Page 34 of Covert Temptation

When he returned to the living room, he found Kennedy had taken a seat on the couch, legs crossed as she sipped her steaming coffee.

A beam of light highlighted the smoothness of her shin.

Those damn legs.

He took a seat at the desk and opened his email. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her shifting positions, propped up on a pillow with her legs stretched out in front of her.

He flicked his gaze away from her legs—long, bare—to her face.

And found her already watching him.

The soft bow of her lips curving into a knowing smile hit him square in the chest. A teasing gleam danced in her dark eyes. “Why are you giving me that scowl, Dante? You seemed to like me just fine at three a.m.”

The mischievous lilt in her voice told him that she knew, maybe better than he did, how unbalanced he stood on that fault line of desire.

He jolted to his feet. “I’m going to shower.” For the second time that morning.

This time, he’d make it cold enough to sting.

* * * * *

The bathroom door clicked shut, and thirty seconds later she heard the low rush of water. Kennedy pictured Dante without meaning to—the spray striking his sculpted back, water sluicing down his strong hips and that carved ass that had driven her wild the night before.

Her brain skipped backward, mentally tracing the ridges of his abs all the way down to his impressive, straining, stiff cock, and the way his eyes darkened as he pulled her beneath him like she belonged there.

She curled her toes into the edge of the old couch and tucked the blanket tighter around herself in an effort to feel less exposed, physically and otherwise.

Besides the occasional splash of water hitting tile and the never-ending whisper of the wind, the house was silent.

She let her head fall back on the cushion, staring up at the ceiling. The plaster had soft swirl patterns common in older houses, and she traced them while her mind took a trip backward to the night she shared with Dante.

She was still buzzing. On a scale of one to ten, she would rate the sex as mind-blowing. And the way he didn’t tell her to leave afterward, brushing his fingers over her skin and pressing an occasional kiss to her temple, left her withallthe fuzzy feels.

But what made her feel warmandfuzzy was waking up to the wall of muscle that was Dante’s body, a shield between her and the door.

And now he was in the shower for the second time in an hour, probably not even thinking about her as he rinsed the soap from all those muscles.

Her gaze drifted to the desk at the far corner of the room. A low electrical hum came from the laptop, and she realized with a small start that the screen was still glowing.

For all his discipline, like waking up at five a.m. for a workout, he didn’t take the precaution to turn off his equipment.

He’d left it where anyone—namely her—could access it.

She shifted on the sofa. Curiosity flooded her veins, mingling with the afterglow she was still experiencing. Dante didn’t make mistakes. Did his leaving the laptop on and unattended mean he trusted her, even a little bit?

She slipped off the sofa, leaving the blanket behind, and drifted to the desk. As soon as she slid into the seat, she started to pull the device closer to her.

She stopped. Dante was a SEAL. Nothing escaped his attention.

He was also an intel specialist. He’d know she was poking around regardless.

Maybe he wouldn’t find out right away. But if she moved the device even a millimeter, he would know.

Stretching out her fingers, she let the tips hover over the keys for a long heartbeat. Then she jumped in headfirst. Quickly, she created a new guest login. When the system offered wallpaper options, she selected her favorite—cherry blossoms. The flowers always reminded her of Japan, and she loved Japan. She and Alyssa had traveled to the country several times for various meetings and conventions.

Thinking of Alyssa brought a tiny ache to her chest, like pressing on a bruise that was too deep to heal. Alyssa might have told her she didn’t hate her, but it was clear they weren’t the friends they once were.

As soon as she could open a new search window, she hurried to check her social media. She’d gone weeks without access to anything but the SEAL team’s emergency call number on that burner phone. She had a lot of catching up to do.

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