by Karen Anders
She took a long, shaky breath. That must have been some nightmare.
She was silent for a moment. “It was about you.”
“It was?”
“Yes. You were shielding me and...” Her voice caught. “Death Head killed you.”
“It was just a nightmare,” he said softly. “Death Head?”
“That’s what I call the guy who was strangling you. He was the one who found me in the attic and stabbed me with that drug. He looks like a Death Head.”
“I bet it felt doubly good, then, when you clocked that bastard.”
“Damn good, actually.”
“Therapeutic even?”
“Very.”
“You saved my life. So, thank you for that.”
She moved closer to him, and he really liked the way her body was snuggled up to him. He felt her head move against his shoulder as she nodded.
“I’m going to make it as damn near impossible for him to find you as I can.”
She tightened her arms around him. “This is all so awful. I keep seeing Agent Miller....”
“Don’t torture yourself with that, Sky.”
“What were their first names?” she asked, her voice thick.
He didn’t say anything, not sure if this was good or bad for her. His chest got tight thinking about the two agents. But if she wanted to know. “Miller’s first name was Tom and Strong’s was Mike.”
“Do you know anything about them?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I owe them that much.”
“Tom loved basketball. We would play pickup games. He was really good, and I always wanted him on my team. We played really well off each other. Neither one of us was a ball hog—okay, I was a ball hog, a little.”
She buried her face in his neck, and he damn near groaned from the pleasure of her warm breath against his skin and that she inhaled deliberately as if she was breathing him in.
“His...personal life? Was he...married? I thought I saw a ring.”
“Sky...”
“Please, Vin. I want to know. It’s hard on you. I understand that. But I need to know. He sacrificed his life for me. Please.”
“Yes, he was married to a sweet, gorgeous schoolteacher. He has...two girls. Lexi and Miranda. Randy for short, and she’s a pistol.”
“Oh...God.” She pressed harder against him, and he sent his hands through her hair. “Go on. Mike Strong.”
“Mike was a practical joker, and when I first came to NCIS, I worked with him briefly before I was assigned to my present team. He loved to laugh, was a die-hard D.C. sport fan. Went to any and all games he could and often dragged me along. He was engaged to be married next year to a researcher for the FDA.”
After that she was quiet, and it wasn’t long before he heard her deep breathing. She’d fallen asleep in his arms. It was another sure sign of trust, and it rocked through him.
Trouble. God, he was in trouble here, and it had nothing to do with being hunted by some very determined and brutal Russians.
Before he’d met Dr. Skylar Baang, self-control was his middle name. He wouldn’t have kissed a charge or gone rogue. But damn, she’d done a number on him. She stirred against him, all that softness, and her hand trailed up his neck to his jaw and lingered there as if she was half in, half out of sleep. Was she dreaming about him this time instead of having a nightmare? He liked that better. Dying anytime soon wasn’t an option. She moved her hand up to his forehead and pressed it there. Apparently she was happy with his temperature, because she fell asleep again with her hand still on his face. Trying not to move too much because he was afraid of what he might do, he thought briefly of extricating himself from her sweet grip, and while he was at it, he should try to find his brains.
But he was still exhausted, so he drifted and drifted some more, and then he slept. His rise up from the sweet oblivion of sleep was a lazy meandering of his mind, the limp relaxation of his body, the comforting sensation of Sky against him.
His eyes fluttered open, his every cell coming fully awake and the full extent of his current situation hitting him all at once. He’d turned in his sleep, and his body was completely against hers, from her breasts plastered to his chest all the way down to their thighs. The ease with which a man obtained an erection upon waking up only added to the sudden tension. His dick was hard, and now that he was aware of her, getting harder. She moved, and he gritted his teeth at the pressure on his groin.
He was debating his best move when her eyes fluttered open, her face all but touching his, her hand resting on his temple and cheek.
Her eyes widened, and she went to pull her hand away, but he caught it. “Don’t you need to check to make sure I’m okay?” he said.
She met his gaze directly. “You feel hot to me. Are you always this hot?”
He was hot for her, but he didn’t think that was prudent to say right now. “I don’t have a fever, Sky. This is my normal temperature.”
She felt his forehead, “I guess you don’t have a fever, then.” She went to move away from him, but he tightened his arms.
“I thought this was a mistake,” she whispered. “Me here.”
“It is. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you here...or want more. I’d be a huge freaking liar.”
“By more, do you mean...sex?”
He couldn’t really deny it and evade that question. Honesty was better. “Yes, Sky. I’m talking about sex.”
To his surprise, she didn’t pull away; her gaze just got more direct, and she said, “That’s not a surprise to me. The scientific findings are that men think about sex more than women do. Men have more intrusive thoughts, too—it’s harder for them to ignore thoughts about sex.” Then she closed her eyes as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d just said that.
Well, there was some truth in that clinical description, but it also gave him a bit of insight into the woman in his arms. Inexperienced came to mind or...maybe even a virgin? Did she talk about sex in clinical terms as a way to keep it clinical? Was it about avoidance? If she was avoiding it or not receptive to his advances, he could understand that. But that wasn’t the case. She was wrapped around him right now. She’d melted into him each and every time he’d kissed her. So that wasn’t in question. What was in question was should he pursue this when it was such a bad idea.
He still wanted her.
“I’m going to go take a shower.” He went into the bathroom, slammed the door and leaned against it, giving himself a few moments to get under control. Being professional and smart was getting harder and harder. She was an enticing woman and he was finding it increasingly more difficult to keep his hands off her—his hands, his mouth, every part of his body. He pushed away from the door and ran the water. He was okay to shower with the bandages on. That wasn’t going to be an issue. He unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, letting them drop to the floor. Using one hand to push off his boxer briefs, he kicked them away. He stepped into the shower, trying to ignore the pain. His shoulder joint was tight from keeping it immobile and the wound stiff and sore, hurting like a bitch. He should have taken some more painkillers.
He was crazy to make himself crazy over this woman. She didn’t understand, just like Brittany didn’t understand. Of course, Brittany was all about lifestyle and status. He didn’t believe that was what motivated Sky. Her guard was in place and would probably be even harder to crack. After trauma, people tended to withdraw into themselves.
He washed himself awkwardly with one hand. After he stepped out of the shower, he realized that it was going to be hard to wipe his back and set the towel around his waist.
To top it off, he hadn’t brought any clothes in here with him. He groaned softly at his lack of forethought. She really scrambled his b
rain. He didn’t want to ask her for help, but at this point he didn’t really have a choice. Better to ask than cause his wound to start to bleed again or ruin her careful stitching.
He walked to the door and cracked it a little, and the sounds of rain and gongs filtered through the opening. She was on the floor, bent into a pretzel, staring at the bathroom door. She looked away quickly.
“Sky?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“I need your help.”
“To change your bandage?”
“Um...no. A little more than that.” He sounded distressed and looked even more annoyed.
“What, then?” she said, her voice concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t dry off very well, and I can’t really get the towel around my waist.”
She unbent herself and sat there for a second or two, letting his words sink in. Had he just said he was wet and naked and he needed her to help him? Her eyes widened and she swallowed. She hadn’t seen a naked man. Not really. And, to top it off, Vin was...well, he was irresistible. She was having a very hard time keeping her thoughts on why she shouldn’t get involved with him. He intrigued her and it was hard to focus when she was talking to him. How the heck was she supposed to...function while he was stark naked?
She wanted to know all about him. Something that was foreign to her. She dismissed people, deliberately didn’t ask questions or try to find out too much. She didn’t have time for friendships or relationships.
But she wanted him to understand her, which surprised the heck out of her. Deep down, she wanted that. That someone special to get her, even all her nerdy quirks. It would open her up, this sharing of herself, but she felt compelled to take a chance and reveal more of herself to him.
“Sky? It’s not brain surgery. I’m just a naked guy.” Now he was exasperated.
“But I’ve never seen a naked man,” she blurted out and then covered her face. “Oh, shit.” She felt the heat from her blush scorch her face. The “act” had happened so fast, and it had been so strained and awkward, the guy had gotten dressed in the dark and left so quickly. It had been mortifying. Now she had another mortifying incident to go right with it. “Could I be any more nerdy?”
“Probably,” he said.
She moaned softly. Gah, she’d said that out loud.
“Look, I’ll turn my back,” he said, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers over her. It was hard enough yesterday to see him without his shirt. She had gotten all flustered, especially when she saw that he realized it. When she didn’t move, he said with a sigh, “I’ll manage.”
“No. I’ll do it.” She got up off the floor and approached the bathroom door, her stomach twisting with anxiety and something that made her tingle all over.
He kept the door cracked and handed out a towel to her. “When I open the door, just quickly wrap it and tuck it in front. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, her lungs feeling compressed.
She was ready. It was a simple, easy task—a monkey could do it. But when he opened the door, Sky froze. The magnificence of him struck her dumb. His dark hair was wet and plastered to the back of his strong neck, and her eyes took over with a mind of their own. Her gaze moved from the back of his neck to his oh-so-broad and heavily muscled shoulders and triceps. Thick, solid shoulders that did the trick when a girl needed one to cry on. His upper back was rippled with muscle, ropy and solid down either side of his spine. His lower back was as smooth as his magnificent backside.
“Sky?” he said, his voice strangled.
He’d turned his head and was looking at her over his shoulder. Staring at her. But her eyes had no intention of jerking up to his face. Instead, they decided to take a second look. She leisurely slid her gaze back up until, with a start, her eyes climbed over the stubble coating his handsome face. When she met his eyes, they were hot, very green and scared her in a really good way, making her stomach tighten. Desire. That was what she saw there. Hard, intense desire.
“Sky,” he said again, a little sharper.
She stepped forward after snapping out of her brain freeze and wrapped the towel around his waist. Oh, God, his skin was so hot, soft and moist, his waist rock hard. She had to lean into his amazing ass to get the towel properly tucked. Moving up against him was the only way. He sucked in a breath and stood very still. She pressed her face into his back. Damn, he smelled so good, so clean and male. She’d had no idea that men could be such a feast for the senses.
It took a couple of tries for her to get it done, her hands rubbing up against that ridged abdomen she couldn’t see, but damn, did she ever want to.
She wanted to see all of him.
Even after she’d tucked the towel, neither one of them moved. She wanted to kiss all that wet skin beneath her cheek, press her lips there and take them on a joy ride over all that muscle.
“I’m drowning here,” he confessed, his voice a rough, suppressed kind of growl. “I want you to touch me.”
He was real, flesh and blood, not some sculpture, and she’d been so forward, sliding her hands over him, even if it had been in the name of lending a hand. He could have both of them all over his body. Yeah, she was a freaking Good Samaritan.
“But...” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She wanted to glide along his body and get a good view of his front. If the front of him looked as good as the back...whoa.
He was gorgeous, not just his face with his rather elegant nose, chiseled cheekbones and that mouth, which she so wanted to kiss again and again. He’d put himself in the line of fire. He took care of her. He’d taken bullets for her. He was dedicated to protecting her, and he had the kind of wit she needed in a man. The kind that could challenge her.
She wanted to touch him, nuzzle his neck, lick his skin—get into him, get onto him—and she was at a loss in knowing how to make that happen or in judging how dangerous giving in to those desires might be.
“But what?” she whispered.
“It’s a step into madness,” he said. “I’m not sure we’re compatible. I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. It’s definitely not professional.”
She was taken aback. “You want to get to know me better?”
“Is that a crime?” he managed.
“I guess I thought you were like any other man when presented with a willing woman. Take what you want.”
“Make no mistake. I want you. That’s not the issue. But we’re under a traumatic situation here. I’ve saved your life and am the only thing that stands between you and a bunch of determined, brutal Russians who are willing to kill to get you back. Let’s just...not do this right now. I don’t even know if you’ve ever been...intimate.”
She took a breath and nodded against his skin. “Yes, I have, but it was so miserable and uncomfortable and so embarrassing.”
“It won’t be with me. I promise you that. If you’re with me.”
“What if I want you, too?” That admission made her skin heat and sizzle with the heightened tension that poured off his too close, tantalizing body.
He swore softly under his breath. “I’m not willing to take that step right now. I don’t want you to rush into anything, then maybe regret it.”
He had good points, but right now she couldn’t seem to care. There was no maybe about wanting him. She wouldn’t regret it. She knew all about pheromones, hormones and chemistry. She knew all the scientific terms and all the science behind it. But Vin made her want to experience something more than science. She wanted the magic. Something she’d denied herself for so long. Then she came to her senses, realizing that she was compromising her vow. Gotten lost in the physical sensations and the emotional attachment she was developing for this man.
She stepped back, and Vin breathed a sigh. Her hands shook, and she grabbed a towel to keep them from trembling. Sh
e drew the terry over his back, finding that she couldn’t seem to help her movements as they were slow and deliberate caresses. She felt terribly guilty for wanting what she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She knelt down and dried his calves, shins and feet, before rising and walking around to face him.
When she met his glittering eyes, a soft, deep flash of heat exploded under her skin and washed through her entire body. She reached up with the towel and dried off his face and jaw, being gentle around his cuts. Then his strong throat where his pulse beat just as erratically as hers.
It was a small consolation that he was as affected as she was.
“Bend down and I’ll towel dry your hair.”
He did as she asked, and she ruffled his hair until she got the majority of the water out of it.
When he straightened, his hair a tousled mess around his face, she dragged the towel down his chest, soaking up the rivulets of water that slid over his pectoral muscles. When she touched his stomach, trailing the terry over those ridged muscles, he sucked in a breath.
“I want to kiss you,” he said very softly. “Just kiss you.”
“Do you dare?” she countered, her eyes roving over his face.
“No,” he said. “Not right now.”
That made her smile, and she was sure it went all the way to her eyes because his mouth curved up. He reached out and ran his hands through her hair, then brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek.
“I suppose it doesn’t help that I want you to kiss me?”
“No,” he said. “Not right now.”
She laughed. She didn’t think she’d laughed this much in forever. There was one more quality about him that simply melted her heart. He made her laugh.
“I don’t know how to resist.”
He shook his head, settling some of the spikes into place. “I guess it’s up to me.” He smiled and her heart dissolved into goo.
“That isn’t helping, mister.”
He closed his eyes and took a breath. Easing away from her, he sat down on the commode. She sighed, just a bit disappointed at his formidable control. “Are we going to dance around this subject, then?”
