Page 20 of Undercover Shadow
She gasped at the movement, then her mouth found my neck, lips and tongue and teeth working against my pulse point. The sensation of her weight in my arms, solid and real and warm, threatened to bring me to my knees.
“You’re going to kill me,” I muttered against her hair on our way to the bed. My hands gripped her arse, holding her steady.
The bed frame creaked ominously under our combined weight as I lowered her onto the heavy blankets. I followed her down, unable to break contact, needing her beneath me. But as I braced myself above her, gazing down at her face illuminated by firelight, sanity made one last desperate attempt.
“If we do this…” Each word fought its way out. “When we leave here, when the storm passes and the roads clear—this ends.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and pain flickered across her features before she controlled it, and the glimpse of hurt nearly broke my resolve. But I had to be clear. I had to protect us both from false hope.
“I can’t promise you more than the days we’re here,” I continued, hating myself more with each syllable. “I can’t give you forever. I won’t give you marriage or a white picket fence or whatever normal people have. My parents?—”
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice steady despite the tears gathering in her eyes. “And I understand that you’re scared.” Her hands moved to my shoulders, not pushing me away, but not pulling me closer either. “And you need to know that I’m not asking for forever.” Her voice softened. “I’m not asking you to change your mind or make promises you can’t keep. I’m asking for now. Can you give me that?”
The rational part of my brain screamed countless warnings. This would only make leaving harder. This would only cause us both more pain when it ended. This was a mistake of epic proportions.
But looking down at her, seeing the acceptance in her eyes along with the want, I realized I’d already lost this battle. I’d lost it the moment we set foot in this castle. Hell, maybe I’d lost ityears before when I realized that, despite every attempt not to, she was the woman I fantasized about endlessly.
“This won’t end well,” I warned, one last attempt at sanity.
“I know.”
“You’ll hate me when it’s over.”
“No,” she said with complete certainty. “I could never hate you, Tag. Even if you break my heart, even if this destroys me, I could never hate you.”
“Leila—” I began again.
“Tag, please,” she said, tracing a scar on my ribs from a knife wound in Prague, then another on my shoulder from a bullet graze in Beirut. “So many,” she murmured, her touch featherlight.
“Occupational hazard.” My voice came out rougher than intended as her fingers continued their exploration.
I reached for the waistband of her leggings, hooking my thumbs in the elastic. “Lift up,” I said softly, and when she did, I peeled them down her legs, taking my time, revealing strong thighs, the curve of her calves, and the delicate bones of her ankles. The black knickers she wore matched her bra. Neither left much to the imagination.
“Christ.” I sat on my heels, looking at her. “You’re?—”
“Your turn,” she said again, emboldened now, reaching for the drawstring of my track pants.
I helped her push them down, along with my boxers, until we were both nearly naked. The firelight played across her skin, highlighting curves and shadows. I had to close my eyes for a moment against the rush of want that threatened to overwhelm me.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
My breath caught when I opened my lids and witnessed her open desire. I hooked my fingers in her knickers and drew them down slowly.
“Beautiful,” I breathed, meaning it with every fiber of my being. She explored the terrain of my chest with a reverence that made my breath catch—tracing scars from old missions, mapping the muscles with her fingertips like she was trying to memorize me.
I let my gaze linger on her nakedness, keeping her as warm as I could with the scorching heat that flowed through my body.
“You’re staring,” she said, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.
“You’re incredible,” I replied, meaning it.
I lowered my mouth to her neck, tasting the salt on her skin. Her hands tangled in my hair as I moved lower.
“Tag, please,” she gasped, arching beneath me.
Her dark nipples were already hard with arousal when I lowered my head to take one into my mouth.
She cried out, arching off the bed, her nails digging into my flesh hard enough to leave marks. Good. I wanted evidence that this had been real, that I hadn’t dreamed it.
