Page 16 of Covert Temptation (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie #4)

“It was stupid of me to look at my parents’ profiles. I don’t know why I even did it. Maybe because…without Alyssa I only have them, however dysfunctional they are.”

Dante searched her face, his stare burning with a new intensity. It made her squirm. It made her stomach roll.

It made her want to slip into his lap and be held.

“Kennedy, the things you’ve done over the past two days haven’t instilled trust in you. You ran from the safe house, and I had to hop a helicopter to chase you down. Now I can’t even take a shower without worrying what you’re going to do next.”

She had to backtrack with him. But how?

She racked her brain and finally lit on an idea.

Growing up, the only way to keep her rioting parents on an even keel was with some comic relief.

“Shh.”

“Shh what?” He narrowed his eyes as if she were trying to trick him.

“Don’t talk. You’re so much hotter when you don’t talk.”

His hard lips parted in incredulity, and redness streaked up his tanned throat. “Are you sexualizing me?”

She twisted her lips into a thoughtful pout. “Maybe a little bit.”

Her joke had the effect she was hoping for. The tension between them flowed away, and she relaxed her knotted fingers.

For a long beat, their gazes locked. The memory of his hand running all over her naked body made her breath hitch. Dropping her stare to his mouth, she remembered other things—like the wet, heated swipe of his tongue over her nipples.

Dante’s attention was fixed on her face with a strong grip that didn’t seem to want to let go. The sensation made her skin prickle, heat blooming under the surface like he was touching her without lifting a finger.

His gaze dropped—slowly, deliberately—trailing down the curve of her neck, over the edge of her oversized sweater that hung just enough off one shoulder to hint at bare skin beneath.

His jaw tightened slightly, a muscle ticking.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

The air between them stretched thin and electric, and when his eyes finally met hers again, something dark and dangerous flickered in them. Not just want.

Possession .

And Kennedy felt it right down to her toes.

Whatever this thing was between them, it wasn’t cooling off anytime soon.

He shifted on the sofa. “Tell me about your family.”

Clearly, he would not be distracted for long.

In an attempt to center herself, she swallowed a gulp of air. “My father is an alcoholic.”

He nodded in understanding.

“So is my mother.”

His lips tightened.

She plowed on in a tumble of words, wanting to get it over with quick.

“They fought all the time. Not just screaming matches—all-out brawls. The cops were at our house so often I started to think they were my uncles. Right before I left for college, they split. I’d say it was the best decision ever for them…

except they both seemed to choose a new partner that was exactly like the old.

Nothing at all has changed for them, but I still check in once in a while. ”

She shrugged, collecting her thoughts. “As soon as I see the train wreck they are, I back out and stop looking in on them for a while. With the fake profile, Diana Prince…I was able to check in on them without them knowing.”

“And the counting?” he asked.

She swallowed hard. “I still remember the number of steps it took to get from my bedroom to the phone to call for help.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“And to the door if I needed to escape.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That’s no way to grow up. I’m sorry.”

She could only nod.

“I understand how difficult family can be.” His words, stated so somberly, made her feel like he really did get it. She eyed him, wondering what kind of background Dante came from. A SEAL with no current ties to anything but his brotherhood.

She went on, “I’ve never had a lot of people in my life.

I’m an only child. I haven’t been in a long-term relationship or even dated in so long.

But that was okay—I was content in my position as Alyssa’s assistant, and I love traveling and seeing new things.

Meeting new people…” She trailed off as she realized Dante was looking at her with that same focus as earlier, like he was trying to unravel her secrets… or undress her.

As if needing to put distance between them, he got up and paced across the room. “You said you haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

She flicked her gaze to his. “That’s right.”

“How many boyfriends are in your past?”

“Are you asking so you can research them and see if they have any ties to that software on my phone?”

“No. I want to know your body count.” His jaw flexed.

She blinked at his words. “I’ve never killed anyone, Dante.”

His eyes slipped shut, and he huffed in amusement. “I know. I meant sex partners.”

Her lips formed an O. She wanted to be transparent with Dante.

“Three.” She dipped her head.

His eyes did that hazy, sexy thing again, irises wrought with electricity that gave her chills and had her stomach doing backflips.

“Including you,” she added.

“Fuck.” He didn’t even pause—he strode back to her.

It only took seven steps to reach her.

It would have taken her six running ones.

Her legs moved on their own, and she pushed to a stand, looking around for escape. But he was right—she’d never be able to run anywhere that he wouldn’t find her.

Her eyes flared wide as he reached out. Clamping one hand on her waist and the other curling around her nape, he pulled her against him, hauling her into his arms.

A coo of want escaped her, but he silenced it by slamming his mouth over hers. She whimpered, pushing closer to his body, fisting his shirt as she parted her lips for the hot sweep of his tongue.

Oh god, this man could kiss. He plundered her, angling his head and delving into her mouth again and again and again. She trembled for more, her hand roaming over his chest and shoulder, feeling the swell of strong muscle.

He slipped his hand from her waist to her hip, and she automatically hiked her leg around his thigh, opening to him in every way.

As her pussy rubbed against his stiff length, he issued a roughened groan. She rocked forward, pressing into what she craved—and threw them both off balance.

They toppled to the floor in a crash. She fell across his chest, whooshing all the air from her lungs.

“Ooph!”

The sound of wood splintering brought her out of her daze. Sprawled over Dante, she lifted her head and met his equally confused gaze.

“The coffee table,” she rasped. “We broke it.”

“Damn the table.” His rough fingers eased under her hair, hooking around her nape and drawing her lips back to his.

Her insides tightened, began to pulse with a tight thread of need that thickened with each pass of his tongue across hers.

Passion flowed between them, hot, hotter. He gripped her hips and rolled her to the side, out of the rubble that was the old coffee table. When he flipped her beneath him, he stared down into her eyes.

“Three,” he gritted out.

It took a moment for her fogged mind to catch up. He was talking about the number of lovers she’d had, including him.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Christ, Kennedy. I can’t stop myself from wanting you.”

“I’m not asking you to stop.” She dug her fingers into his spine and drew him back down to her eager lips.