Page 34 of Poison Evidence

“Fine. Then stay on the deck and I’ll whisper in your ears how much I want to fuck you. How amazing your body felt wrapped around mine. How much my cock wants to be deep inside your wet heat right this minute. How hard I am for you. How it felt to hold you against the shower wall and slide home. You were so slick—”

She yanked off the headphones and tossed them in the corner. She finished tying the bikini bra around her neck and refilled her drink. She went light on the vodka, heavy on the juice. Telling him she wanted him to believe she was getting wasted, but proving she was too smart for that.

Too smart for him.

Ivy MacLeod was the type of woman he’d always been fascinated by. Brave. Forthright. Quick. And that amazing brain. Relationships had never been in the cards for him, but if it had been possible, she was the type he’d have gone for.

She lay back on the bench and closed her eyes. Her body was stiff. She was probably cursing herself. Cursing him.

Much as he wanted to deny it, hehadabducted her. He just hadn’t used physical force or coercion. He was a regular fucking saint, just like Ivy had said.

He deserved her hate. Her revulsion.

Yet…he knew an irrational part of her was turned on by him, even now. He didn’t deserve that, but he’d take it. As he’d take any other breadcrumb she tossed his way. But Ivy MacLeod was too good for a lowlife spy like him.

She deserved someone like Luke Sevick. Much as he liked Luke as a person, he also hated the golden boy. Or at least resented him. Watching Luke fall ass over teakettle for Undine Gray had been a sharp, painful reminder of everything Dimitri couldn’t have.

Chapter Twelve

The conversation on the deck had served its purpose, Ivy reminded herself. She’d needed a way to transition into a working relationship with Dimitri, something that would bridge their morning argument and her orders from the US attorney general to cooperate.

She hadn’t expected to be turned on knowing he could see her but not touch her. Hadn’t expected to be aroused by having his voice in her head when she couldn’t see him.

Well.

But what surprised her most about the whole conversation was…she felt empowered.

There was a raw honesty he gave her. She could hear it in his voice, but it was something he managed to hide when they spoke face-to-face. He was desperate to find hope in his hopeless situation. She’d bet even he didn’t know that about himself.

More important, she’d learned he wasn’t doing this for himself. There were people—presumably family—who he cared about. If Curt could locate them…maybe they could be used to put pressure on Dimitri to cooperate with the FBI.

Of course, that was exactlywhyDimitri hadn’t revealed who they were. But dammit, she hadn’t asked for this situation, and she would damn well do whatever necessary to escape, even if it meant finding Dimitri’s weakness and exploiting it.

Knowing he was vulnerable had shifted the balance of power. She no longer felt helpless.

Plus, she believed now more than ever he wouldn’t hurt her. Again, it was the tone of his words when she couldn’t see his face. She could swear the tiniest hint of Russian accent slipped through, meaning his emotions were getting the better of his control.

She’d been watching his amazing body for a week as he swabbed the deck and otherwise put himself on display for her. As he’d intended, she’d viewed him through a lust-filled lens from the start. But he’d been studying her—reading her articles in scientific journals. Memorizing her IQ and accomplishments.

In the course of that, she suspected he’d developed a respect for her. And that respect was getting in his way.

She suspected he wanted a human connection beyond what he’d been allowed as a covert operative. A connection beyond sex. Sex was merely a placeholder for what he craved.

She imagined his life had been quite lonely, and now he faced what he believed to be his final days. He might be viewing Ivy as his last chance to make that connection.

Or it was all bullshit and she was seeing what she wanted to see. She wasn’t a psychologist—although she’d read enough books on the subject. She was a tech geek, because at least there she could find concrete answers. Except, she’d gone deep enough into mathematics to know even numbers could betray her with outliers or unknown variables. There were problems that far exceeded her ken.

Dimitri Veselov was the ultimate equation, and her future hinged on being able to solve him.

Who was he before he showed up in Palau and became Jack Keaton?

Curt had said the name Veselov was news to him, but clearly he’d identified the photo assomeone.

Dimitri glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes questioning. Concerned. And holding a trace of lust he couldn’t hide. He turned back, returning his attention to the water as he guided them through the Rock Islands.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard. How could she feel attracted to him, even now?

But she did. She’d felt the caress of his gaze in the same part of her body that he’d lavished with attention late last night. Thank goodness she’d instilled the no-touching rule, when just a look could turn her on.

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