Page 105 of Crossfire

I wonder how many people he’s saved because of it, a counter-voice wondered.

Ugh!

No. I would not allow these thoughts to take control. He kills people for a living.

He’s probably saved more lives with one mission than you ever will in a lifetime.

Goddammit.

These flutters had started the first time I met Grayson, and even though I’d tried to stop them, they defied me, continuing even after he tried to kill me. It was like these flutters saw his decision to stop my murder mid-attack as romantic.Please.

And then they apparently viewed a hit man giving a woman advice on how to not be killed asalsoromantic.

Come to think of it, these flutters were what was certifiably insane. I needed to stop them.

Cut to me running out of the cabin into the woods because if I had any hope of reclaiming my thoughts and my morals, I needed distance between me and Grayson. Every moment I was in his presence, smelling his intoxicating scent, captivated by his forest-green gaze, I was inebriated by him.

“Ivy.” Grayson’s voice trailed behind me as small twigs snapped beneath my feet.

Which were freezing, by the way. I should have grabbed a pair of shoes; the socks offered very little protection in the autumn cold.

“I need some space, Grayson.”

“Ivy…”

I didn’t turn around. Instead, I focused on the multicolor leaves cascading among the trees in shades of orange, yellow, and red.

“Ivy.”

When his hand suddenly clamped down on my shoulder from behind, my muscles reacted instinctively, guided by countless hours of training.

In a blur of motion, I seized Grayson’s wrist, pivoting on my heel to face him as I simultaneously torqued his arm, aiming to lock it behind his back in a classic self-defense maneuver.

But mid-twist, Grayson snaked his wrist free from my grasp, his arm slipping through my fingers like a whip, and then he lunged forward, his hands shooting out to grab both of my shoulders in a viselike hold—halting my defensive spin and locking me in place.

“Hey.” He searched my eyes. “What the hell happened in there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“To hell it doesn’t. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

This was the whole problem. I was trying to hold on to how Ishouldbe feeling, but with his hands on my shoulders, the warmth from his touch sent ripples throughout my entire body.

I never imagined I would want to kiss a killer, let alone one who’d been sent to end my life, but I guess the universe could be as twisted as it was ironic, because here I was, studying Grayson with a new lens.

The very qualities that made him lethal to others stirred something else within me…something I wasn’t ready to admit.

His gaze held an intensity that could make even the strongest men tremble. Yet, when his stare met mine, those same eyes softened, revealing a gentle concern and tender affection that made my heart flutter.

The rugged stubble framing his chiseled jaw and sensuous lips added to his dangerous allure, a tantalizing contrast to the vulnerability he’d shown me. His dark, expressive brows andcasually disheveled locks tempted me to let my guard down and succumb to his magnetic charm.

But it was his hands that truly captivated me, in a way no man’s ever had before. Powerful hands that could snap a neck with ease, yet, as I studied them, I couldn’t help but imagine how they would feel against my skin, tracing the contours of my body with a gentleness that countered their strength.

This man was destruction and protection, all wrapped up into a package of model-like looks, a lethal combination that called not to my fear, but to my raw desires.

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