Page 64 of The Eagle's Vault

When our mouths finally separated, we remained wrapped in each other’s arms. His breath was warm against my lips as he looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you going to apologize for that kiss, too?”

“No.” I could barely breathe, need pooling deep in my core. “I’m not.”

His smile was soft, teasing. “Good. Because I do like smart women. Even ones who cover me in indigo dye.”

I would have laughed if my brain weren’t halfway to the bench. “It was a good color on you.”

“It was fucking brilliant.” He kissed me again, even hungrier, his hand trailing to my ass, pulling me against his hard cock.

I pressed myself against him, wanting more of what he had to offer. Our tongues stroked each other in a desperate frenzy, and a thrill rushed through me as his second hand started tracing the line of my back down to the base of my spine. His touch felt like fire against my skin.

When he pulled away again, his eyes searched mine. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met.”

“I felt the same.” My heart pounded in my chest, the raw honesty sending a burst of heat through me. Not aWhat do you think?or aAre you okay?No, just anI want you.

Rav cleared his throat, announcing his arrival. I jumped, startled, but Declan barely moved—other than to shift his lower hand up to my waist.

A barely-there smirk lifted the corners of Rav’s mouth. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Declan replied, a casual smile playing on his lips. “You just walked in on a very important discussion about the catacombs vault.”

Right. The catacombs vault. Giovanni Ferraro. “What’s the decision, Rav?”

“Scarlett’s agreed for Declan and Jayce to do reconnaissance. Then we revisit with Giovanni.” He strolled over to the stone bench I’d been eying, where a kitten had poked out its head. He knelt to give it a scratch. “There are contingencies and options, but it’s a fair deal.”

The twinge of disappointment surprised me, but I squashed it quickly, accustomed to hiding things like that. Scarlett was looking out for her team, after all. And I wasn’t really part of her team. I’d just fallen in with them and was tagging along while things spiraled out of control.

But now, I wanted to stay with the Reynolds team for a different reason. Declan. Determination flared in my chest. “I’m coming with you.”

Rav smiled. “I had a feeling.”

Declan frowned. “It’s too dangerous, Leigh. I’m not letting you fall any deeper into this crazy disaster.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It was all too familiar, the same patronizing concern Isaac had shown me, keeping me holed up in Rome. The same thing Finn used to do, declaring I needed a man to handle whatever was going on. He’d even had the nerve—after convincing me to take a year off school—to suggest I stop working and get pregnant. I’d told him I wanted to wait a few years, but he expected things of me onhistimeline.

Now it was Declan’s turn. I was good enough to kiss, but not good enough to accompany him somewhere.

“I don’t need to be protected,” I said, sharper than I intended.

“You’re talking about things you don’t understand.” Declan’s tone was final, dismissive.

“So much for the smart girl, right?” I jerked away from him, irritation flaring. “Maybe you can explain it to me in simpler terms.”

“Leigh…” He stepped closer, thinking he was going to toss an arm around my shoulder and magically fix everything. That was what they all did. A condescending ‘Leigh…’ and the reminder I was the fragile little doll.

It could have been a perfect day. But then there were the men with guns, the dangerous smuggler, and now Declan’s reminder that I wasn’t qualified. It was like a splash of cold water on my face, a wake-up call.

I barely knew this man.

But I was no damsel in distress, waiting for a fairy tale ending.

“Fine,” I snapped. Without another word, I marched past Rav, my chin held high. Time to find my own stupid adventure.

Chapter 25

Declan

Hourslater,Ifumedin my hotel room. I yanked open my equipment duffel, the metallic clatter reminding me why I was in Rome. I ran my fingers over the cold steel of my mini-rig drill, its reassuring strength reminding me of what was real and what wasn’t. Black and white. Open and closed.

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