by Kris Norris
Yet, here Colt was, hand extended, his stomach lodged somewhere up in his throat as Ellis placed her small palm against his, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She wobbled, and he reacted—catching her against his chest.
Holding her, even innocently, clinically, should not feel this good. Make his chest tighten and his damn dick hard. Thank god he had the good sense to ease her away before she felt the thick length against her stomach. Another few seconds, and he’d have been busted.
Might still get caught if she decided to look down—stare at his groin. He’d rearrange his shirt once he was convinced she wouldn’t Peter Pan onto her head if he let go. Because despite everything—the way she’d left. The hurt she’d inflicted that, five years later, still felt fresh. Still raw and bleeding. The thought of seeing another drop of her blood hit the floor sickened him. Made him want to seal her away in bubble wrap until this entire ugly mess was over.
He couldn’t. They needed answers, and only Ellis had those. And there was the part where they weren’t together. Where he couldn’t dictate certain aspects of her life. Couldn’t insist she let him and his team handle whoever had worked her over. That their training surely outweighed hers, CIA agent or not.
Ellis had yet to substantiate those assumptions. Confirm which government agency she worked for—even though he’d given her a chance. A subtle one, but she’d understood what he’d been asking. The way she’d tensed, breaking eye contact. It was painfully obvious she didn’t want to talk, yet.
But she’d have to. Tell them why she’d been in that warehouse. What she’d stumbled upon to get her at the top of some hit list. Who she worked for. But after all he’d witnessed, he didn’t doubt she was CIA. It was the only answer that made sense.
All of that would have to wait, though, because he’d made a promise. And he didn’t break those. Didn’t quit once he’d set his mind on something. And somewhere between the bed and the bathroom he’d promised himself to see to her every need. Whether it was a conscious decision or not, didn’t matter. He’d honor it, regardless. Do whatever he could to ease her pain.
And she was in pain. The way her mouth pinched tight whenever she moved. The slight tremble in her limbs, as if just standing took a toll. She did a decent job of hiding it and, if he hadn’t spent two years intimately involved in her well-being, her happiness, he wouldn’t have noticed the small nuances that bled through her façade. The ones that told him everything she hadn’t. Everything she wouldn’t.
Ellis steadied herself. Though, he saw that it cost her. The sudden paling of her skin. Her increased breath. She was fighting to stay on her feet.
Colt sighed. The girl had always been stubborn, but it seemed her change in vocation had also taken that to a new level. He tsked then helped her step into the tub—sit on the back ledge. Then, he busied himself readying the water. Moving the soap to her side and placing a couple of towels within reach.
Once he was sure she had everything she needed, he turned, looking at her over his shoulder. “Here’s the deal. Jericho left some clothes for you to borrow. I’ll go grab them while you strip down and wash up. Once I have them, I’ll come back. I can help you wrap up in one of the towels, then have you lean forward so I can rinse your hair. That way you shouldn’t feel exposed. Sound good?”
That smile. It wasn’t forced like before or fake. It lifted the corners of her mouth and crinkled a few fine lines around her eyes. Transformed her from beautiful to breathtaking. “You’ve seen me naked before.”
“But that was by choice. You don’t really have much of that, right now. Not when we both know you’ll cold-cock yourself if you try to stand up and wrap that terry around you without me bracing your weight. And I think after everything you’ve endured, the last thing you need is to feel cornered. Even if it is with me.” He walked to the doorway. “But don’t push it. You can’t afford to reopen those wounds. And while we’re at it, don’t push me, either. I can switch from accommodating to all alpha in a heartbeat.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. But like it or not, I can’t afford not to get clean.”
“That’s the deal, El. The only way it’s going to happen. Or are we back to Ice or Jericho joining us?”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”
“Is that a yes?”
That look. Like daggers out of her eyes. There was just something about sparring with her that turned him on.
“Yes.”
“Good. Stay on your ass. I’ll knock before coming back in.”
Closing the door and walking away shouldn’t hurt. Shouldn’t take all his freaking Delta skills to get his feet to move—his head to forget about how Ellis was stripping down as he made for the other room. To focus on grabbing the clothing Jericho had left on his table. And that wasn’t even accounting for trying to move with his damn boner leading the way. Even adjusting it didn’t bring any measure of relief, not that he figured he’d get any as long as Ellis was in his apartment. Fuck, in the same city.
Having the other guys look over at him as he left the bedroom didn’t help his mood any. The smug smiles and knowing glances, as if they could tell he was sporting blue balls. Fuck, for all he knew, his erection was increasing the gravitational force in the room. Weighing down the air until it was hard to breathe.
Or maybe it was just him gasping for air. Feeling lightheaded because despite how hard walking away had been, he knew going back in was going to be even harder. That he’d have to pretend seeing her sitting there, naked, didn’t affect him. Didn’t make him ache to touch her skin—kiss the fluttering pulse at the base of her neck. Hold her in his arms until everything faded away except the beat of her heart against his chest. The whisper of her breath mixing with his.
He’d have to suck it up. Pay homage to the creed that the only easy day was yesterday. And tomorrow wasn’t looking any brighter.
Ice leaned back in his chair when Colt grabbed the pile off the counter. “She okay?”
He rolled his shoulders—used the motion to ground himself. Ease some of the tension straining his muscles. “Still weak, but better. She wanted a shower—” He held his hand up at Ice’s rough inhalation. “Don’t worry. I knew it was too soon. But…she needed something. I let her sit on the back of the tub. Use the hand nozzle to clean herself off. I’ll help her rinse her hair, all without getting her stitches wet or tugging on them. Promise.”
Ice grunted. The man didn’t sound pleased, but he nodded. “I guess that’ll be fine. But if she does anything to compromise her health—”
“You’ll skin me alive, then make a suit out of my flesh. Yeah, I heard you the other night. And I wouldn’t have agreed, except…”
Fuck, he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t get the words to form. Even though she’d insisted they hadn’t raped her—what the fuck did actually mean, anyway—knowing they’d manhandled her boiled his damn blood. Made it hard not to grab Six and hunt the fuckers down. The other man could find them. Colt had no doubts about it. That Six was most likely just following Cannon’s orders. Trying to keep things legal while they worked out a plan—one that wouldn’t land them all in Guantánamo Bay.
Fuck legal.
Ice frowned. “Except?” Another rough breath. “Shit. I never thought to check…”
Ice mumbled a few words that weren’t clear, though Colt had a pretty good idea what he meant. Of course, none of them had probably thought to mention the possibility because they weren’t capable of hurting a woman that way. That it hadn’t really cropped up during their tours, at least not with their own units.
Ice pursed his lips, looked ready to bend steel with his bare hands based on how he fisted them together on top of the table. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital, even with the risks. Or there’s an excellent woman’s clinic not too far—”
“She said they didn’t…” He cleared his throat when the damn words got stuck, again. “She just wanted to wash off the feel, I guess.”
And he’d see that every one of the ba
stards burned for it.
Ice glanced around at the others, pausing on Harlequin. It didn’t take someone with Six’s perception to guess that Ice was remembering how close he’d come to losing her. When he was the one in Colt’s shoes. And while Colt hadn’t been there to help, he’d been briefed. They all had in case anyone from the old organization came gunning for her.
Not happening. Not on their watch.
Ice reached for her hand, smiling despite the slight tremor that shook through him. That only happened when he touched the woman. All he’d done for Ellis the other night—IVs. Stitches—and the man had been rock steady. Yet, one stray thought about Harlequin in danger, and that cool reserve cracked ever so slightly. At least, Colt wasn’t alone in feeling off-kilter around Ellis. Midnight, Rigs, hell, even Cannon seemed inflicted with a similar issue where their partners were concerned.
Not that Ellis was Colt’s. Once upon a time, sure. But, regardless, everyone had their version of kryptonite. Just his dumb luck his was a dark-haired ball buster with more stubbornness than a platoon of soldiers.
Ice nodded. “Call me if she needs anything. She really does need to eat. And take more antibiotics and pain killers.”
“I’ll bring her out as soon as she’s done. Just… Don’t mention I said anything about…” About the fuckers who’d hurt her. The men on Colt’s personal shit list. The ones he was going to hunt down and eliminate. Who were already dead but didn’t know it.
“Please. We’re professionals.”
“Right. Why was I worried?”
He dodged the balled-up napkin Ice tossed at him, then headed back, pausing outside the bathroom. He took a few deep breaths, listening through the door. Water splashed in the background, accompanied by a low groan. Shit, if she was trying to do more than what they’d agreed to…
He switched into soldier mode. No more coddling. Not when it was apparent she didn’t respond to sweet and easy. He’d warned her he wasn’t going to let her push herself, and he’d meant it. And if he needed to be a hardass to accomplish that, he was up to the task.
He knocked, counted to five—insanely fast, but damn it, his control was edgy, at best—then swung the door inward. And froze. Breath held, her clothes white knuckled in his fist because she was sitting there. Shower nozzle in one hand, the other spreading bubbles along her legs—long, toned legs that looked like an endless stretch of soft silky skin. Skin he remembered running his palms along, feeling wrapped around his hips. And damn if he didn’t want it all, again.
Ellis startled, groaned, then slumped forward. He moved. Dropped the clothes and made it to her side inside a second, flat. Another, and he had the towel in his hands, was lifting her to her feet. She was shaky. Barely holding on, as he wrapped her up then sat back down, cradling her in his lap, careful not to put her directly on his damn dick. The one that was still hard. Her increased breath washed across his neck, one small hand connecting with his chest.
Shit. He should have stayed—modesty and his heart be damned. She looked ever paler than when he’d left, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes had returned. As if she’d lost any benefits she’d gained from sleeping for over thirty hours straight. From the IVs and meds Ice had given her.
Ellis drew a few shaky breaths, finally relaxing in his arms. “Guess this is where you lecture me on how you were right, and that I wasn’t strong enough to bathe.”
“Well, I can’t, now. It would make me an ass. But thanks for ruining it for me.” He eased back enough to stare down at her—soak in all that blue from her eyes. At least the punch of fear—the one he’d never admit to—had killed his erection. “You did that on purpose.”
She smiled. Another genuine one that gave him a glimpse of the old Ellis. The one who’d always known what to say to make him feel less like the hardened soldier he’d become, and more like the man he’d wanted to be for her.
“Always did have to have an ace up my sleeve if I wanted to have any hope of being on equal footing with you or your team. Damn Spec Op guys are too cocky for their own good.”
“Especially when we’re always right.”
“No one likes an overachiever.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” He sighed when she shivered. “We should get you dressed.”
“You said you’d help me rinse my hair. And you Delta guys never go back on a promise.”
“That was before you broke the rules—pushed too hard and nearly passed out.”
“I believe the only rules were that I couldn’t open up my wounds. Or get any more. Neither of which happened, so…technically, I didn’t actually break any rules.”
“You came damn close. If I hadn’t come back when I did…”
“Didn’t you used to say that almost didn’t cut it? That no one cared if you almost died or almost got shot?”
“Do all women have your kind of memory or are you special?”
She tensed at the last word. Special. That’s what he’d used to say to her. That she was special.
Ellis shrugged it off. “Women never forget the important stuff. How else can we make a man suffer?”
“Trust me. You have infinite ways at your disposal. Fine, let’s get your hair rinsed off.” He spun, still holding her close, then reached for the spray.
“Wait. I’ll move over or you’ll get wet.”
“You can hardly balance on my lap with me bracing most of your weight. You’ll keel over on the edge. Besides, it’s not like I’ll melt if my pants get wet.”
She stared at him from behind a tangle of long eyelashes, clearly assessing him before sighing then leaning forward. He lifted one hand, brushing all her silky soft hair forward—exposing the long smooth line of her neck.
The marks behind her ear were slightly clearer from this position, the lines just touching the edge of her hair. He couldn’t imagine what had happened to push her down this road—turn her away from MI. She’d always excelled at gathering intel. Had a way of briefing people that put them at ease—gave them a vivid picture in their heads of what she was describing. And her facts had always been spot on. That’s why she’d moved around as much as she had. Damn near every commander had requested her. And, yet…
She’d left. Joined some clandestine unit, as Jericho had put it, and become an agent. Christ, was she a spy, now? Infiltrating enemy strongholds? Going undercover? Was she some sort of assassin?
None of that sounded like her. She’d always been about the intelligence side of things. Defecting to the CIA as an analyst made a warped kind of sense. Nothing he ever would have guessed, but not completely out of the realm of what was possible. Picturing her going into the field…
Made him wonder if he’d ever really known her. If anything they’d shared had been real. He’d assured Cannon that she couldn’t have been a plant. That Colt would have unearthed the truth. That they’d been too close, too much in love for her to hide that much of herself from him. But now…
He wasn’t sure. And the damn uncertainty was killing him.
Another low groan. Hardly more than a whisper, but he felt it through to his soul. She was hurting. Obviously in pain from being bent over. But…she didn’t move. Didn’t try to straighten. Instead, her muscles tensed as if she was fighting through it. Using some of the tricks he’d learned to overcome the discomfort.
He let the shower head slip into the tub, then snagged the other towel—draped it over her head as he eased her upright. She connected hard with his chest, limbs going limp in his grasp.
“El? Shit.”
Ice was going to have his fucking balls.
Colt swung his legs over the tub, surging to his feet, when her fingers wrapped around his forearm. So damn small compared to him, they barely covered half of the width. But it stopped him cold. Had him looking down into her eyes.
She smiled. Weakly. But it loosened the bands around his chest. Allowed him to draw in a shaky breath. “You weren’t gonna leave me naked, were you?”
“You’re hurt. Probably pu
lled out some more damn stitches. I’ll lend you another shirt once you’re back in bed and Ice takes a look. Fuck, I never should have let you talk me into this.”
“I’m not bleeding, and I don’t need Ice. Sheesh, were you always this much of a nursemaid? I’m—”
“I swear, if you say fine, I’ll paddle your ass.”
“Didn’t know you were into kinks, now, baby. But if that’s how you roll…”
“Not getting distracted by all that sass, sweetheart.”
“Busted. But…honestly. I’m—”
“Ellis Marie—”
“Okay. Shit, I was going to say okay. Christ, you don’t need to pull out the big guns. Use my middle name. All I want is to put on some clothes, then, I’ll go back to bed. Or eat, or whatever.”
He glared at her, watching her face for any hint of deceit, but the girl was unreadable. The agent side of her bleeding through.
“You can’t even stand, but you think you can get dressed without smashing into the tub? Fat chance.”
“Put me down, and I’ll show you. Put that fifty bucks you lost to the test. Easy money, right?”
He shook his head but gently placed her on her feet. She swayed but managed not to tank into the sink or the wall as he retrieved her clothes. She arched a brow, motioning for him to turn around, but he snorted, then crossed his arms on his chest. Gazes still locked. Shoulders drawn back, chin high. If she insisted on being this stubborn, acting like a brat, he’d respond in kind.
Her lips quirked. “What happened to not cornering me?”
“If I turn around and you go sideways, it’ll be more than just a concussion when you smash your head on the tub. Or the sink.” He shrugged. “I can’t catch what I can’t see.”
“No one asked you to catch me.”
He didn’t reply, just stood there. Staring her down. Ellis rolled her eyes then leaned against the sink, bending just enough to step into the pants—tug them over her hips.
Knowing she was bare beneath the sweats prickled heat along his skin. Increased his breathing. When she dropped the towel, altogether, to slip into the bra, he thought his damn heart was going to stop. Or burst out of his chest because she was all pale skin with a hint of pink-tipped nipples atop perk breasts. They looked smaller, matching her leaner frame, but just as beautiful. As fucking tempting as before. And god help him, they were hard. Tight little buds begging to be sucked.
