Page 23 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

sixteen

Asher

After the money transfers started moving in real-time, everything shifted into crisis mode. We'd sent all of Vanessa's data to Cole for tracking while Kade mobilized surveillance teams immediately.

The exhaustion finally hit her like a freight train once the adrenaline faded. She could barely keep her eyes open as I carried her upstairs.

But sleep eludes me.

I move silently up the stairs, drawn by an impulse I don't examine too closely.

The bedroom door stands slightly ajar. Through the gap, dim light from the partially closed blinds paints horizontal stripes across her sleeping form. Dark hair with vivid pink streaks spills across my pillow, and the sight hits me with unexpected force.

She sleeps curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, lips parted. My black t-shirt she's been wearing has ridden up, exposing the curve of her hip. The blanket has tangled around her legs from restless movement, and even in sleep, her fingers twitch like she's coding in her dreams.

I should leave. Check the perimeter. Review overnight surveillance feeds. Something.

I stand there watching her breathe.

What the fuck is happening to you, Cross?

What happened earlier tonight replays in sharp detail. Her sinking to her knees without hesitation. The way she whispered 'Yes, sir' as if the words came straight from her soul. How close I came to losing every shred of control I've spent fifteen years building.

How close I came to taking what she offered so freely.

The admission twists in my gut. If that laptop alert hadn't interrupted us, if she'd kept looking at me with those dark eyes full of submission and trust... I don't know what would have happened. And that uncertainty is more dangerous than any enemy I've faced.

She shifts, a small sound escaping her lips, and I retreat before she can wake and find me watching her.

Heading back downstairs to the kitchen, I go through the motions of my routine. But instead of the usual single cup, I prepare two without conscious thought.

Water heated to 205 degrees. Beans ground for seventeen seconds. Two cups ready.

When did making coffee for her become automatic?

Light footsteps on the stairs announce her approach. Every nerve in my body lights up as she enters the kitchen, and I force myself not to turn around immediately.

"Hey." Her voice carries that sleep-rough rasp that sends electricity straight to my cock.

I face her, and my breath catches despite having seen her like this before. The sight of her in my shirt, the hem hitting mid-thigh, affects me even more now than it did the first time.

Her pink-streaked hair waves around her shoulders in complete disarray. Without makeup, she looks impossibly young and thoroughly rumpled from sleep.

And mine.

The thought hits before I can stop it, primitive and absolute.

I slide coffee across the counter with measured control. "You slept."

"Like the dead." She takes the cup, fingers brushing mine briefly. The contact sends fire up my arm. "Your bed is basically a sensory deprivation chamber. How do you function without white noise?"

"Training."

She perches on a barstool, crossing bare legs under her. The motion makes my shirt ride higher on her thighs, and I have to grip my cup tighter to keep from reaching for her.

"Right. Military sleep conditioning." Her eyes study my face over the coffee rim. "You look like you didn't sleep much, though."

Because I spent every hour replaying how she felt in my hands. The other time planning ways to eliminate anyone who might threaten her.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." She sets her cup down with a soft clink. "But I'll let it slide since you make excellent coffee."

We fall into silence, but it's charged. Weighted with everything that happened between us. Her gaze keeps flicking to my mouth, and the heat in her eyes makes my control fracture around the edges.

"That thing that happened between us..." She starts, then pauses, chewing her lip. "When you made me kneel? It was like someone turned off the noise in my head for the first time in years."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Every muscle in my body goes rigid as images flash through my mind - her on her knees, looking up at me with those trusting dark eyes, the way she melted under my command.

Blood rushes south so fast it makes me dizzy. My hands shake with the sudden, overwhelming urge to bend her over this kitchen island and show her exactly what effect that confession has on me.

Control. Maintain fucking control.

"Working parameters." I force the words out, voice rougher than intended. "We need to establish clear boundaries."

Her eyebrow arches. "Boundaries? After you had me on my knees calling you sir?"

The memory makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans. I turn away, ostensibly to refill my coffee, but really to hide the evidence of how completely she's destroying my composure.

"You're a civilian under protection. There are protocols."

"Protocols." She repeats the word like it tastes bitter. "Is that what stopped you from taking things further with me yesterday? Because it sure didn't stop you from kissing me that night at my apartment."

The question cuts too close to the truth. Because it wasn't protocols that stopped me yesterday - it was pure self-preservation. The knowledge that if I'd crossed that line when she was on her knees, I wouldn't have been able to stop with just a kiss this time. Not like before.

"That was different. A momentary lapse."

"Momentary?" Her eyebrow arches. "So what would you call having me on my knees calling you sir? Another lapse?"

"It's what should have stopped me sooner."

Something flickers across her face. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment.

"So we're pretending it didn't happen?"

"We're focusing on the investigation."

She nods slowly, but I catch the way her fingers tap against the counter. A nervous tell she probably doesn't realize she has.

My secure phone buzzes against the marble countertop just after midnight, displaying Xander's contact. I welcome the interruption.

"Frost." I answer, setting the call to speaker.

"Evening, sunshine. Or would it be good morning?" Xander's face appears on my phone screen, and his eyes immediately find Vanessa in the frame. Something shifts in his expression , an appreciation that makes my jaw clench. "Well, hello there, gorgeous."

The endearment sends a cold spike through my chest. I shift to block more of Vanessa from view, my body moving on pure instinct.

"Status report."

"Right, business first." Xander's grin doesn't fade completely. "Vertex Models surveillance is active. Their security is professional-grade, but we've got eyes on all entrances."

"Send me the full breakdown."

Vanessa scoots closer, her shoulder brushing my arm. The contact shouldn't feel significant, but my body disagrees, every nerve ending suddenly attentive to her proximity.

"What about digital surveillance?" she asks, and I hear the excitement creeping into her voice. "Any weakness in their network security?"

"Smart question." Xander's appreciative tone makes something dark and possessive unfurl in my chest. "Cole's running cyber reconnaissance, but we could use your expertise on the encryption analysis."

"Cole? As in Cole Tanaka?" Vanessa perks up, recognition clear in her voice.

I turn to her sharply. "You know Blade?"

"He sent me a job offer. About three weeks ago." She shrugs like it's nothing. "Some kind of security consulting position."

The information catches me off guard. Cole never mentioned recruiting Vanessa. Judging by Xander's equally surprised expression, he wasn't aware either.

"All intel comes through me first." The words come out sharper than intended, cutting through her excited rambling.

Both Vanessa and Xander pause, something shifting in the air.

"Oh." Xander's eyebrows rise slightly, and there's a knowing look in his eyes that I don't like. "Of course. Wouldn't want to compromise operational security."

"I can definitely help with the encryption work," Vanessa continues, either missing the undercurrent or choosing to ignore it. "If we're dealing with government-level security—"

"You'll work from here." I cut her off. "Secure location only."

She turns to stare at me, challenge sparking in her dark eyes. "I'm not asking to go anywhere, Asher. I'm talking about real-time data access."

"Your safety is my priority."

"My safety?" Her voice rises slightly. "I'm talking about monitoring their systems remotely from your kitchen. How is that a safety issue?"

Xander clears his throat. "Should I... call back later? Seems like you two have some things to discuss."

"No." I keep my gaze fixed on Vanessa, noting the flush creeping up her neck, the way her breathing has changed. "We're done here."

"Actually, I wanted to coordinate directly with Vanessa on the technical side," Xander interjects, and every muscle in my body goes tense. "Cole thinks her pattern recognition could—"

I end the call.

The kitchen falls into charged silence. Vanessa stares at me, her expression unreadable but intense.

"What was that about?" she asks.

"Security protocols."

"Bullshit." She slides off the barstool, moving closer. "That was you being territorial."

The word hits like a physical blow because she's right. But I can't examine why the thought of her working directly with Xander makes my hands clench into fists.

"You're assigned to me."

"Assigned." She steps into my personal space, tilting her chin up defiantly. "Like equipment."

"Like someone under protection."

"Is that what I am to you?" Her voice drops, taking on a quality that reminds me of how she sounded when she whispered 'Yes, sir.' "Just another assignment?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with implications I'm not ready to examine. Because the honest answer is no. She's not an assignment or an asset or any other term I use to maintain distance.

She's something else. Something that makes my carefully ordered existence tilt off its axis.

"You're..." I start, then stop, because I don't have words for what she is.

She takes another step closer, close enough that I can smell coconut and vanilla mixed with my soap on her skin. Close enough to see the golden flecks in her dark eyes, the way her pupils dilate as she looks up at me.

"I'm what, Asher?"

My restraint fractures.

One moment we're standing apart, the next my hands are fisting in her hair, angling her head back as my mouth crashes down on hers with desperate hunger. She responds instantly, rising on her toes as her hands grip my shoulders, meeting my kiss with equal intensity.

She tastes like coffee and something uniquely her, and when she makes a soft sound against my lips, it nearly destroys what's left of my control.

I back her against the kitchen island, my body caging her smaller frame as I deepen the kiss with a hunger that wasn't there before, claiming her mouth with a desperation I couldn't show that first night.

She makes me forget who I'm supposed to be.

Not Frost, the sniper who keeps his distance. Not the operative who never compromises mission parameters. Just a man who wants to protect her, possess her, make sure no one else ever gets close enough to hurt her.

Every rational thought disappears under the onslaught of sensation. Her warmth, her taste, the way she melts against me like she was made for this. Made for me.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Her eyes are wide and dark with want, lips swollen from my kiss, and she looks so beautiful it physically hurts.

"Asher..." she whispers.

Reality crashes back like cold water.

I jerk away, the full force of what just happened slamming into me. My control. My discipline. Years of military training, and she destroys it with a single look.

"That can't happen again."

The words come out rougher than intended. Vanessa blinks, confusion and hurt flashing across her face.

"What?"

"You're under my protection." I force my voice back to professional detachment, even though every cell in my body is screaming to pull her back into my arms. "It's inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You just kissed me like I was your last meal, and now you're worried about appropriateness?"

She's right. And that's exactly why this can't continue.

"My job is to keep you safe. Not to—"

"Not to what? Feel something?" Her voice rises, color flooding her cheeks. "God forbid Frost has a human emotion."

But that's the problem. What I feel for her isn't normal. It's something darker, more possessive. Something that whispers she belongs to me and anyone who threatens her needs to disappear.

"The investigation comes first."

"Of course it does." She pushes past me toward the living room, her movements sharp with anger. "Message received loud and clear."

She leaves me standing alone in my kitchen, the taste of her still on my lips and the knowledge that I've just made either the smartest or most catastrophic decision of my career.

Because kissing her this time was different. Hungrier. More desperate than that night at her apartment. And that's exactly why this can't continue.

The truth I can't admit, even to myself, is that she's already under my skin in ways that compromise everything I am.

And I'm not sure I care anymore.