Page 51

Bishop

I watched the play of emotions cross her face. From horror, to concern, to surprise and then to confusion. She thought she was good at hiding her thoughts, and maybe amongst people who didn’t need to be able to read people in order to survive she might be right. But reading micro-expressions was integral to my ability to work a situation to my advantage.

These days I might spend more time organizing and fixing, but for a long time I was just as active as Rook in a far more deadly arena and the instincts honed over those years were still very much alive.

And right now, those instincts were telling me that things were shifting, changing, evolving . This was no longer a business deal, a means to an end. It was something else, something unexpected. For the first time in a lifetime of making split-second decisions, I wasn’t sure what my next move should be.

Someone jostled Eden from behind, driving her forward a step. My hand curled around her elbow, steadying her. Her skin was warm beneath my palm, and I slid my hand up from her elbow to her shoulder.

A wry voice inside my head acknowledged my mistake.

I’d avoided touching her as much as possible because, somewhere deep inside, I’d known the second my skin touched hers I’d want more.

My fingers traced a path along her shoulder, up her throat, over her jaw until I could brush over her bottom lip with my thumb. Her lips parted, those green eyes wide and trained on me. I took another step closer and lowered my head … slow enough that she could turn away if she chose.

She didn’t.

My mouth touched hers, her lips soft and sweet with the faintest flavor of the champagne she was clutching in one hand. My hand slid up the back of her neck, cupping her head, and my tongue slid between her lips.

With every second that passed, I waited for her to pull away, to demand I stop, but she didn’t. Instead, she stepped closer, her hand smoothing up the silk of my shirt to loop around my neck. The move brought her flush against me, tipping her head back further and the kiss we shared deepened, grew hungrier, until it was me who dragged my mouth from hers.

Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, lipstick wiped clean away. I briefly wondered if it had transferred to my mouth, but I couldn’t summon up the effort to care.

“Eden.” My voice came out as a rough whisper.

Her lashes fluttered and slowly her lids lifted to reveal eyes slightly glazed. A blink or two and she focused on my face. Her tongue came out to lick over her lips, and I found myself copying the action.

“What—” She cleared her throat. “I …” She glanced around. “Did she leave?”

“Who?” I frowned.

“Susannah.”

“Susannah isn’t here.”

“Then why …” Her brows pulled together into a small, tight frown.

I stroked the outline of her lips with one finger. “Why not?”

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, but she didn’t look away from me.

“Tell me now if I’m reading this wrong.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “No, you’re not reading it wrong.” Her reply was soft.

I nodded and dropped my hand to take hers. “Dance with me.”

She didn’t resist as I drew her across the terrace and down the steps to where couples swayed together to the music. Turning, I slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her close to me. Her hands lifted to rest on my shoulders, and we moved around the dance floor.

“I never get involved with clients.”

Her eyes jerked up to meet mine when I spoke.

“It’s bad for business. Emotional entanglements can cause errors in judgment.”

She didn’t speak.

“A clinical approach to building a new identity for someone is paramount. Emotion has no place in my line of work.”

“I understand.”

I scowled. “ No , you don’t. I don’t fool around with my work, Eden.”

“Okay.”

I tightened my hold on her waist and dropped my forehead to rest against hers. “That’s just it. It’s not okay.” My confession came out as a raw whisper. “I want to kiss you again.”

Her response to that was to find my lips with hers and wind her arms tighter around my neck.

“Fuck.” The curse ripped out of me on a low growl when our mouths separated. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Do you know what my biggest fear has been?” Her head dropped to rest against my shoulder, and she spoke in a voice low enough for only me to hear.

“I don’t.”

“That the last emotional interaction I’d have with someone would be the one when Chester found me. His hands around my throat while he told me what he was going to do to me for running away.” Her lips brushed against the side of my neck as she spoke. “If I have to take on an entirely new identity, I’d like my last memories as Eden Marshall to be ones I can look back on fondly instead of with fear.” Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt. “Would it really be so far outside of the contract we signed to give me that?”