Page 50 of Toxic Vengeance

She wanted to. She desperately wanted to, given how strained things had become between them lately. “Wish I could, but no. I’ve only got a few hours.”

He didn’t say anything else on the way home, but she could feel the silent tension rolling off him, and her own stomach tightened in response. This mission couldn’t have come at a worse time for them, but she couldn’t stay.

Knowing she’d disappointed him yet again, she braced herself for cool indifference once they reached the house, but the moment he locked the door behind them, Brody grabbed her and pinned her up against the wall. Relief and desire hit her all at once. She wound her arms around his neck, staring up into his beautiful brown eyes.

His mouth came down on hers, and it was like a lit match touching accelerant. Heat exploded between them, punching through her whole body. She lost herself in the moment, in him. His taste, his scent, the feel of that long, lean and powerfully built body straining against hers.

They tore at each other’s clothes, dropping them in a messy trail on the hardwood floor as he wrapped one arm around her hips and carried her to their room, kissing her with a desperate passion she shared. Her back hit the duvet and he came down on top of her, his urgency making the need sharper, deeper.

He used his intimate knowledge of her body to his advantage, doing all the things that shot her arousal to red-line level. She was on the verge of exploding when he entered her with a single hard thrust. He was relentless, restricting her movements with his weight while hitting all her sweet spots in a bid to push her up.

Then he held her there, his eyes full of molten heat as he pinned her beneath him. “Say you need me.” His voice was raspy, full of need.

“Need you,” she gasped out, quivering.

He gave her what she needed. She flew over the edge, soaring, her cries ringing off the ceiling. All she could do was cling while he surged in and out of her, low, throaty groans of pleasure tearing from his throat before he shuddered and moaned aloud, his whole body cording.

Slowly they came back to earth together. Trinity cradled him to her, sliding her fingers through his hair, tracing the muscles in his back and shoulders.

After a minute he withdrew, rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms, tucking her face into the curve of his neck. “I love you,” he murmured, sounding half-asleep.

“Love you too,” she whispered back, her throat tightening. She did love him. More than anything. But this mission wasn’t something she could walk away from. Shehadto do this, had to see it through. And thankfully Brody loved her enough to never stand in her way.

He fell asleep within minutes, but she couldn’t. Gently extricating herself from his embrace, she used the washroom and then went into their walk-in closet to pack a new bag.

Catching sight of her naked reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall, she stopped to study her reflection.

She was no longer the firm-bodied femme fatale the Program had created so many years ago. The operative who had seduced and killed dozens of targets. That life was over now, yet she would always bear the scars.

Her gaze dipped down to the curve of her belly, lower, to the hysterectomy scar just above her pubic bone. A constant reminder of what had been taken from her. A reminder of a cold, sterile room and a stainless steel table beneath her. Restraints around her wrists and ankles. And blindingly white lights overhead.

At the time she’d believed them. That it was for the best. She’d given her consent, not understanding how much it would matter to her now.

They’d taken so much from her. She wouldn’t let them take anything else—not from her, and not from the others.

Looking down at her left hand, she touched her thumb to her ring one last time. This mission to go after those behind the Program put her relationship with Brody in jeopardy, but she couldn’t walk away now. For better or worse, she had to see this through, no matter the cost.

She slipped the ring off and set it in her special jewelry box on the shelf.

“I knew I should have gotten you a size smaller. That way it would be harder for you to take it off,” he said in a wry voice from behind her.

She focused on Brody in the mirror, leaning a thick shoulder against the doorway. He’d given up on pushing her directly about getting married, switching to the occasional pointed remark tempered with humor. “You know I can’t wear it on—”

“I know.” He crossed to her, no hint of anger in his tone or expression, but she knew it disappointed him that she wouldn’t set a date, and her taking her ring off was a reminder of that. Wrapping his thick arms around her middle, he set his bristly chin on her shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror. “You okay?”

He somehow knew that seeing Rosie today had been hard for her. “Yeah, fine.” He’d told her over and over that it didn’t matter if they couldn’t have a baby together. That he’d be totally fine adopting one day if that’s what they both wanted. But that wasn’t the point.

“When this is all over, you’ll go away with me for a while? Just the two of us.”

God, he was so wonderful, putting up with her. “I’d love that.”

“Good.”

Silence stretched between them, and it made her uneasy. “You know why I have to do this, right?” It was important for her to know that he understood.

He ran a hand over her hair, kissed the side of her jaw. “Yeah, I know. Just be careful. You’re the only fiancée I’ve got.”

She gave him a smile, her heart twisting at the unspoken yearning in his eyes. For just a moment she let herself imagine standing in a wedding gown, Brody before her in a tux while a small gathering of his family and their close friends looked on.

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