Crossing the Line

by Cynthia Eden

  Because he was suddenly kissing her with a focused, lust-driven intensity. He was feeding on her mouth. Her heart was pounding, her nails digging into him as she tried to get closer and closer and—

  “Ahem. I don’t think a passionate marriage is going to be a problem for you.”

  She’d forgotten Martin. She had no idea exactly how long she’d been kissing Linc, but she’d forgotten she had an audience.

  And Blair would never, ever admit that fact to anyone. That was one of those carry-to-your-grave secrets.

  Linc lifted his head. He didn’t speak. He just stared at her, and yes, his pupils were huge. The darkness of his eyes seemed even deeper than before. His features appeared absolutely savage as he focused on her.

  “I love my husband’s passion,” she said because someone had to say something.

  Linc growled. He carried her over the threshold. Martin had opened the door—probably when they were kissing—and he followed them in with their bags.

  Linc didn’t put her down. He just held her tighter.

  “Um, honey…” Blair prompted as she tapped his shoulder.

  Martin waved toward the massive, king-sized bed. It was a canopy bed and sheer, flowing curtains hung from the canopy. Rose petals had been sprinkled into a heart shape in the middle of the bed. Martin pointed and said, “Champagne is right here. Your strawberries are—”

  “Martin,” Linc’s voice was dark and rough. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but get the fuck out.”

  She felt her own eyes widen.

  “Ah…right.” But instead of vacating, Martin sidled closer. “The walkie-talkie is in the night stand.” He held out his hand. “And I’m close, should you need me, for anything.”

  The guy wasn’t leaving without a tip. Blair got that from his outstretched hand.

  The jerking muscle in Linc’s jaw said he got it, too. Slowly, he lowered Blair. Her body brushed against his.

  Her heart was racing way too fast. And why did every part of her body feel so sensitive?

  “Don’t move,” Linc told her.

  He shoved his hand into his pocket and practically threw the tip at Martin. “Get lost and stay gone. I have everything I need.”

  “I am sure you do.” Martin inclined his head. “Enjoy your stay in paradise.” He hurried out.

  Linc kept his gaze on Blair. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see that Martin was closing the front door. The door was made of glass—the entire front of the bungalow was glass. Huge windows and the glass door that let them—

  Linc picked her up. He spun her around and dropped her on the bed.

  “What are you—” Blair began.

  He followed her onto the bed.

  Followed her.

  Linc caught her hands and lifted them above her head. Then his mouth came down next to her ear. “The sonofabitch is lingering at the door, watching us.”

  He was? Well, someone was a perv.

  “So if I let my beautiful bride step away after a kiss hot enough to fucking melt me, he’ll get suspicious.”

  Linc’s breath blew right over the shell of her ear. She shivered. She sure seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Maybe she was catching a cold.

  Yeah, right.

  And, wait, had he just said the kiss was “hot enough to fucking melt me” or had she imagined that?

  “We should just stay like this for a few more moments.”

  Stay like this? With him on top of her and his breath blowing across the shell of her ear?

  You’ve been in war zones, woman. You’ve been in pits that passed for prisons. You can handle this.

  “Don’t want to make him suspicious,” Linc rasped.

  No, they didn’t. But she could also not just stay there beneath him. He was all around her. His scent—crisp and masculine. And he was warm. Strong and—

  She flipped him. Rolled hard and fast so that she was on top and straddling him.

  Linc blinked up at her, and then a slow smile curved his lips. Panty-melting. “That was absolutely awesome.”

  What was awesome? Was he talking about the kiss? Or—

  His hands clamped on her wrists. “The butler is coming back.” He lunged up, hauling her toward him at the exact same time she heard a light rap on the door and then—

  “Forgot to mention—the golf cart will stay with you. We don’t have cars on the island, but we have—”

  “If you do not get the fuck out of here, Martin, I will kick your ass.” Linc pulled her closer against him. “Honeymoon, asshole. I want to be alone with my wife. Now.”

  The door shut quickly. With a hard rattle of glass.

  Her hands had flown up to clutch Linc’s shoulders. Blair stared at the rough lines of his face. His gaze was directed over her shoulder.

  “Is he gone?” she barely breathed the words.

  “Yes, he’s—”

  She shoved him back against the pillows even as she leapt from the bed. Fire seemed to pore from her veins as she stomped around the bungalow. She headed for the door—and yanked the curtains across the glass. She yanked the white curtains over the windows in the front, too. Not like they’d provide much coverage. They were sheer as hell because, apparently, they were on a peepshow honeymoon.

  “So…do you kiss all of your husbands that way?”

  She froze. Then felt the tension gather between her shoulder blades. “Do not push me right now.”

  “I’m not pushing. I’m just saying—that was…unexpected.”

  She spun toward him.

  He was still sprawled on the bed. She stalked back toward him. Put one knee on the bed.

  His eyes widened.

  She leaned toward him. Put her mouth near his ear. “Don’t say another word, not until we sweep for listening devices or any video equipment that might be here.” That would be a daily ritual for them—sweeping a room was second nature for Wilde agents.

  He shouldn’t have needed the warning. He should have known to watch his mouth.

  And why was his hand snaking up her side again? Curling right over the spot where her hip dipped?

  “I love it when you get bossy,” he told her as he flashed his cocky smile. The one that warmed his eyes. “It’s sexy as hell.” The words were loud. In character. She knew he was playing Linc Rutherford right then.

  And she was playing her part, too. That was why she slowly slid her hand down his chest. “I just have to get a few things out of my bag. Give me a second.” Her voice carried in case anyone was listening.

  She went back for her bag. Opened it and deliberately took out her sexy red lingerie.

  “Oh, God. You want me to have a heart attack.”

  Her eyes rolled. He was laying it on a bit thick, even for Linc Rutherford, spoiled rich guy extraordinaire. But whatever. She had a job to do. Wrapped inside the lingerie, she had a handy, dandy piece of tech from Wilde that would let her know if there were any devices transmitting from that room. She did a quick sweep, as she pretended to walk coyly around the room. And as she walked, she was also carefully searching for any camera equipment or anything that seemed out of place but…

  “We’re good.” She tossed the lingerie—and the tech—back in her suitcase. “The place is clean.”

  Linc moved to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side. “You sure about that?”

  “One hundred percent? No, of course not. But you know Eric and his toys. That one is supposed to be able to detect any listening devices and it turned up nothing. And if there was anything transmitting video, we should have found it, too.”

  He nodded. His gaze also darted to her mouth. He frowned.

  Then he rose.

  Her spine stiffened as Linc headed toward her. “What are you doing?”

  He stopped right in front of her. His hand lifted, and his fingers lightly caressed her lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “For kissing me? Yes, well, I didn’t—”

  “I think I was too rough. Your mouth is red. Swollen.”
He shook his head. “I wanted to be gentle.”

  His fingers had just brushed over her lips and now she felt all kinds of weird. Blair stepped back. “Gentle doesn’t cut it.”

  Linc blinked. “Uh, come again?”

  “You’re obsessed with me.”

  His eyes widened.

  “You can’t keep your hands off me.”

  His mouth opened, as if he’d say something. A denial. The denial never came.

  “You think about me every moment, day and night.”

  “Blair, you—”

  “Because I’m the wife you adore, remember? That’s the cover I’m using for this case.”

  His mouth snapped closed. “Right.”

  “So you don’t give me some cold, half-ass kiss.”

  Now he backed up. “Half-ass?”

  “You need to kiss me like you can’t breathe without me.” She lifted her hand and pointed at him. No, she jabbed her finger into his chest. “You need to kiss me like you’re going to die without tasting my mouth. You’re all in, or no one will buy our story. You don’t handle me with kid gloves. You handle me like you can’t wait to rip my clothes off.”

  His nostrils flared. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

  She lifted one eyebrow and yanked her hand away from his chest. “Me, too.”

  He spun on his heel.

  Where was he going? “Linc?”

  “Be back in five.”

  “What?”

  “I need a fucking cold shower right now.” He glanced back at her. “Damn fucking cold.”

  He grabbed the bathroom door. Yanked it open. It shut a second later.

  Blair released the breath she’d been holding. “You and me both,” she whispered.

  ***

  Linc stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  “You’re obsessed with me.”

  He swallowed.

  “You can’t keep your hands off me.”

  He forced out a ragged breath.

  “You think about me every moment, day and night.”

  He gripped the granite edge of the sink. “Yeah, I’m fucked.”

  Chapter Three

  “If we just sit here, there’s no way we’re going to catch the attention of the bad guys.”

  Linc cocked his head and glanced over at Blair. He’d been sprawled in the bed, and she’d been doing her delightful pacing. She paced when she was nervous or too much adrenaline poured through her system. “You should try the champagne,” he advised as he lifted his flute toward her. “It’s really quite good.”

  “I’m not going to get drunk on a case.” She sniffed. Stared pointedly at him.

  He drained the flute. No sense wasting the good stuff. “If we don’t drink, doesn’t that arouse suspicion? I mean, we’re on our honeymoon.” He plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from the nearby tray. “You need to try one of these. They look—”

  “I’m allergic to strawberries.”

  He paused with the strawberry half-way toward his mouth. “Since when?”

  “Since…always?”

  He narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out if she was lying. “What happens if you eat strawberries? You don’t go into shock or anything like that, do you?”

  “No shock, but I’ll get some super sexy red splotches all over my body and I’ll itch for the rest of the night so—Linc? What are you doing?”

  He’d jumped out of the bed and grabbed all the strawberries. He dumped them in the nearest trash can and then made sure to scrub his hands clean.

  She followed him into the bathroom. The bathroom with the Jacuzzi tub and all the scented candles. Some thoughtful person—probably the ever-helpful Martin—had lit them before Linc and Blair’s arrival.

  Blair sighed. “That is such a fire hazard.” Then the woman proceeded to blow out every candle before coming back to his side. “I think your hands are clean. You’re about to rub off the skin.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m protecting you.”

  She met his stare in the massive mirror. “From what?”

  “From the strawberries. That’s what I was doing. Getting rid of them. Removing all traces of them from my person…” He turned to face her. “Like I said, protecting you. You’re welcome.”

  Her gaze was suspicious.

  He dried his hands. “You can’t keep secrets like that from me.”

  “I’m not the one who keeps secrets in this relationship!”

  Had she just said they had a relationship? Linc was pretty sure she—

  “Partners don’t keep secrets,” she quickly amended. “But we both know how you like to keep things private. You leave me in the dark most days, and I have no idea what agenda you are really working.”

  A man went off book one time…he hunted down a rogue killer without telling his partner all the facts one time, and she didn’t let it go.

  Not that he could blame her, but…

  “A strawberry allergy is something I should know about,” he told her softly. “It’s something your husband would know about. He wouldn’t feed you a strawberry that would send you hiving out on your honeymoon. If there are any other little details like that, you need to tell me about them so I can put them in my Blair vault.”

  She glared and then…laughed. “I’m sorry, did you say you have a Blair vault?”

  He absolutely did. “It’s where I put all of my Blair tidbits.”

  She shook her head and turned away. “You are crazy.”

  He caught her wrist before he could think to stop himself. His thumb slid along her inner wrist, right over her pulse.

  He could have sworn he felt her pulse race right before she pulled away. Blair stalked back into the main room. He followed her. “Not crazy. I’m thorough. There’s a difference.”

  Blair glanced over her shoulder at him. “If you need to tell yourself that…”

  “I try to learn everything about you that’s important because if we’re ever in a dangerous undercover situation, that information could be crucial. I need to know you better than you know yourself. I need to know every secret.”

  She stiffened.

  And, shit, he’d said the wrong thing.

  “I agree, it’s important to know your partner. I thought I did know you, until we took the case down in Alabama and I found out that you were using your position with Wilde to hunt down your sister’s killer.”

  “She deserved justice.” And, with the help of the sheriff down there, she’d gotten her justice.

  Blair took a hard step toward him. “I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m saying you should have told me. There is no secret that you can’t share with me. Hell, after the shit hit the fan, didn’t I stay by your side? I could have switched partners. It could be me and Cole in this room right now.”

  Cole…pretending to be married to Blair? Cole…carrying Blair over the threshold? Cole…kissing Blair? Hell, no. Hell, no. “Not happening.”

  “It didn’t happen because I chose to stay with you. But don’t ever put me in a situation like that again. You’ve got some past that you think is big and dark? Newsflash.” Her hands went to her hips as she faced off with him. “You aren’t the only one. But when your past comes back and tries to bite us both in the ass, you share that information.”

  He nodded. “If something tries to bite your ass, I will share it.”

  “Do not try to make me laugh right now.”

  “Why? You’re even more gorgeous when you laugh.”

  “I am going to hurt you,” Blair threatened.

  Actually, B, I’m pretty sure that one day you will wreck my heart. But he just gave her a wide smile. “Are you getting cabin fever? Or, rather, bungalow fever?”

  “I am. In the worst way.” She blew out a hard breath. “But we’re supposed to be having wild, bed-breaking sex—”

  His eyes narrowed. Break a lot of beds, do you?

  “We need a plan. Because if we simply stroll out and start investigating, we’ll look suspiciou
s.”

  “Not if we stroll the right way.” He yanked off his shirt. Tossed it on the floor. “Don’t worry, I already have a cover for us. Came up with it while I was enjoying my champagne.”

  Her gaze dropped to his chest. She licked her lower lip. “What are you doing?”

  “You should put on one of your bikinis. I’ll put on some swim trunks. We’ll hop around the island, act like we’re planning to swim—either at the beach or at the big, fancy pool that’s supposed to be here at the main resort building—and we can investigate all we want.” He thought it was a brilliant plan.

  She turned away. Grabbed something from her bag. “I’ll be right back.”

  While she changed in the bathroom, he ditched his jeans and grabbed his swim trunks. Even slid on some overpriced flip flops to complete his look. The sun was setting, but he grabbed his shades and popped them on right before the bathroom door opened and—

  It was a shit plan. The absolute worst plan that he’d ever had in his entire life.

  She stood there, wearing a red bikini. Had to be the sexiest thing that he’d ever seen. Little bitty scraps. And, yes, he could totally buy that she’d been a swimsuit model. Yep, he could buy that in a thousand ways. An absolutely perfect cover story for her.

  Blair’s hands went to her hips. “Your eyes had better be on my face.”

  He’d never been more grateful to have on sunglasses. “Don’t act like you weren’t checking out my abs. I saw you.”

  Her eyes turned toward the ceiling.

  She didn’t deny his charge.

  “You should take a cover up,” he advised her. Because if some asshole eye-fucks you, he’s dead.

  Wait…had he just been the asshole eye-fucking her? Dammit. He spun on his heel.

  “The scars are that bad?”

  Scars? What scars? He spun right back around and frowned at her.

  Blair bit her lower lip. “I thought they had faded enough that I might be able to pull off the swimsuit, but I’ll definitely get a cover up.” She moved forward.

  He blocked her path.

  “Linc?”

  “When I look at you, scars are the last thing that I see.” Actually, he hadn’t seen them at all. Still didn’t see them. His gaze swept over her.

  Oh, sweet fucking hell…