Page 8 of The Wrecked One

“Trying to kill the mood with talk of Hugo?” She arched her brow.

“Just making sure you’re okay and really want this, and the heat out there didn’t get to you.” It was wildly warm out for February, even for Thailand.

Lifting her hands between us, she fisted my white T-shirt. “Remember our first time together?”

I laughed as my palms wandered from her face down to her shoulders. “I don’t need a photographic memory to not forget that night.” Or any other with you. “Also, even if you delete those images from the camera, they’ll be forever stored in my head. Thank God for that.” At her smile, a touch of her teeth showing but no dimple, I added, “But yes, Ireland. You slipped into my bedroom that night after Carter finally came to from being sick . . .”

“I stood by your bed, took off my clothes, and asked to sleep next to you.”

She finished my trailed-off words like I’d hoped she would. I loved hearing her describe that night. And I wouldn’t mind her narrating every other time we’d been together, her voice playing along with the pictures in my mind.

“Remember what you said?”

Now she just wanted to hear me talk. Same page, buttercup. I looped my arms around her waist as she stared into my eyes. “I said I’d sleep next to you as long as we could leave the lights on. Not that I had plans to sleep.”

“Scared of the dark, my ass.” She chuckled, and bless that sound.

“I wasn’t about to pass up spending the whole night with you in my bed and not be able to see you. You know, for some, seeing is believing. And it sure as hell was for me.” I’d been shocked, to say the least, at her “waving the white flag” moment, taking the first step to stop pretending she hated me, and giving in to desire.

“It’s still daylight out now, so I guess you won’t need to make that request about the lights.” She angled her head toward the bedroom.

Good point, but we couldn’t risk an audience. Not that anyone could see into the room, but we could never be too careful. After all, we were undercover to take down the worst enemy we’d yet to deal with.

I quietly followed Mya into her bedroom, my heart pounding all the way into my ears. I wasn’t sure why, today of all days, she’d decided to give in to what we’d been fighting since day one of this mission, but I didn’t need an answer. I just wanted her.

Inside the bedroom, curtains already drawn, she switched the lamp on by the bed, and I closed and locked the door.

Am I dreaming? Is this happening? Part of me was waiting for her to change her mind, to come to her senses and decide this was a reckless move. We’d be resetting our count back to zero on how many days we’d gone without misbehaving, and that’d be a very Mya thing to point out.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she quietly stood in front of the queen bed, slipped her sandals off, and wordlessly removed her sundress. It fell to her feet, and my eyes skated over her stunning figure.

I waited for her to free herself of her nude strapless bra and matching panties, and once she did, only then did I go for the button of my khaki linen pants.

“You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you? Learn to fly if I had to.” Shit, I hadn’t meant to voice my thoughts out loud.

Standing naked before me, Mya’s brows tightened and her mouth opened, not quite into a full O-shape, but I was worried I blew it. Blew my chances with her. She’d panic, grow concerned I wouldn’t be able to pretend to be her trusty sidekick who lacked feelings for her after this, and assume I’d ruin the mission.

The problem was, she was probably right.

I highly doubted I could reset the clock back to zero and make it another thirty, fifty, or God help me, seventy-six days without holding her again.

“This is a mistake.” She padded toward me. “But after seeing those photos today, and how you . . . how you see me . . . and feel about me,” she murmured, “well, I just don’t care.” And with that, she hooked her arm behind my neck, pressed up on her toes, and kissed me.

2

MYA

Condom.

Birth control.

And Oliver pulling out right before he came.

Check. Check. Check.

I could never be too cautious when it came to avoiding getting pregnant. What had started as plans of releasing our pent-up tension and having sex once wound up becoming an entire evening of making up for lost time.

---