Page 23 of Secret Mission

The way her lashes flutter and widen now makes it so much worse.

That innocence calls to a darker thread, tugging it until I’m a throbbing heartbeat away from unravelling.

I want to own her gasping breath, make her eyes widen when she shatters. Just for fucking fun. For being so goddamned sexy and not even knowing she is.

Shaking my head, I scrub my calloused palm over my mouth, willing the saliva stirring around my tongue to back the fuck up.

Women like Allison don’t want to fuck and forget. And that’s all I got—all this muscle, sinew and testosterone are good for.

The rest of me is a wasteland.

Or I was, but watching her process her shock, her embarrassment is like a deep breath to the animal inside me. Feeding me like a ray of sun to a dead, crusty soul made of ash.

Stumbling backward, making another startled sound, Allison shuffles until her pale, bare thighs hit the bed, she stares at me wide-eyed, licking nervously at her bottom lip.

“Oh, my god. You undressed me.”

No use trying to look apologetic. Especially because I amnotsorry.

“You needed to get dry. Had to check for other wounds I might have missed.”

She gulps audibly.

After a very long time of her blinking, staring into space, she roughly whispers, “Thanks. I think…”

“You’re welcome.”

Disbelief morphs in front of my eyes, replaced by a tight frown that puts a divot between her delicate brows. “It’s your fault I was in the river.”

I’m feeling testy, so I don’t bother holding back. Not that I ever do. “Rather take a bullet back there?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. You almost got me killed.”

“Well, I know. We were being surrounded. My only job is to protect you and keep you safe. And back there, that meant getting you the hell out of there.”

Tight words fire at me across the small boat. “You could have at least given me a warning before you jerked me off of a twenty-foot-high cliff.”

“Would you have gone?”

She blinks and considers. That intelligent mind whirring. “Maybe?”

“See, that’s why I didn’t ask.”

Tugging at a strand of her hair, she looks around, defeat washing over her features. “What’s happening in my life right now? I thought things were bad… now it’s completely nuts.”

I lean against the wooden pole, trying to ground myself in the midst of the mess we’re both in. The decision to go off that cliff with her was easy. Now things are skidding toward train-wreck zone at warp speed.

With a grumble, I look away. “I’m asking myself the same fucking thing.”

“Where is your team?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I look at her again, taking in the details now that she’s dry, unlike earlier when she was limp, half-drowned, and vulnerable in my arms.

There’s something different now. A different kind of raw and unguarded energy about her now—something that shouldn’t make me feel this goddamn torn.

She’s a client’s daughter.

The woman I’m supposed to protect, but what am I doing?