Page 7 of Enticing Kane

Kane's eyes found Maggie, as they did far too frequently, who was standing in a trench, meticulously brushing away centuries of dirt from a broken column. Even from this distance, he could see the intensity in her expression, the way her brow furrowed in concentration. It was a look he had come to recognize in her—a mix of determination and reverence, as if she were communing with the past itself.

Over the years, his duty had been to neutralize or eliminate threats as opposed to protecting someone’s older sister. But there was no way he’d allow anyone to take on this responsibility. There was something different about Maggie. It wasn’t just her intelligence, though that was undeniable, or her passion, which she wore on her sleeve. It was the way she threw herself into her work with an almost reckless abandon, a single-minded focus that often made her forget the world around her—forget the dangers that could strike at any moment.

That stubbornness frustrated him to no end. Kane was used to working with professionals who understood the importance of caution, who followed orders without question. Maggie, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on pushing boundaries, testing limits. It was maddening, and yet... he couldn’t help but admire her for it.

Kane shook his head, pulling his focus back to the perimeter of the site. This wasn’t the time to be distracted, especially not by the person he was supposed to be protecting. But the truth was, Maggie had been a constant presence in his thoughts since the moment he arrived. She challenged him in ways he wasn’t used to, and that intrigued him. Maybe more than it should.

As the day wore on and the sun dipped lower in the sky, the team began to pack up their tools, preparing to retreat to their tents for the night. Kane stayed on the edge of the site, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. The workers were moving slower than usual, their fatigue evident after another long day under the relentless sun. Kane’s instincts told him that this was the most vulnerable time—when exhaustion set in, and vigilance slipped.

His gaze drifted back to Maggie, who was reluctantly handing off her tools to one of the assistants. She was talking animatedly, her hands moving as she explained something about the column they had been uncovering. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her face flushed from the heat and exertion. Even from a distance, Kane could feel the energy radiating off her.

But with that excitement came the inevitable carelessness. Kane had lost count of how many times he had to remind her to stay within the secured areas, to not wander off alone, to always be aware of her surroundings. And every time, she had pushed back, insisting that she knew what she was doing, that she didn’t need a babysitter.

Kane let out a slow breath, willing himself to remain calm. Protecting Maggie was his job, and he took that responsibility seriously, even if she made it harder than it needed to be. But her refusal to adhere to safety protocols grated on him, not just because it made his job more difficult, but because he genuinely cared about her safety. More than he should.

As the last of the team headed back to camp, Kane took one last sweep of the site before following. The sun had nearly set, and the temperature was beginning to drop, the desert’s warmth giving way to a cooler, more comfortable night. But even as the physical heat dissipated, something else simmered just beneath the surface—something Kane had been trying to ignore.

That night, Kane tossed and turned in his cot, sleep eluding him despite the exhaustion that pulled at his muscles. His mind kept drifting back to Maggie, to the way she had looked earlier in the day, her hair falling loose from its braid, her skin glowing with sweat and sun. He could still see the way she had smiled as she uncovered a particularly well-preserved artifact, the light in her eyes so bright it had taken his breath away.

Kane rolled onto his back, staring up at the dark canvas of the tent. He needed to get a grip. Maggie was his charge, nothing more. And she was a friend’s sister. Men like Kane didn’t have many friends, and they didn’t mess with the sisters of those he’d come to care about. It didn’t matter how smart, or beautiful, or frustrating she was—his job was to protect her, not to think about her in any other way.

But try as he might, the thoughts wouldn’t leave him. He could still feel the pull of her presence, the way she occupied his thoughts even when she wasn’t around. And as he lay there, the image of her smiling face morphed into something more—a vision of her standing before him, not in the dusty ruins of Syria, but in a place more private, more intimate.

In his mind’s eye, Maggie was standing in his tent, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes fixed on him with a look that was equal parts curiosity and desire. She was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of sweat and earth that clung to her skin.

Kane sat up, reaching out to her, his fingers brushing against the soft curve of her waist. Her skin was warm, her breath hitching as his touch lingered. She didn’t pull away—instead, she stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on his chest, fingers splaying out over his heart.

He could feel the quickened beat of his pulse beneath her touch, the tension in the air thick and heady. There was a moment of stillness, of breathless anticipation, before she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a feather-light kiss. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when he didn’t pull back, she pressed harder, her lips parting to deepen the kiss.

Kane’s hands moved to her back, pulling her closer, his need for her eclipsing all other thoughts. The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding, as if years of pent-up desire were being released all at once. He could feel her responding in kind, her body pressing against his, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He broke the kiss only long enough to trail his lips down the line of her jaw, to the soft skin of her neck. She gasped, her hands tangling in his hair as he explored the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. The sound of her breathless moans was like fuel to a fire he had been trying to suppress, and it blazed hotter with every passing second.

His hands roamed over her body, finding the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head in one swift motion. She helped him, lifting her arms and letting the fabric fall to the ground. He took a moment to look at her, to drink in the sight of her standing before him, her skin glowing in the dim light of the tent.

She was beautiful, more than he had ever allowed himself to admit, and the sight of her like this—bare, vulnerable, and completely open to him—stirred something deep within him. He reached out again, this time with more urgency, his hands finding her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She shivered under his touch, her head falling back as she let out a soft moan.

Kane’s lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her chest, her stomach, until he was on his knees before her. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and saw the same desire mirrored in her eyes. Without a word, she nodded, giving him the permission he didn’t need but wanted all the same.

He pressed his lips to her belly, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he kissed his way lower. She shuddered, her breath coming in short gasps, her fingers gripping his shoulders as he reached the waistband of her pants. He paused, looking up at her again, and when she nodded once more, he pulled them down, letting the fabric pool at her feet.

She stepped out of them, and Kane took a moment to appreciate the sight of her standing completely naked in front of him. She was perfect—every curve, every line of her body like a work of art, and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch, to taste.

His mouth found her again, this time lower, his lips pressing against the soft skin of her inner thigh. She gasped, her hands tightening their grip on his shoulders as he teased her, kissing and licking his way closer to where she wanted him most. When he finally reached her core, she let out a low moan, her hips bucking forward as he tasted her for the first time.

Kane’s world narrowed to just this—just her, the feel of her in his mouth, the sound of her moans, the way her body trembled under his touch. He could feel her getting closer, her breaths coming faster, her grip on his shoulders almost painful as she rode the wave of pleasure he was giving her.

But just as she was about to tip over the edge, the sound of something outside the tent pulled him back to reality. Kane blinked, the dream fading away before he could keep it from evaporating. Something was wrong. Grabbing his weapon, Kane slipped out of his tent through a back slit he had created the first night he was in camp.

The night air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the day. The camp was quiet; the only sounds were the soft rustling of the desert breeze and the distant call of some nocturnal creature. The sky was a deep indigo, scattered with stars that seemed to shine brighter out here, far from the lights of civilization.

Kane took a deep breath, letting the crispness of the night clear his head. It had been a long day, filled with tense discussions and the constant vigilance that came with protecting a high-profile archaeological team in a volatile region. But something didn’t sit right with him, something beyond the usual concerns of security and safety. There was an undercurrent of unease that he couldn’t shake, a sense that they were all standing on the edge of a precipice without knowing what lay below.

As he turned to head toward the perimeter, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a shadow shifting near the excavation site. His muscles tensed, every instinct on high alert. The workers were all accounted for, and the site had been cleared hours ago. Whoever—or whatever—was out there had no business being there.

Moving swiftly, but silently, Kane’s steps barely stirred the sand beneath his boots. He kept to the shadows; his eyes locked on the area where he had seen the movement. The night was his ally, and he used it to his advantage, blending into the darkness as he approached.

The closer he got, the more his senses sharpened. He could hear the faint rustling of fabric, the sound of breathing—someone was definitely out there. Kane brought his M27 up into the firing position, his fingers wrapping around the grip with a familiarity born of years in the field. He approached the excavation site, every nerve on edge, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

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