by Lori Sjoberg
The thought of sleep made him yawn. He wasn’t much good to either one of them if he grew too tired to function. Mindful of Ziegler and his minions, he locked the front door and pulled the curtains over all of the windows. Outside, a strong gust whipped against the walls, making him grateful to be indoors. He stood in the dark, the fire in the hearth the only source of light.
Fatigue gnawed at his bones as he sat on the recliner and removed his boots and socks. Then he peeled off his sodden shirt and jeans and laid them across the seat back.
Should he remove her soaked clothes as well? Her body would certainly warm faster that way, but when she woke she’d probably be pissed.
Aw, fuck it. She’ll get over it eventually. Kneeling beside her in nothing but his BVDs, he pulled back the covers and began undressing her. Careful not to jostle her, he stripped off the layers, leaving her in only her panties and T-shirt. At least this way she maintained most of her modesty.
Finished, he laid her back down, pausing for a few moments to admire her slender body. She really was quite beautiful. Full lips. High cheekbones. Long lines and lean muscles, with just enough curves to make his hands yearn to wander. Funny how he never noticed that before. Unable to resist, he brushed the backs of his knuckles across her cheek and down her throat.
She started to shiver, and it pleased him to see that her body’s heat regulation was trying to kick back into gear. With luck, she’d sleep for a good, long stretch while her body repaired the damaged caused by the elements.
When he slipped beneath the covers and stretched out beside her, the scent of her filled his lungs and invaded every pore. With her back to his chest, he wrapped an arm around her torso and nestled her close against him. Between the fire and his body heat, her core temperature would rise much faster. At least, that was how he justified it to himself.
Giving in to the pull of exhaustion, he closed his eyes and fell asleep to the sound of her breathing and the crackle of the fire.
A soft red glow filled Gwen’s vision when she woke.
Gradually, her eyes pulled into focus, and she recognized the glow as the flames from a fire. Her gaze darted about the room, but it was too dark to see much of anything. The last thing she remembered was freezing her ass off in the snow. Where was she? How did she get here? And when?
She didn’t need to look to know who was spooning her from behind. She knew his masculine scent all too well and had come to welcome its presence. With the fire in front of her, his strong arms around her, and his chest snug against her back, she was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. It was bliss. What a difference a few hours made.
“Hmm, zaika moya,” his deep, husky voice murmured in her ear. His beard stubble scraped the side of her neck and sparked a delicious ache low in her belly.
“Dmitri?”
He said something in Russian too low for her to make out, then rubbed his lips against her throat. No way would he act like this if he were awake. But if he was dreaming, was he dreaming about her? It was the only possible explanation. Who else would he give that god-awful nickname to?
She twisted her neck so she could see him. Even in the faint flickering light of the fire, she could tell that he was out cold. Firelight glinted against his tousled black hair, his square jaw shadowed with stubble. His lips curled up—just a bit—at the corners, and in that moment he looked so ridiculously gorgeous her heart dropped down to her stomach.
No. Not him. Not now.
Not ever.
Fighting against the pull of attraction, she shoved all thoughts of affection aside. This was crazy. It couldn’t work. Too much history stood between them. Besides, he’d made it perfectly clear he barely tolerated her existence. No way could he harbor those kinds of feelings for her.
Right?
But from what she remembered, he’d carried her through the blizzard when he could have easily left her behind. That had to stand for something. Perhaps he’d done it out of professional courtesy, one reaper helping another in need.
Only this didn’t feel like professional courtesy, especially with his hand against her bare belly. His fingers lightly stroked her skin. His lips went back to nuzzling her neck, and when his palm skimmed up to cup her breast, she felt a surge of hot, unrelenting need.
Oh, God. If he kept this up, they’d both regret it in the morning. But part of her didn’t want him to stop. A big part, if she were being honest. She wanted his hands and mouth all over her body. Wanted to feel the pump of his hips as he thrust deep inside her. Wanted to know what kinds of sounds he made when he came.
No. It wouldn’t be right if he weren’t awake and aware. If she allowed him to continue, she’d be no better than Williams.
Gwen opened her mouth to say something to rouse him, but a moan came out when his thumb brushed over her nipple.
Every muscle in his body tensed before he went perfectly still. He stayed that way for over a minute. Then slowly, his hand slipped away from her breast, and his mouth moved away from her neck.
“Dmitri?”
No answer, but the rhythm of his breathing had changed.
“Dmitri, I know you’re awake.”
He let out a pained sound. “What?”
She shifted around to face him. He stared down at her, his face giving away nothing in the dying light of the fire.
“How long have I been out?” With the curtains drawn, it was impossible to tell if it was night or day.
“Not long, about four or five hours. How do you feel?”
“I’m okay, but my nose and ears are prickly.”
“That’s the frostbite. It should go away soon.”
“Oh.” She thought about the way he’d carried her through the storm, so determined to find a safe harbor. “Thank you. For everything.”
His forehead crinkled as if puzzled by her gratitude. “Nothing to thank me for. I was just doing my job.”
“That’s not true and you know it. You could have left me to freeze like I told you to. It’s not like I would have died.”
“No, but you would have suffered.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin. A look of such longing and frustration crossed his face, but then he blinked, and the emotions vanished. “Go to sleep, Gwenya. You need your strength.”
He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. His broad chest expanded when he took a deep breath before letting it out with a jaw-popping yawn.
Gwen nestled against him, using the crook of his shoulder like a pillow. His arm curled around her, hugging her closer, pressing her against his bare flesh.
Good Lord, was he naked? She knew he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but hadn’t considered what was going on below the waist. Casually, she slipped her hand a little lower beneath the covers until her fingers brushed over a band of elastic.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing, just getting comfortable.” She felt relieved to know he wasn’t completely nude, but now she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of underwear he was wearing.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but it was impossible to sleep when her body hummed with so much restless energy. This was getting pathetic. Here she was, lusting over the man who’d killed her. But the swell of emotions was too strong to ignore. It was crazy, but she felt a connection with him that she’d never experienced with another guy. Odds were, even if he felt the same way, he’d rather die than admit it. Considering their history, why would he act any differently?
“Dmitri?”
He grunted. “What?”
“Will you promise not to laugh if I ask you something?”
One of his eyes cracked open. “No.”
“No, you won’t laugh, or no, you won’t promise?”
“I never promise blindly.”
“Oh, come on, it’s just one little question. You don’t even have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Dmitri groaned. “You’re not going to give up until I promise not to laugh, are you?”
�
��I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”
With a groan, he scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “Fine. I promise not to laugh at whatever you want to ask me. Now spit it out so I can get some sleep.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Great. Now that he’d finally sworn not to laugh, she was at a loss for words to express her feelings. She dragged a hand through her hair while she struggled to form a coherent sentence.
“Do you think that just maybe … I don’t know, for a little while … we could set aside who we were and be who we are?”
“A truce?” She’d been around him long enough to recognize the skepticism in his tone.
“I thought we already had a truce.”
“For now. Then what do you really want?”
“To forget. About the Bureau, and the KGB, and everything else that happened between us when we were human.”
The lines of his brow dipped into a V. “That’s asking a lot.”
“I know. But it’s only for a little while. How about until we leave this cabin?”
She waited for him to answer, her nerves fraying with every tick of the clock. Ignoring the sound of the storm rattling the windows, she focused on the rhythm of his slow, steady breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.” In. Out. In. Out. Just when she thought she’d crack from the tension, he whipped back the covers and got up. “Be right back. The fire’s almost out.”
Gwen let out a frustrated sigh. “I take it the answer’s no?”
He didn’t reply. Crouching in front of the fireplace, he tossed more logs in the hearth and stoked the embers until the flames roared back to life. The light of the fire brightened the room and cast an orange glow over his chiseled body. She drank in the sight of him like a woman dying of thirst. Broad shoulders. Sculpted thighs. Arms corded with muscles.
Black boxer briefs.
Oh. My. God. She could bounce a quarter off that ass. Her body flooded with so much heat it was a wonder the covers didn’t combust.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Besides, why should she? Heavily muscled without being bulky, his body belonged on a billboard.
Dmitri leaned the poker against the bricks and stopped short when he turned toward her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. What’s wrong?” He stepped toward her, and it was everything she could do not to check out his package.
She shook her head while she forced her gaze not to wander. No way would she admit to mentally lusting over the way he filled out a pair of underwear. “Just tired, is all.” She lifted the covers, and the cool air sent shivers across her skin. “Lie down, you must be exhausted.”
Dmitri stopped dead in his tracks. His gaze poured over the length of her body, and it was her turn to ask, “What?” Glancing down, she noticed her own state of undress and flipped the covers back down. “You took off my pants?”
“And two of your shirts.” An unrepentant smile warmed his mouth. “I knew you’d get bent if I stripped you naked, but you needed to get out of those wet clothes.”
Gwen pressed her lips together. Leave it to Dmitri to come up with a reasonable explanation for undressing her while she was unconscious. He was right, of course. Leaving her wrapped in cold, wet clothing would have hindered her body’s recovery. That said, she wasn’t about to strip off what little she still wore.
Settling down behind her, Dmitri slipped beneath the covers. He scooted a few inches closer, his chest pressed against her back. It felt so good to be warm, to be held, that she fought against the drag of exhaustion because she wanted to enjoy every last minute of it.
“I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine,” he murmured a short time later, his breath warm against her hair.
She considered his offer for a few moments before answering. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”
He paused long enough to yawn. “Was there anyone special?”
The question threw her off balance. “What, you mean back then?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious. You know a lot more about my life than I do about yours.”
Gwen stared straight at the fireplace, not sure if she should answer. All these years, he’d never bothered to ask. Maybe it was because he hadn’t thought to ask, but it was probably because he hadn’t cared. Either way, the effect remained the same.
“Yes,” she said at last. She closed her eyes, and an image from the past emerged from the recesses of her mind. Short brown hair. Piercing green eyes. A smile that made her as giddy as a schoolgirl. The particulars were fuzzy after so many years, but the memory still carried enough weight to make her heart squeeze tight in her chest. “But he never loved me back.”
“He was a fool.” The bite in his words was unexpected.
“He was my handler.”
At first, she’d been naïve enough to think he actually cared. He’d said the right words. Did the right things. But as time marched on she came to realize that she was nothing more to him than an asset to be manipulated. The truth hurt more than if he’d put a bullet between her eyes. Still, a part of her continued to pine for his affections up until the day she’d met her mortal death.
Dmitri’s hand lightly squeezed her hip. “Do you honestly think you could have performed your duties if you believed he truly loved you?”
Probably not. Seducing men for secrets had been difficult enough without the hazards of emotional involvement. She couldn’t imagine doing what she did while in a loving, committed relationship.
Curiosity got the better of her. “How did you handle it with Elena?”
He didn’t respond right away. Maybe he didn’t want to answer the question, or he was thinking it through in his head. “It was easy at first,” he finally said, “because we were strangers. But as I got to know her, I grew to love her, and it got harder and harder to ignore. Every time she came home reeking of another man, it damn near drove me insane. To complain would have been considered treason, so I kept my thoughts to myself.” The bitterness in his voice was nearly palpable. “Trust me when I say you were better off without the attachment.”
She understood the sentiment. To live with the knowledge that your lover was with another and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it; she couldn’t imagine the torment. But still …
“At least you knew what it was like to be loved.” Jesus, she sounded pathetic, but she couldn’t deny the way she felt. She only knew what it was like to want and be wanted. Anything deeper escaped her in life, and she never bothered searching for it as a reaper. What was the point when everything came with an expiration date?
Silence stretched between them, and Gwen began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep.
“Are you familiar with the saying about it being better to have loved and lost?” he asked a few minutes later.
“Yes.”
“It’s bullshit. You don’t want to know that kind of pain.”
Knowing what he’d been through, she understood his attitude. He’d suffered betrayal of the worst kind, and in a way he’d never recovered. He still carried the hatred, the hurt, the mistrust, and she yearned for a way to heal his wounded heart.
His breathing slowed to match hers, the tension uncoiling in his large body. “Yes,” he murmured against her hair, his voice sluggish and rough.
“Yes, what?”
“The answer to your question.”
With her mind dulled from fatigue and exposure, she’d almost forgotten the question. To be honest, she’d expected him to refuse her request to set aside their past while they took refuge inside the cabin. But now that he’d agreed, a tiny seed of hope took root in her soul. Maybe, just maybe, they could heal the wounds that divided them.
Dmitri’s arm around her waist tightened, nestling her so close she felt the beat of his heart against her back. “Get some sleep, Gwenya. We�
�ll discuss what that means in the morning.”
Chapter 14
Dmitri’s breath fogged the air as he completed a check of the perimeter. A light snow fell from the sky, while his boots crunched through the foot already on the ground. He searched the area for signs of trouble, but so far the only tracks he’d found belonged to rabbits and deer.
He’d woken around dawn with his arms around Gwen and indecent thoughts filling his head. But mixed with the lust were feelings of true affection, and that rocked his sense of equilibrium. Needing space to think things over, he’d quietly dressed and slipped outside.
Funny how the nightmares retreated whenever Gwen slept beside him. Something about her soothed his soul and quelled the rage burning inside him. It was unexpected, and for the life of him, he couldn’t explain it. But the more time he spent with her, the less he wanted their assignment to come to an end.
Perhaps Gwen was right, and it was time to set their hostilities aside. He didn’t know if it was entirely possible, but the idea was starting to grow on him.
A gust of wind chilled his back as the cabin came into view. From the distance, it looked like something out of a painting. A layer of snow covered the roof, while a steady stream of smoke rose from the chimney. Gwen was probably still asleep by the fire, all soft and warm beneath the blankets. The urge to go inside and curl up beside her crept into his mind, but years of conditioning snapped into place and banished the thought.
For years, he’d shuttered his heart out of necessity and design to ensure he’d never make the same mistake twice. The strategy had served him well, so why bother changing course?
Because you’re tired of being alone? That wasn’t entirely true. He’d enjoyed his fair share of women. But he never let any of them get too close, and if they tried, he cut them loose.
Still, there were times when the loneliness gnawed at him, and he longed for the intimate connection. Like now. His time with Gwen had awakened a need that clawed him with shocking ferocity.
Of course, he’d always had a weakness for strong women, and Gwen fit the description to a T. She was a complex blend of hard and soft, and he struggled to reconcile the ruthless agent with the woman who slept by his side every night to quiet his nightmares. But there was something else about her that touched his soul, an intangible quality he couldn’t explain or ignore, no matter how hard he tried.
