Page 39 of Skull

She let her gaze wander. His strong, muscled arms, so capable of lifting her when the world felt heavy, relaxed at his sides. A fleeting memory of the two of them tangled together flashed through her mind. Even after giving into desire earlier that evening, she felt a pull to be with him again. But she also felt the tension that instilled fear in her. She’d trained herself to keep her feelings locked away and her emotions on a very tight leash. Intimacy was always a risk. And yet…she wanted him close.

He turned, eyes landing gently on her. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, swallowing hard before she spoke. “I’m… thinking about everything,” she admitted. Her voice sounded small in the quiet. “What’s ahead for us, for this mission.”

His expression softened, and he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. A callus brushed her skin, rough proof of everything he’d been through for his country. “What’s on your mind?” he asked simply, his voice as solid as the rest of him.

She turned her face into his palm, letting the tension unspool from her muscles. She shifted their conversation from the mission concerns to personal territory, first touching on the elusive question of how they might fit into each other’s futures.

“I’m not going to lie to you about how you affect me. That would be stupid and hurtful, and insulting to you, and you’d see right through it.”

He smiled softly and her heart lurched. How could he want her? She was too empty inside for a man like him. A man with a wealth of love and family showing in everything he did. She didn’t know if she had it in her to consider more than this mission.

She confided in him about how her job kept her in the shadows. “It’s…safe there,” she admitted with a soft sigh. “Easier than risking heartbreak.”

Skull reached for her hand. She tightened her fingers around his for a moment, taking comfort in the gentle pressure. Something about how he looked at her made her feel understood without her needing to rely on any persona, especially her femme fatale one that she’d adopted like armor against his appeal, and even that wonder mingled with an incessant fear of being exposed.

He cleared his throat, hesitation in his voice. “The op…it’s got me thinking about my father again. I keep wondering if I’d be a different man if he hadn’t told me when I was a boy to be a rock. Wonder if my life would’ve turned out differently.” He sighed and drew her closer. “Everything we do in life shapes us into who we are now. Who we will become—” He shrugged. “That’s up to us.”

She pressed closer to him, draping an arm around his bare torso. Her heart ached with empathy. Even if her family life had been so different, she understood the pang of longing for something she couldn’t have. “I’m not close to my family,” she confessed, almost surprising herself with her own openness. Usually, she hid behind a stoic, analytical face, operating from intellect more than heart. But now, here, with Skull, the words flowed. “My mother was…manipulative. I was more like a showpiece she wanted to parade around to snag a husband who could enhance our wealth and elevate us just one more rung higher on the social ladder. As if that mattered at all. An American princess trapped in my mother’s ideal of status. The CIA became my escape, somewhere I could reinvent myself.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Reinvent yourself how?”

She let out a short laugh that held little mirth. “Any way they needed me. A chameleon. I’ve changed my hair, my accent, my entire personality for this job. I gave them everything, you know?” A hint of self-deprecation crept into her tone. “Sometimes, I’m not sure who I really am anymore. Does that…does that make me a soulless assassin or Uncle Sam’s thrall? Or just pathetically hollow?”

Skull reached for her chin and gently lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re a tough, effective operative who overcomes any obstacle. You protect people even if you don’t get the credit. That’s loyalty, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. I know we have a job to do, but we don’t have to let it define us. That’s what we have in common, Walker.”

Gently, he leaned in, pressing a light, comforting kiss to her forehead. She let her eyes flutter shut, allowing the rush of affection to steady her swirling thoughts. Even the mere brush of his lips against her skin reminded her how profoundly he affected her, how safe she felt with him.

She squeezed his hand again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For seeing me as more than just a weapon.”

His lips curved into a reassuring smile. “I see you for who you are, even if you feel you’ve had to camouflage yourself. You can talk to me anytime about anything.”

For a moment, they both sat in the hush, letting reality sink in. There were bigger battles ahead, ones that involved saving Blade’s family and piecing together intelligence for the brass. But for these few seconds, the taste of normalcy, of something tender and real was enough to fortify them.

“I want to be sure,” she said quietly, her voice catching, “of who I am before I lose myself in another identity. Before I lose myself in you.” Her heart thumped, an unguarded moment in the middle of her usually well-fortified existence. “This mission, we’re both in danger of losing ourselves to it.”

Skull’s hand cupped her cheek gently, thumb brushing away the single tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Take your time,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She knew him well enough to trust whatever he said, and she hoped, in the end, he wouldn’t get his heart broken. He drew her into the circle of his arms, and she nestled her head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. She knew the coming days would demand everything—her stamina, her mind, her skill. But here, in the warmth of Skull’s presence, she felt a flicker of hope.

Perhaps the CIA had shaped her, but she wasn’t quite lost. Not as long as there was someone who recognized the real person beneath the disguises and wanted her to stay just as she was.

13

With a soft smile,he reached out and fingered the blue shirt she was wearing, Navy in big gold letters emblazoned across her chest, the cotton soft against her skin. “Is this mine?”

She smirked. “It’s mine now.”

His brows lifted, a gleam appearing in the depths of those spice-colored eyes. “Is that so?” he asked, a challenge in his words, and the previous mission tension was replaced by something just as taut but oh-so-deliciously sensual.

“What are you going to do about it?” she said, lifting her chin with her own challenge, facing that high-voltage stare and a hard-muscled body vibrating with sweet male aggression.

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you, my reckless, little Hummingbird?”

She grinned, uncurling her legs, shoving deeper into his personal space, by sliding around him to ease her suddenly aching breasts against that powerful back and curl her calves over his thighs, intimately fitting her sex against that taut backside. She was wearing nothing but a wisp of lace against her now hot, slick core.

“Right on the edge,” she said, reinforcing that dare by slipping her arms through his, and clawing down his wide chest, over his tightening nipples, those mouthwatering ridged abs to the waistband of those sinful shorts. He shuddered, jolting when her nails ran over his nipples and groaned helplessly as she got closer to the heat of his erection.

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