Page 64 of Stealth Mission

Walt is a powerful man. He’s big and built like a machine. Approaching six and a half feet with broad shoulders, cut biceps, and powerful legs. His body has scars. Tattoos. Years of work and wear.

His skin tells a story that’s infinitely more interesting than mine and leaves me with thousands of questions.

I can’t believe we just had sex.

In his truck, on the side of the road, no less.

Not that I’m a virgin, but I don’t know this man from Adam.

I press my knees together as the burn of embarrassment starts to flame in my chest.

I guess I did wait too long to have sex. I lost all control.

As the truck idles, I suddenly wish we were somewhere I could pace around, but it will surely seem weird if I leap out of the truck.

Talk about weird after-sex behavior.

I groan to myself and laugh. It sounds as awkward as it feels. “This is kind of strange. I don’t know what to think about right now.”

His head slowly cants my way as he opens his eyes. “Give me your hand.”

Nervous, I slowly extend mine. When he lifts it and presses a kiss to the back of my knuckles, my heart flinches.

Gulp.

A kiss.

Even though my heart tightens, the band around my chest loosens. I take a few breaths, and with each one I feel a little better.

I say, “I’m sorry, this is all new for me. I don’t do this kind of thing.”

He rubs his thumb over my hand. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

There’s a sincerity to his tone that makes me feel a lot better.

He’s a good guy.

A protector. A man who cares about my safety.

Trying to lighten the mood, I smile. “Look at us, all serious. We just had great sex.”

He just gazes at me.

My cheeks heat more. And I ramble more. “I know we just met, but some people wouldn’t consider it that big of a deal. People have sex all the time. For all kinds of reasons. I don’t know what’s going to happen down the road, but right now, nothing is wrong.”

Walt’s gaze becomes a stare stare. Unblinking.

I reach for his face. “I’m fine. I hope you don’t feel like you’ve done something wrong.”

As he feeds his fingers between mine he tightens his grip. Holding our clasped hands against his chest.

Swallowing, he looks out the window for a beat.

In the space of time he looks across the green fields beyond the truck, I imagine all kinds of crazy things.

But I do not expect the storm in his eyes when he turns to me. Or the words that grate out of him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

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