Page 46 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

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Peter woke to the soundof banging above him. Footsteps echoed through the small basement as someone walked on the rotting wooden floor overhead. A piece of woodthunkedas it hit the floor and shadows danced in the narrow shaft of light.

Georgia slept on as the rummaging got louder and closer to the entrance to the underground room. Peter’s muscles tensed as he readied himself to put her on the floor. If the plank covering the opening moved, he needed to have his hands free to deal with whoever came down the dirt stairs.

A male voice called out, asking how many pieces of wood were needed. Peter heard a distant answer then a dissatisfied grunt from the man above. He knew there wasn’t much salvageable up there. Even if they took the walls of the shack apart, they probably weren’t going to get enough wood.

A loud crash on the floor above caused dust and dirt to fall into the cellar. Georgia startled awake, her mouth opening on a scream, but he felt her tense and pulled her head close, putting a hand over her lips to prevent her from making any sounds. Her wide, fright-filled eyes peered at him over the edge of his palm. He smiled slightly to reassure her and took his hand away slowly, touching her lips with his index finger to tell her to remain quiet.

She nodded and tried to get off his lap, but he stopped her by firming up his grip. The wrinkle that appeared between her brows told him she didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let her up.

He leaned down putting his lips next to her ear and whispered softly, “Don’t move.”

He’d move her when and if he had to. He thought it likely the scavengers above would leave, if the two of them kept still and quiet.

She nodded again, settling back onto his lap, but the wrinkle remained.

He waited for anxious or questioning glances, but none came. As the seconds passed, he realized she wasn’t going to question him at all.

She trusted him. No hesitation, no uncertainty, no reservation.

He’d lived for so long without having that bedrock of reciprocal trust in anyone or anything, he’d forgotten how powerful a force it was and how it could change you. His soul had been isolated, alone, and unable to show itself to anyone for so long, now that it could, it was staggering around inside him like a drunk.

There was little he wouldn’t do to keep earning her trust.

A chunk of icy regret smashed into him. Would she continue to trust him when she found out the truth? That he was more than a photojournalist?

Would she continue to trust him if she figured out it was an erection she was sitting on and not something else?

Their eyes met and he felt himself begin to drown in her blue depths. He wanted to kiss her. Deep, diving kisses, over and over again, until only desire filled her face, not fear.

The footsteps moved away, and Peter could hear the scavengers talking in the distance.

“They’re leaving,” he whispered. “They couldn’t find any decent wood here.”

She shifted.

“Keep still for a couple more minutes. I want to be sure they’re gone before we risk making any noise.”

She copied his technique and put her lips next to his ear. “Ok.”

Her breath wafted over his skin, warm and sweet, and he resisted a powerful urge to turn his head and take those enticing lips that were oh so close. Hunger gnawed at him. He wanted to drink from her luscious mouth, taste her and nibble on her delicate skin. Fighting his conscience, he dipped his head filling his nostrils with her drugging scent. She smelled like woman and desire. His pulse increased and his breathing deepened.

He had to get her away from him. His senses were on overdrive, the need to survive, to protect heightening his awareness of everything around him. Including her. Everything in him screamed at him to keep her safe, to keep her close, to touch her. As far as his instincts were concerned, she was his. But the conversation outside continued unabated. They could make no sound and move nowhere.

Georgia stared at him, her hands clutching his shirt, her eyes no longer questioning, but asking. For what, Peter wasn’t sure, but he could no longer deny the need clawing its way out of him. He no longer wanted. He needed. Slowly, he lowered his head, giving her the chance to turn away if she wanted, but she didn’t move. He set his lips on hers so that they barely touched.

Soft. She was so soft.

He lifted his head to gauge her reaction. She blinked and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. The sight of it drove him over the edge.

He took her mouth, searching out and finding her teasing and tantalizing tongue. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, feasting on her like a starving man. She made several small noises in the back of her throat, and he ravenously swallowed them all.

She wiggled, and the fire roaring in his groin flashed through his entire body. He hauled her closer, pressing her torso against his. He wanted to put his hands on her, on her skin, soak up the warmth of her.

Her hands went around his neck and her fingers laced through his hair.That’s right, pet me.

She pulled back and whispered, “Are we safe now?”

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