His eyes on her were hot enough to burn. He lowered his head. Their mouths were so close she felt his lips move as he murmured her name. His body rose above hers. She’d never been more aware of the vast difference in their sizes, of how much larger he was, and it thrilled her. His erection pressed against her. Despite his obvious urgency, he prodded her gently, testing her readiness. She shivered in anticipation and arched against him to show him just how ready she was.
Her slight movement seemed to push him to the edge of his control. He swallowed audibly and his every muscle tensed.
Slowly, so slowly, he filled her. Her body stretched to accommodate him and she sucked in her breath at the wealth of sensation. He pulled back then went deep. She dug her nails into his shoulders and when he picked up the pace, moving hard and fast, her vision grayed.
She moved with him, matching him stroke for stroke. She felt his body still, then her own tightened. Her body shuddered as Burke’s did, and they found their release.
* * *
They’d made love on the scratchy burlap couch. Something was currently digging into Eve’s hip. She didn’t have the strength to move. Since John was still a dead weight on her, she figured he was in the same condition. She smiled. If she hadn’t needed to breathe, she would have gladly kept him there for a day or two or forever.
Forever.
The blissful haze that was the aftermath of their lovemaking receded. The reality of their situation returned to her. Eve closed her eyes tight. What had she done?
She opened her eyes and gave his shoulder a nudge that was more forceful than necessary, and certainly wouldn’t undo the last moments. “Burke?”
A few moments earlier he’d been “John” to her. It struck her as ridiculous to return to the impersonal address now, but she was suddenly desperate to reestablish distance between them.
That she had reverted to his last name wasn’t lost on Burke either, Eve noted. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, then he obligingly shifted, taking his weight off her. All the way off. He got to his feet.
Without the warmth of his body, she became aware of the chill in the air. Her teeth chattered. Burke must have heard it because he glanced around briefly then bent and retrieved his shirt from the rug. He held it out to her.
Her own nightshirt was not in sight. Eve looked about for it, then gave it up when she shivered. She took the garment from Burke with a less than graciously mumbled “thanks”.
Though Burke seemed unconcerned about his own nakedness, as soon as she had his shirt in her grasp, he turned away from her, averting his gaze so she could put it on in some modicum of privacy.
Clearly, he no longer felt the intimacy of a lover.
Distance successfully reestablished.
He’d received her message, or been struck by the error they’d made, as she had, and come to his senses. Or, maybe he’d been in the mood for sex and had found a willing partner in her and that was the end of it for him.
Whatever. Good. Good.
But it didn’t feel good.
Hands shaking, Eve donned the shirt. It was no longer warm from his body, but his scent clung faintly to the cotton. Each time she took a breath, she’d be reminded of making love with him. She didn’t want to be reminded of him. As soon as she was back in her room, she would certainly change into something of her own to sleep in.
“We’d better get some sleep,” Burke said.
His tone was firm. There was no mistaking “John” the tender lover with Central Intelligence Agent Burke.
That was for the best. As it had to be . . .
Imposter: Chapter Ten
What the hell had he done?
Burke stared at the closed bedroom door, the intensity of his gaze drilling holes in the scarred wood. Eve had disappeared behind that door a moment ago.
He’d had sex with his prisoner.
He was an officer of the law. Officers of the law did not have sex with the women in their custody. But that’s what he’d done. Compromised the investigation, as a result, and given Eve a weapon to use in court to have the charges against her dismissed.
He made a scoffing sound of self disgust. How could he have been so irresponsible?
How could he have allowed his personal feelings for her—he shook his head, not his feelings, his lust for her—to override his duty?
Against his will, he recalled being with Eve. Sex with her had not disappointed. Rather, it went right off the charts. Mind-blowing. The best he’d ever had.
He turned away from the door and went to the window. The wooden sill jutted out from the wall. Burke braced his hands on it.
Clouds blocked the moonlight. The darkness was thick and his own face reflected back at him in the black glass.
How he could have allowed himself to sleep with Eve no longer mattered. The question now was, what was he going to do about it?
He should remove himself from her presence and transport her to Washington immediately. Then he could get back to his original assignment, his true assignment—hunting the buyer. He was itching to rejoin Lanski and his team in the search.
Eve’s assassin was still out there, however. Burke’s jaw tightened. They’d made no progress identifying that bastard. Until they did ID Eve’s assassin, taking her from the cabin wasn’t an option.
He could call Lanski. Get another agent out here to stay with her. That would accomplish the same thing—taking himself away from her.
He dismissed the idea. His cabin was safe because it was unknown. Wasn’t that why he’d brought her here in the first place? Once he disclosed her location, it would be compromised. Her safety would not be assured. No, calling in another agent was not an option. Burke gripped the windowsill with a strength that stretched the skin tight across his knuckles. He would not risk her safety.
So what would he do?
Nothing.
He would remain at the cabin. And Eve would remain at the cabin. And for whatever time they had left here together, they would stay out of each other’s way.
He heard movement in the bedroom. A drawer opened then closed.
She was still awake.
He listened to her footfalls, thudding softly against the plank flooring. Her footsteps stopped. Next came a creak. The bed frame. She was now on the mattress. If her pattern held true to what he’d observed the night they’d spent at the hospital, she’d soon be asleep. And snoring softly.
He stopped a smile.
And cut off that tender thought.
* * *
He cooked breakfast before the sun was up after a restless night on the couch. Unwanted images of making love with Eve there replayed in his mind and kept sleep at bay.
He ate his meal, left the bacon and scrambled eggs he’d cooked for her on the stove for her to warm when she awoke. Next he showered and left the cabin. He needed to call Lanski and after, would find some activities outdoors to fill his time.
The sun crested the horizon. He looked up at it. Too early to call his second in command on a matter that wasn’t urgent.
Burke looked around for things that needed doing about the place. He’d bought shelving for the storage shed that he’d never put up. Well, it seemed the perfect time to attend to that was at hand.
After the shelving, he worked slowly through a list of repairs he’d wanted to get done for years. At mid-morning, he called Lanski.
“Any development in finding the man after Dr. Collins?” Burke asked.
“Negative. Nothing on finding the buyer either.”
“Okay. Anyone putting out the word about the formula?”
“Negative again. Our Intel has been quiet as a tomb.”
Burke exhaled a frustrated breath. “Keep me apprised,” he said unnecessarily then disconnected.
The day was turning out to be a scorcher. He rubbed the back of his neck where the sun baked him. He needed water.
Inside the cabin, Eve was awake and again, hunched over his laptop, though, she’d moved to the kitchen t
able to work. She didn’t look up at his entrance.
On the way to the fridge for the water, he glimpsed the page open on the screen, and recognized it as one of the profiles on the chemist’s at the conference. Yesterday, they’d downloaded the information from the agency’s database onto his laptop for easy access.
His investigators had been over all of the information and dismissed its usefulness. He and Eve had gone over it all as well with the same result. Nothing would be gained by going over it again.
He thought of telling her that. False hope wouldn’t help her. But then, what was the alternative—no hope? No, he would not strip her of hope. He kept his thoughts about the profiles to himself.
What he wouldn’t keep silent about were the heaping plates of food that remained untouched where he’d left them.
“Why haven’t you eaten?” he asked, his tone sharp.
Eve tapped a few keystrokes. Without looking up from the keyboard, she said. “Not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
She looked up then. “Are you presuming to tell me how to treat my condition?”
Burke’s anger flared. “Apparently, you need someone to do that. If you’re on insulin, you need to eat regularly. Taking an injection and then going for a long period without food can cause a dangerous reduction in blood sugar levels.”
“Oh, really. What makes you an authority on the subject?”
“I read about it.”
“You read about it? When?”
What did it matter? Burke ran a hand down his face. “The night you were in the hospital. I asked the nurse for information on diabetes.”
Eve blinked.
“You need to eat.” His jaw tensed. “The last thing I want is for you to collapse again.”
Eve straightened her spine. “Don’t worry about it, Burke.” She left the table, got a bottle of water for herself which she gripped in a tight fist. “Should I take ill again, this time, I’ll make sure you aren’t inconvenienced.”
“Inconvenienced? You think I don’t want to be inconvenienced?” Burke closed the distance between them. He clutched her shoulders. “You think I’m telling you to eat so you won’t collapse and inconvenience me?” He reached up, framed her face gently between his palms. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. The thought of anything happening to you . . .” He lowered his mouth to hers.
* * *
She should end this . . . stop him . . . all the reasons why she should not let this go on reasserted themselves. Instead, when Burke’s mouth came down on hers, Eve slid her arms around his waist. Clutching his shirt in her fists, she kissed him back.
Her head was spinning as he lifted her off the floor and into his arms. Without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed then braced on an elbow above her and undid the buttons on her blouse. He moved one knee between her legs and gently stroked her. The contact made her gasp, then moan.
“Over dressed,” he said.
She mumbled her agreement.
He shed his jeans, his movements jerky with impatience, then lifted her hips to remove hers. In the blink of an eye they were skin to skin below the waist and the feel of his aroused body against her ratcheted her desire.
She yanked at his T-shirt and when he’d obligingly shed that too, she splayed her hands over the broad span of his chest, then across the ridges of muscle on his abdomen.
Those taut muscles quivered beneath her touch. He groaned, pressed her against the mattress, and covered her with his big body. His mouth fused with hers and he kissed her hard as if he wanted to devour her. She clung to him, entwining her arms and legs around him.
His erection was straining against her, wanting entrance. She wanted that as well, but he drew back, ending the kiss. Before she could protest, his open mouth trailed hot and wet down her body, stimulating every nerve ending as he made his descent.
When he reached her thighs, he parted them gently then slid his hands beneath her, clutching her bottom and brought her to his mouth. The touch of his tongue on her went through her like a jolt of electricity. She threw her head back, arched off the bed, and gasped his name.
She was writhing when he finally moved over her and pushed inside her. Waves of sensation began immediately and she gripped his biceps, her nails digging into the thick muscle there.
He was as close to the edge as she was. His need as fierce. Sweat dampened his skin. His face pulled taut. As she cried out her release, he uttered a deep groan and found his own.
He was lying on top of her now. His chest was heaving as he took in big mouthfuls of air. Face down with his head touching hers, his every breath brushed her cheek. She was sucking in air as well. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of them breathing in tandem, all that she was capable of at the moment.
Her stomach growled.
He laughed and brushed his lips across her temple. “Let’s get you fed.”
* * *
Burke lay awake. Snuggled against him, Eve breathed deeply in sleep. After they’d eaten, they’d made love again. That became the pattern for the rest of the day and into the night. Make love. Eat. Make love. After their last bout of love making, after he’d made sure that her need for food had been again met, they’d returned to bed. He’d brought her tight against his side and with his arms around her, just watched her gently fall into sleep.
She’d been asleep for some time. As for himself, sleep eluded him. He’d made a thorough study of Eve Collins. Recalling how thorough had his body hardening again. But it wasn’t her sexy body that ruled his thoughts now. He’d studied Eve herself. Knew everything there was to know about her. And now he was questioning all he’d learned because he couldn’t reconcile the woman he’d apprehended, the woman in his bed, with the one who would create a weapon for terrorists.
Eve mumbled in her sleep. Burke turned to her. A sliver of moonlight cut diagonally across the bed. It was just enough light to illuminate her face, contorted in an expression of pain.
Burke’s gut clenched. “Eve.” He kept his tone soft.
Her lips moved. Her head thrashed on the pillow.
“Eve.” Burke wrapped his arms around her. “Wake up, baby.”
She cried out and her eyes sprang open.
“Easy. It’s okay. You were dreaming. Just a dream,” he said.
Must have been one hell of a dream. Her breathing was rapid. She was trembling in his arms. Burke brought her closer, pressing her face against his bare chest. His skin grew damp and he realized she was crying.
Keeping one arm around her, Burke switched on the bedside lamp. In the stark light, he saw she was chalk white. Tears still slid down her cheeks. He felt helpless in the face of her tears. Couldn’t stand that something had reduced her to tears.
“Eve, what is it?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched her shoulders as if trying to huddle in on herself. “I was dreaming about the accident.” Her voice was strained. “About Emily.”
He stroked her cheek. “Tell me about it.”
She released a tremulous breath. “We were driving home from buying groceries. Emily was in the back seat. I was crossing the intersection when a truck broadsided us.” Eve’s breath hitched. The brunt of the impact was to the back seat. Emily was killed instantly.”
Fresh tears streamed down Eve’s cheeks. Sobs shook her. Burke wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as tight to him as he could, sharing her pain in the only way he could.
He held her until she stopped trembling, until her tears were spent. Gently, he raised her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed from the torrent of tears. Her grief wrenched his heart.
“Do you dream of the accident often?”
“All the time for the first few years. Not as often anymore.”
He wondered if their recent conversation about Emily had sparked the dream.
“I’ve been over it a million times,” Eve said. “If I’d just done something differently, Emily wo
uld still be alive.”
“You weren’t to blame for the accident. I read the report. The truck ran a red light.”
Eve nodded, but Burke believed some part of her would always blame herself.
Though the last thing he wanted to do was to bring another man into their bed, Burke wanted to know about her husband, about the man Eve had once loved. Maybe still loved. His gut clenched and his next breath came a little shaky.
He knew her husband had been the one to initiate the divorce. From his investigation, Burke had learned that she and her husband officially separated within a few months of the death of their daughter.
She was worn out, though, and he had no intention of satisfying his curiosity at her expense. His questions could wait.
He pulled back, looked into her eyes, his gaze warm and tender. He caressed her cheek, as a smile spread slowly across her lips. He returned that smile. He kissed her softly.
“Do you think you can sleep now?”
She nodded.
He switched off the lamp then rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.
Within a few moments she was asleep again. Not so for him. It would be some time before sleep came to him.
Imposter: Chapter Eleven
When Eve woke, Burke was not in bed. Recalling how she’d cried all over him last night, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. He’d gotten more than the pleasure of a night of love making. No doubt he hadn’t planned on her coming apart on him.
Her own ability to reveal her grief to him surprised her. She always kept her grief over Emily to herself, clutched tight to her. With Burke she’d opened up and shared her hurt. He’d been a rock for her. No matter what happened from this point on between them, she would always remember that last night he’d made the pain over Emily’s death a little more bearable.
Eve left the bedroom. She spotted Burke in the kitchen. He was speaking on his cell phone. When she would have left him to finish his call while she went to shower and dress, he caught her hand.
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