Page 117 of Illicit Temptation

“Or we can record our own.” He stops the water and stands there dripping wet.

The vision is erotically phenomenal and burns the breath in the my lungs.

“Let me hear your growly Irish accent,” I struggle to speak.

“You’re mine, princess,”he rasps and turns to grab two towels from the vanity.

That ass...

Looking at something so spectacular, I’ll easily get into character.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Shea

“Not so terrible, aye?” Trace says, giving me a tour of a true woodsy hunting cabin.

Looking closer, I see the charm of the place.

“Come on.” Trace takes my hand, his other hand holding our bags, and steers me down a narrow corridor.

“What’s back there?”

“The bedroom.”

“One bedroom?”

“Aye. And one bed.”

I resist an eye roll. If there were more than one bed, he’d be sleeping next to me anyway.

A boxy room comes into view. It has a cathedral ceiling with dark beams. The far wall faces a thicket of tall trees.

“It gets dark out here, doesn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“And you’re stocked with flashlights and candles?”

“Planning on going somewhere?”

“No. Just concerned about the power.”

“The generator runs on solar cells and there’s plenty of oil in the shed if that fails. We’re only going to be here for a couple of days.”

“Food?”

“That’s the problem. The place isn’t stocked. I have to go into town.”

My heart rate ticks up. “Town? You’ve lived around here. Won’t people will recognize you?”

“I know how to get around that.” He takes out a hat and shades from one duffel. Another large and bulky one sits tucked in a corner.

“Maybe a fake mustache will help,” I suggest.

“Don’t need that.” Smiling, he takes out his wallet. “Inthe past year, I grew in the real thing that my old friends here haven’t ever seen.”

He hands me his military ID and his Leinster House ID, each with the version of the man I met in Vegas. He kept his hair close-cropped and his face smooth, the sharp angles of his jaw so pronounced. He looks fierce and deadly in these ID photos.

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