Page 107 of Crossfire

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

“Answer my question,” he commanded.

Great. Now, my stupid hormones were imagining him commanding me to do naughty things to him with that same tone of voice.

“No.” I’d keep my feelings buried.

Suspicion etched across his face. “What are you keeping from me?”

Wonderful, Ivy. Thanks to your Oscar-worthy performance of a guilty woman on the run, he probably thinks you’re hiding something far worse than feelings and sexual fantasies.

“Nothing,” I insisted, my heart racing.

“If you’re keeping something from me”—he stepped closer with his jaw clenched—“you’d damn well better tell me now. I’ve stuck my neck out, protecting you, Ivy.”

Shit. Surviving an Assassination Order 101: Do not give your assassin turned protector a reason to slam your skull into a tree.

I swallowed my erratic heartbeat, looking up into his smoldering gaze.

“After all of this”—Grayson’s voice dropped to a whisper—“tell me right here and now. Are you guilty, Ivy?”

Suddenly, the sanctuary of space shifted from an asset to a liability on the balance sheet of survival. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, Grayson could do whatever he wanted to me, and no one would be able to stop him.

“We already talked about this.” My pathetic voice came out in a whisper.

His leer swept over my face, and when he spoke, his voice was sharper than it had been before. “That was before you bolted out of the house and into the woods.”

A stronger woman would not allow her eyes to burn with tears right now.

“You actually think that I’m guilty?” I choked.

“Up until this moment? No.”

“I can’t believe after everything we’ve been through, you’re doubting me!”

“Why did you run off then, Ivy?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Answer the fucking question!” he snapped.

“Because I’m falling for you!” My words tumbled out in frustration.

The frosty air whispered through the trees as Grayson stood, motionless, stunned by my admission. The silence stretched between us, electric and charged with unspoken feelings, and then, in a swift motion, he closed the distance between us, grabbing me forcefully and crashing his lips against mine.

A gasp escaped my throat at the sudden impact, but as Grayson’s fingers wove into my hair, holding me against him with an unyielding force, I melted into his embrace. My body molded to his, our heartbeats becoming one.

Grayson’s kiss was a delicious contradiction—fierce yet tender, demanding yet giving. His tongue slid against mine, igniting a fire that coursed down my throat and pooled between my legs, making the space between them throb with need. Iparted my lips further, inviting him to explore and claim me as his own.

As our kiss deepened, I wrapped my arms around him, marveling at the raw strength and power that lay beneath his skin. I traced the contours of his muscles, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of his body against mine.

When Grayson finally pulled back, I couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped my lips at the loss, but as his gaze met mine, the depth of emotion in his green specs made my heart rejoice. In that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist—there was only us, our feelings laid bare in the stillness of the forest.

“That’s why you ran out of the house?” He smirked as this new reality rained over him. Based on the relaxing of all his deadly operative muscles, this wasn’t a lethal offense. “Because you’re developing feelings for me?”

“I don’t want to,” I clarified.

His damn smirk stretched even wider, and he brought his hand up to my chin—holding it between his thumb and finger, as if daring me not to gasp at his touch. His other hand, it was on my hip, so close to the drumbeat pounding between my legs.

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