Page 18 of Undercover Shadow
“Tell me about Idris when you were growing up,” he said into the quiet. “What was he like as a brother?”
“He was…” I searched for words to capture someone so complex. “Protective. Brilliant. Infuriating.” A smile tugged at my lips despite the ache in my chest. “He taught me to pick locks when I was twelve. Mum and Dad were furious.”
“Sounds like him.” There was warmth in Tag’s voice, real affection. “He talked about you constantly. Every mission, every dead drop, there’d be something about his little sister. How proud he was. How smart you were. How he worried about you.”
“He talked about you too.” I raised my chin and turned in his direction. “He said you were the most honorable man he’d evermet and that if anything happened to him, I could trust you with my life.”
“He made me promise…”
“I know.”
Tag shifted and dropped his arm from the sofa to rest around my shoulders.
I leaned into him, fitting myself against his side. His arm tightened, and he exhaled as tension left his body.
“He wanted me to be happy,” I said quietly.
“He wanted you safe.”
“From what? From living?” I leaned away enough to see his face. “Tag, I chose this life. I chose Unit 23. I chose to follow in his footsteps not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Every decision I’ve made has been mine. Not his. Not yours.Mine.”
“I know,” he said as though the words hurt him to say. “God help me, I know.”
We stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in blankets and each other’s warmth. Neither of us suggested moving to the bed; we were nearer the heat where we were.
“Tag,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I wish you could see me differently. As a woman.”
His hand found mine under the blankets, and he wove his fingers with mine. “I’ve always seen you as a woman.”
His thumb moved against my palm, and my breathing went shallow.
“Leila.” My name sounded like an oath.
I shifted an inch closer, but it was enough. Our cheeks touched, and he shuddered. His free hand came up to cup my face with heartbreaking gentleness.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, but his actions contradicted his words as he traced the line of my jaw.
I tilted my head toward his. “I know.”
For an instant, we hovered there, lips barely an inch apart. Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, the space between us disappeared.
The kiss was nothing like the desperate collision on the stairs. This was slower and deeper. His hand tangled in my hair, holding me like I might disappear. Every line of my body fitted against his as we shifted lower, lying on the blankets beneath us.
The sound that came from low in his throat conveyed surrender. He rolled us so I was beneath him, his weight pressing me against the floor.
His hands framed my face, then slid down to my shoulders, my waist, leaving trails of scorching heat through my clothes. I arched against him, my own hands exploring the broad expanse of his shoulders, the strong column of his neck, the silk of his hair.
“Leila,” he breathed against my lips, then trailed kisses along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. I gasped, and my fingers tightened in his hair.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I whispered. The confession tore from me. Even though I knew it might break the spell we were under, I had to say it.
His eyes were black with desire as he leaned away to look into mine. “You have no idea,” he said roughly. “Watching you, wanting you, telling myself all the reasons I couldn’t have you.”
“Stop telling yourself anything,” I said, arching up to kiss him again. “Stop thinking so much.”
