Page 59 of Covert Temptation

ELEVEN

Dante evenly distributed his weight between his palms and his toes, the rest of his body rigid as the second minute of his plank crawled by.

Faint sunlight streamed through the living room windows, then vanished again as the sun slipped behind a cloud. The snow fled, leaving the world much brighter. Today, he and Kennedy could take a walk through the open fields, though he was pretty sure those designer boots wouldn’t hold up to the mud.

Instead, they could sit by the fire again.

The memory of her weight in his lap, the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her sweet perfume that probably cost a fortune but wasjust rightfor her, flooded into his head with another beam of sun crossing the hardwood floor.

He felt at ease in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Telling Kennedy about the team and his family stripped a weight off him.

But not everything felt right. Kennedy didn’t climb into his bed last night.

He didn’t know if he was frustrated as hell or relieved. Either way, he woke alone—and hard as steel after dreaming about her all night long. The strain that simmered in his body had to go somewhere, so here he was, sweating it out on the floor just past 0500.

When he heard a soft footstep, his heart gave a leap.

Kennedy.

He turned his head to see her enter the kitchen wearing an oversized sweatshirt that didn’t come anywhere near hidingthose long, toned legs. Hell—she was barefoot too. Seeing her small foot was a reminder of how she’d thrown her calf over his shoulder as he licked her pussy…

And how she bucked into his lips and tongue when he made her come.

Her back was to him, and she moved with a grace that made him want to stare too long. The little couture queen intrigued him far too much.

He cursed under his breath and aimed his attention to the floor.

Focus.

She rattled around in the kitchen, making a smoothie drink from some ingredients she found in the safe house stash. And now she was humming.

No. Not humming—counting.

Damn, he hated that she felt like she had to be ready to run at any moment.

She scooped powder into a big plastic cup and added something from a carton she’d found in the stores. Then she added water to the mix, topped it with a lid and began to shake it.

He switched to one-arm holds. Maybe the torture would outweigh the throb of his stiff cock at watching her entire body rocking with the shaking motion.

He had to burn this out—this edge. This need.

As she started toward the living room, he dropped his gaze to the floor again. She walked over to the sofa and plopped down.

Last night, he’d cleared away the broken remnants of the coffee table and placed them out back. The open space was perfect for his morning workout…but it was too damn close to Kennedy.

He could crawl two feet and nestle his face between those firm thighs.

“Still showing off?” She settled back on the cushions, then propped her feet on his spine. Like he was a piece of furniture.

He turned his head, sweat breaking out on him for other reasons than exertion. “Seriously?”

She sipped the concoction in her cup. “You broke the coffee table. I need a place to put my feet.”

He grunted. “Fair.” He was about to respond with something snarkier, when his phone buzzed on the floor a few feet away from him.

Saved by his commanding officer.

He rolled out of the plank in one smooth glide and grabbed the phone.

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