Page 46 of Resurrection

“Will I?”

She glares at me and snaps the lid off a bottle. “I didn’t pay a massive amount of money and risk getting a jail sentence of myown so I could drop you into the only country completely off-limits. You’ll either end up dead or in prison.”

Jay ducks out, saying nothing more. Smart man knows when he’s not needed or wanted. He’s growing on me. The door clicks closed behind him, which leaves us alone. I wander over to the minibar, feigning nonchalance. She’s not winning this argument. No fucking way.

After removing my gun from my waistband, I slide it across the counter. Then I pluck the bottle from her fingers. The vodka streams straight down my throat. When it’s empty, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

Our gazes connect.

“I opened that for me,” she says.

“I’m a guest in your room. Shouldn’t I get served first?”

“You can’t come to Ireland.” She swallows, and the pulse at the base of her neck jumps. Without hesitating, I brush my thumb against it. She sucks in a sharp breath.

“My contacts, everyone who knows me, they live in the south,” I say. “Belfast is north. I’ll be fine.”

“The FBI—”

“Isn’t the CIA. Weren’t you the person who declared that a bright side?”

“You’ll still be on a watchlist.”

“You worried your document forger isn’t any good?” The gap between us is inching closed. I drink her in. With each breath, her flowery scent invades my senses. We’re on the cusp. Even if backing down is the right thing to do, I have no will to do it.

“I rescued you—”

“And now”—I trace my fingers across her collarbone before sliding them into the bun at the back of her head—“it’s my turn to rescue you from whatever or whoever is trying to hurt you.”

She goes onto her toes, and her forehead touches mine. Her chest rises and falls as though she’s been running. We both knowwhere this is headed. But I need a green light from her. I’m not having her tell me tonight, tomorrow, any day soon, this night was a mistake. She only gets to use those words against me once more, and that’ll be when I’m walking out the door for good.

“The only thing I care about is keeping you safe. I’m coming with you.”

“Finn,” she whispers.

My heart gallops, sure of where this tension is headed. Our lips are so close the slightest movement on either of our parts will reconnect us, send us spiraling down. I slide my free hand up her side, under her shirt and around to trace her spine. When our skin connects, an electric pulse shoots through me. She arches her back, and her gaze flicks up to mine.

“Oh,” she says, as though she’s surprised, as though this wasn’t always the path with us.

“Tell me.” My voice is gruff next to her ear as I tighten my hold, letting her understand how much I want her. “Tell me what you want.”

Chapter Eighteen

Carys

The smart thing would be to ask him to leave my hotel room, to step back, to readjust my shirt. After he leaves, I’ll satisfy my lust in another manner—that’s the smart thing. The tiniest part of my brain still knows that even as the timbre of his voice sends a shiver of desire racing down my spine.

Whenever Finn is this close, my mind short-circuits, and it’s all I can do to remember my name. The sharp, tangy scent of him, the way he worships and devours me, the way his skin slides over mine, makes my senses go into overdrive, hyperaware, poised for release.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, rising on my toes to press my lips against the sensitive spot on his neck.

“I didn’t hear you.” His voice is guttural, on the edge of losing the control he has left.

Glancing up at him under my lashes, I smirk. “Then I guess you should leave so I can take care of myself.”

He deftly releases my bun. “I enjoy hearing you say you want me.”

“You always liked it when I talked dirty.”

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