, and a pair of hazel eyes met his from over her shoulder.
After a deep breath, he shook loose the swirl of desire that became hard and greedy in the pit of his stomach. Bad timing to want a woman after dropping such a bomb, but in his line of work, when was it a good time? “Let me help take your mind off everything.”
She pivoted all the way around. “You can wipe that cocky smile off your face.”
He laughed. “I was thinking maybe we could play a game.”
A chill must’ve swept down her spine because he noticed the slightest tremble in her shoulders at his words. “I’m talking chess, not strip poker.” Although he wouldn’t mind so much putting all of his cards on the table and making a couple of loose wagers that could end with his tongue in her sweet mouth again.
“Of course you’d want to play a game that involves strategy.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He smiled again, probably the “cocky smile” she’d called him out on moments ago.
Another step had his hand landing on his chest, the feel of his own heart pounding against his palm like the moment before he’d fast-rope out of a helo. “You want to play something a little friendlier? We can check out the office and see what they have.”
God, was he really offering to play a board game when all he wanted was to spend the next couple of hours making out like bad guys didn’t exist?
How’d he go from talking about terrorists to imagining himself deep inside of her? Being away from his team and out of the driver’s seat on an op—it was throwing him off.
“I guess I could use a distraction. I doubt I’m up for writing, anyway.”
“A distraction it is, then.” He just had to remind himself that sex could not be the distraction, even if it’d be the best possible one.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you frustratingly good at everything?” She restacked the playing cards and shuffled them as he smiled, his Pacific blues landing on hers, which had her breath catching, inducing a small cough.
“Pretty much.” He stretched one leg out and pulled his other knee closer to his chest. “Had to keep busy when deployed in between ops.”
“I’ll bet you were the master of Call of Duty.” A smirk stretched her lips at the image of him playing video games with a bunch of guys overseas.
He held one of the green tassels from the throw blanket they were sitting on in his hand, closing a fist around it. “More of a HALO fan. Word is I still have the best score of the game.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She started to deal the cards but paused before sliding him the last one. “What was your nickname? You had one, right?”
He dropped the tassel, and his body grew stiff.
Before she knew it, he’d stood and turned his back.
Shit. They’d been having a lighthearted conversation despite what she’d learned earlier, and now she’d probably spooked him by bringing up his so-called “classified” life.
Wine, a roaring fire, and packed bookshelves . . . she’d almost forgotten why they were secluded in the woods. Well, until now—until the moment a quietness seized hold of the room, leaving only the crackling sounds of the flames.
Luke’s fingers brushed across some of the thicker spines on one of the bookshelves, and he tipped one back and held it. “Skywalker.”
“Huh?” She released the cards, forgetting the game of Spades they’d been about to play, only able to focus on the way his muscles stretched the soft fabric of his long-sleeved tee.
“The guys liked to call me Skywalker.”
“You’re a Star Wars fan?”
“No, I’m not a sci-fi kind of guy, but during new-guy hazing, they duct-taped me to a chair and forced me to watch a few of the movies.”
A light laugh escaped her lips. “Must’ve been torture,” she teased and stood.
His shoulder blades pinched back as he reached for another book. “It was a nightmare, but the damn name stuck, whether I wanted it or not.”
“I’m sure you got payback at some point.”
“Of course,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder.
She folded her arms and tried to steal a glimpse at the new book he held. “Tolstoy?”
“What? I can’t appreciate Russian literature?” He placed War and Peace back in its place and faced her. Only a few inches of space separated them, and it wasn’t enough, especially when his eyes dipped down to her parted lips. “You’re not judging me again, are you?”
“I’m finally learning not to do that, Skywalker.” A tiny hint of a smile crept up her face as she envisioned him lounging in a chair with a glass of German wine in one hand and the pages of Tolstoy beneath his fingertips. This man made of steel had more sides to him than she could count, and each time she discovered a new one, her sense of desire to know even more heightened.
When his eyes breezed to hers she staggered back a step.
“I was a history major in college.”
“Meaning you had to read a lot?” She smiled.
He nodded, and a hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, and he angled his head, continuing to study her.
“My bachelor’s degree was in history, too.”
“I know.” He grinned.
“Right. I forgot.” Nerves tangled thick and hard in her chest before dropping into her stomach like the large ball at midnight on New Year’s Eve. A slow countdown and then—bam!—an explosion of energy lighting everything up. Yup, that was her right now. On fire with a sudden burst of desire to jump the man before her and unleash her stress onto him.
So, they’d only known each other for a couple of days—didn’t a near-death experience afford an unusual bond? Or was that only in the movies? Sometimes the line between reality and fiction became blurred.
“We have that in common, too, I suppose.” She turned, but at the feel of his hand on her forearm she stilled, and her eyes dropped closed.
“Tell me how else we’re alike,” he said.
The sexy gruffness in his voice had her inching into dangerous territory with flashing warning signs all over the place . . . but she didn’t want to take the detoured route or heed caution. She wanted to throw herself right into danger if it meant getting a second chance to feel his lips blazing a trail of heat over her skin again.
It was insane to be thinking about sex after she’d learned a terrorist wanted her, wasn’t it?
One thing was abundantly clear: no more boring Eva. No, the moment she’d received Luke’s request to rent her cabin, her life had taken a drastically new course.
“Well, neither of us can be in relationships,” she surmised.
“Why can’t you?” He didn’t lose his hold of her, even when she shifted to better view him.
Her eyes flicked skyward. “Busy with work.”
“You’re sure that’s the only reason?”
“Why would you ask that?” A queasy unease had her stomach tucking in. Could he see through her rickety walls so easily?
He angled his head when she nervously focused on him again. “You tell me.”
She wanted to pull away, to protect herself from the naked truth. But at the same time, she had a burning desire to release everything she’d held pent up inside for years, the weight of her name that pulled her under like the rough ocean currents.
“Eva, tell me what the dossier couldn’t.”
She swallowed the hard knot in her throat, noting the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and the strength of him, even though his touch on her forearm was featherlight.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
He continued to assess her with no change on his face, so she couldn’t really get a read on him. “Scared of what?”
She closed her eyes. “I’m afraid of divorce. Afraid of having multiple failed relationships, like my parents. Afraid of being used for my name and living a lie with someone because of it.”
At the feel of his touch on her face, her lids lifted, and his thumb made a small sweeping circle on her cheek.
“I want someone to love me for me, you know? Not for my family’s name and money. Not to land a role on one of my dad’s films.” She wet her lips, a touch of saltiness there. “But I didn’t think it through, did I?”
He palmed her entire cheek before his hand slid through her hair, holding the side of her head. “How so?”
“Because how can I ever start a relationship based on a lie?”
His eyes narrowed and dropped to her mouth for a brief moment, but he didn’t say anything.
“We’re both pretending to be other people, so we have that in common, too, I guess,” she said while trying to dodge the heavier emotions before they turned from a slow drip to a downpour.
His face hardened, and the slack in his jaw disappeared when he captured her eyes once again. “I’m not pretending with you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Me, either,” she said, almost breathlessly.
His forehead touched hers. “This thing between us doesn’t make sense, does it?”
She pressed her lips together and lifted her shoulders, but before she could respond, he leaned back to gather her face in his hands and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her.
Hard and almost punishing at first.
His mouth left hers for a brief moment, his lips hovering before hers as he stared deep into her eyes as if seeking reassurance from her.
She gave a quick nod.
He moved closer to her, kissing her again, which had her walking backward as his tongue roved the inside of her mouth.
With closed eyes, she continued to move until a piece of furniture blocked her backward path.
Luke’s hands found her hips, and he lifted her up and onto the desk. She wrapped her legs tight around him as he leaned into her, never breaking the kiss.
Hungry and fierce. Ravenous.
His hard length pressed against her, and she desperately wanted to free him.
Both hands braced against the desk on each side of her once he stepped back, his eyes raking her body. He cupped his mouth, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to prevent himself from coming back to her or strategizing his next move.
She bit her lip and arched her shoulders with anticipation, hoping for the second option.
He peeled off his shirt and unbuttoned the top of his dark denim jeans, exposing the gorgeous cut of his muscles.
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered.
“Besides get naked while I go down on you?”
Her thighs instantly tightened. “Ohh.”
A flicker of excitement crossed his face as he motioned for her to rise. He took her lip between his teeth, gently biting, as he shoved off her pants and underwear and slid a thick finger across her soaking wet center.
He released her lip but didn’t stop pleasuring her with his touch between her legs. “Take off your shirt. I’d do it for you, but my fingers are a little busy right now.” His other hand wrapped around her hip bone and bit into the flesh of her ass cheek.
Her pulse slammed hard at the side of her throat, and she fought the urge to rock against his palm as he took his sweet time touching her. “You’re not coming yet, honey. My mouth will be taking care of that.” A slow roll of Southern came from his voice as a wave of pleasure tore through her and shot up into her chest, making her nipples harden with the need to be sucked by his perfect mouth.
“It’s hard for me to take my shirt off with you doing that.” She closed her eyes and gripped his shoulders, fighting back the desire to orgasm. He was barely touching her, and yet, she was on the brink of losing her mind.
“If you want something bad enough,” he brushed his mouth over hers, “you find a way.”
Her fingertips dug into the hard planes of his chest,
and her hands skated slowly down his abs.
He gripped her ass even harder, and she gasped. “Shirt. Now,” he all but grunted.
Gathering the hem in her hands, even though his body was practically melded to hers now, she wrestled with the material, trying to lift it without banging him with her elbows—she didn’t want to kill the mood by hitting him.
“Bra,” he rasped as his finger plunged deeper inside, which had her tightening her muscles and arching forward even more.
“Breathtaking,” he whispered against her lips without even looking at her breasts once they’d been freed from the confines of her bra. “Lie back.”
He let go of her, and she shuddered from the loss of his touch, but the promise of what his mouth would soon bring gave her hope.
“On the desk?” She peered over her shoulder at the massive oak structure that could easily take her weight.
He nodded. “I have every intention of pleasuring you to the point where you forget both of your names.” A quick wink had her heart elevating as she positioned herself onto the desk once again.
He dropped his pants and boxers, his impressive length, roped in thick veins, drawing her eyes. He wrapped a hand around his shaft and pumped a few times as his blue eyes darkened. His gaze swept up from her toes to her heated cheeks in one fiery hot moment.
“I’ve wanted you like this ever since I saw you in those glasses.”
Her fingertips curled into her palms at her sides, and she leaned back onto her elbows but kept her gaze focused on his. “You have some sort of secretary fantasy? Or librarian?”
“As long as you’re the star of the show . . . I don’t care what you call it.” He closed the gap between them and pressed a hand to her stomach. His index finger made a circle around her belly button before tracing a line up the center of her body.
Her tongue peeked between her lips to wet them, and desire pooled between her legs as he palmed her breast. Her spine hit the desk as he gripped her outer thighs and scooted her butt almost off the edge. He lowered himself to his knees and parted her legs.
The moment his tongue darted up and down her sensitive flesh, her hands pounded the desk at her sides and she bucked up off the wood. Holy shit.
Finding His Mark (Stealth Ops Book 1) Page 10