She slipped under the covers. He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her
hair. She caught his hand as her eyes drifted shut, already asleep. The trust factor was immense and it floored him.
She was a federal agent who lived to uphold the law.
He was a killer who’d die to keep her safe.
He blew out a sigh. Hell, his hands were shaking. It had been his idea to stay but he hadn
’t slept with another person in the same room for a long time—except prison where the cell had been packed ten deep with innocent and guilty alike.
He didn
’t know if he
could
sleep with anyone. But he couldn’t leave her vulnerable with this asshole on the loose, taunting her about her sister. She needed some measure of comfort and he needed reassurance that she was indeed safe.
Shit
. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a chair. There was no way he was going to get out of this situation unscathed, but after weeks obsessing about the woman maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe her safety was the only thing that truly mattered.
And maybe he was viewing this situation all wrong. What better way to keep his eye on what the FBI might know than by sticking close to this woman as he kept her safe? The idea felt like a betrayal, but it was justification
enough. He needed to protect her, he needed to fulfill his commitment to The Gateway Project. So being here was a win-win situation. Get over it.
They didn
’t even have to have sex. She might not want sex. She just wanted comfort and the feeling of security you got when someone you trusted watched your back. And she could trust him. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.
He kicked off his shoes and socks and removed his pants, but kept his boxers on. Then he lay on top of the bed staring at the ceiling. He was royally fucked.
Twice, he got up to leave and found himself unable to go further than the bedroom door. He didn’t want her waking up thinking she was alone. Or that he could only be with her for sex.
Mallory shivered in her sleep and he adjusted the duvet higher over her shoulders, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her upper arm. He
’d made an error in judgment being with her before because now she was in his system like liquid heroin and he was hooked.
He was a professional liar, but he didn
’t bullshit himself. He was actually glad the bastard had mailed her those clothes, because now he had an excuse to stick close.
Fuck
.
That was sick.
He really should leave before she woke. Go sleep on the couch and pretend to be a decent human being. That’s what he told himself, but his limbs were welded to the bed and his body stubbornly refused to budge. It felt like his head had been cracked open and his conscience was being laid bare and he didn’t know how to handle it.
Something inside him was shifting.
Years of telling lies and keeping secrets from the people who mattered had eroded the man he used to be. The stint in the Moroccan jail had finished him off
—or so he’d believed. The beatings, the abandonment by his country, his own pathetic failure had made him wish he was dead. By the time The Gateway Project had intervened he’d thought himself past saving, but the human spirit was an incredible thing. The will to survive overrode all other considerations. So he’d agreed to their offer. Agreed to once again work for the people who’d left him in that hellhole to rot.
Somehow, something about Mallory affected him in a way no one else ever had. She made him want to find out if there was anything left of the old Alex Parker. Anything left of the boy who
’d held his grandfather’s hand at that cold Veteran’s Day ceremony all those years ago. Anything left of the soldier who’d been recruited by the CIA after his friends had been killed when betrayed by someone who was supposed to be on their side. And for years he’d made a difference. He had to believe that. He hadn’t just been killing in cold blood. He’d been neutralizing threats to US concerns around the world.
So why did he feel like
nothing but a cold-blooded killer? And if he was just following orders why hadn’t he killed the arms dealer? Or Gerry Rodman? And if he wasn’t following orders what the hell was he doing? Picking and choosing who deserved to live and die the same way a serial killer might? The idea made him sweat.
Mallory turned over and draped her arm
across his chest. It should have made him feel hemmed in or claustrophobic. It didn’t. It calmed him. He wrapped his fingers around hers.
He must have drifted off because he awoke with a
start. It was dark but he instantly recognized Mallory’s scent, warm and intoxicating. Gentle lips traced a scar on his right side—courtesy of a knife and that fucker whose neck he should have snapped.
He let her play, watching her
kiss him as his eyes grew accustomed to the shadows. Teeth scraped feverishly hot skin, nerves short-circuited by lust. She had no idea that no one else had touched him since his incarceration.
Christ
.
She had the power to destroy him. And if she ever found out who and what he was, she would have no hesitation in doing just that. Somehow, Mallory Rooney had complete and utter control over him. All because her sister had been stolen and she
’d looked at him with those big amber eyes and had
seen
him. Not the assassin, not the businessman, but the essence of a man no one else seemed to see anymore.
Tender kisses teased his body and stirred his flesh. He felt like he was being burned alive from the inside out and liberated all at the same time. The feelings she evoked terrified him and he was
actually shaking.
He wasn
’t in love. He wasn’t the sort of man who could afford to love. Too many secrets. Too much death.
City lights shone beyond the drapes, coating the room with soft light. A tongue licked the ugly line from his hipbone to halfway down his thigh. He groaned at the sensual slide of wet flesh against taut skin. Then she wrapped her fingers around him and he squeezed his eyes shut as her mouth closed over him.
“Mallory,” he groaned, desperate for something he couldn’t even name. “You don’t have to do that.”
“
Maybe I want to.” Her smile had fiery lust snaking through him. Watching her go down on him was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. Every muscle clenched against the pleasure she wrought on him. He felt helpless. Her fingers gripped him tighter around the base and her lips milked him.
He was a ruthless killer and she held him literally in the palm of her hand.
It was impossible not to just take everything she was offering. The suction of her mouth grew stronger, the pressure building at the base of his spine coiling like a spring. He was seconds from losing it when that lone brain cell kicked in and he pulled her gently off him.
“
But...”
He pressed his finger to her swollen lips.
“Not yet.”
She nipped his finger.
He stripped the nightshirt over her head and lay beside her on the bed, tracing the rosy circle of her nipples. “What do you like, Mallory?”
Her gaze turned curious.
“What do you mean?”
“
Obviously you know what works for me.” Her in the same room seemed to be enough to get him hard. “What works for you?” He nuzzled her ear.
“
I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before. The usual—you inside me.” She laughed and the sparkle of it punched him in the gut. She traced his scarred eyebrow with her index finger. “Believe it or not, I’m not that experienced at sexual encounters.”
The temperature shot up twenty degrees. He kissed her slowly, teasing nibbles until she relaxed beneath him. His tongue traced the lobe of her ear.
“Anything you’d like to try?”
Her eyes went wide.
“I don’t even know. I don’t think I’m into kink if that’s your thing. The idea of pain and bondage really doesn’t do it for me.” She glanced at his scars just visible in the dawn light.
“
I didn’t get these from sex games, Mallory.” It was the first time he’d been amused by his scars.
“
You said you got some of them in Afghanistan.” She hesitated. “How?”
“
I was tortured.”
Christ
. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Because, all she had to do was ask him the right question and he may as well go home and blow his brains out.
His heart gave a little tumble at the sadness he saw on her face, sadness for him. No one had cared in a long time. Unable to resist he kissed her deeper, holding her chin. He wanted to touch every part of her, to give her pleasure and make her forget the world. He palmed her breast, flicked a calloused thumb over the hard pink tip until she arched against him.
“You like that? Tell me what else you like.”
Her fingers sank into his hair.
“Only if you do the same.”
The thought of Mallory trying to please him made him feel humble and unworthy and as aroused as hell.
“You first,” he said gruffly.
“
Let’s stay in bed all weekend having sex.”
A weekend to explore Mallory
’s sexual boundaries—although he already knew she’d teach him more than he’d ever teach her. Sure he could show her new positions, but she’d already taught him how to feel again.
That
should have been impossible—like a man with a severed spine relearning how to walk.
“
You’re trying to kill me.” He drew one nipple into his mouth, using his tongue on her sensitive skin until she gripped the sheets tightly in her hands.
“
It would be a hell of a way to go.”
He
reared back and smiled into her eyes. “I’m not even any good,” he warned. “Last time you were too drunk to notice but you didn’t even come—”
“
Liar.” She gripped his face in her hands and pulled him down for a kiss. “I wasn’t that drunk, and if you’re that bothered by your performance you can make it up to me now.” The laughter in her amber eyes sucker-punched his heart.
“
You don’t even know me.” His voice was an ugly rasp.
She touched his cheek.
“I want to know you.”
He slid over her and into her, freezing against the fierce pleasure of skin on skin contact. Christ, she was so wet and ready for him he wanted to just pound home.
He withdrew and grabbed a condom from the drawer. “You make me forget. Everything.” He couldn’t afford to let his guard down but surely one weekend with Mallory wouldn’t hurt? It would give the feds time to process the evidence and maybe find the bastard who was taunting her. She sure as hell needed the escape more than he did.
He covered himself and slid deep into her heat. He captured both hands and held them above her head as he thrust into her hot willing body. He never let go of those hands or those pretty eyes as he ground against her harder and she groaned and
moved with him, taking him as deep as he could get.
And it was in that exact moment that he knew he was completely fucked. Having sex with this woman unmade him. Mallory ripped him apart, gutted, stripped him to bones and blood. Made him think he could be anything he wanted to be.
Maybe he was having a breakdown. Maybe he was going insane. All he knew for sure was she’d completely destroyed whoever the hell Alex Parker was supposed to be. All the new Alex Parker cared about was
her
pleasure,
her
well-being. Everyone else on the planet, including himself, could go to hell.
***
Mallory awoke with a start. She’d had the dream again. She was trapped in a small space, terrified someone was searching for her, but unable to move and confront them and unable to run away. Sweat beaded on her upper lip though the room was cool. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she tried to control her breathing.
Realizing she wasn
’t alone in bed she looked over to where Alex lay sleeping. His face was relaxed and younger-looking than when he was awake and aware. After spending most of the night driving her insane, he had to be exhausted. A warm feeling replaced the terror of the dream. Something about him really got to her and she didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was because she’d had to work so hard to get him into bed or the fact he was so damn thorough once he got there.
Actually sex was a bonus.
He treated her like she mattered. Like what she thought mattered. After years of people assuming they knew her because of what had happened to her family, it was great to have someone pay attention to what she said and thought.
Mallory slipped quietly out of the covers and grabbed her robe. She
got herself a glass of water, and checked her laptop, which was set up in a corner of the living room. Nothing from Frazer. She knew she needed to tell her parents about this development with the pajamas but Frazer had suggested waiting to see if the lab found anything before raising their hopes.