Yes, Ethan, what the fuck are you doing here?
“I have no idea.” He wanted to stop talking, but her exotic green eyes were the perfect shade of kryptonite. “I shouldn’t be. You should tell me to go.”
Instead she lifted an eyebrow and looked at him like she thought he might be losing his mind. Which, he obviously was. “Why’s that?”
“You saw me kill a man yesterday.”
She considered the statement. “I didn’t see that. I had my head in your lap.”
“You know what I mean.”
She took an even, slow breath. “What I saw was people doing what they have to, to survive. I’m sure the man needed the money that poaching was going to bring in, and I’m sure he knew the risk he was taking. What would have happened if you hadn’t done what Gio asked?”
“That man would have suffered. Gio would have thought I was soft.”
She tucked a lock of her rich chocolate-colored hair behind an ear, her face determined. “You did what you had to. I understand a lot about that.”
When she fell silent, foreign anxiety needled up his spine. He didn’t want her to understand anything about him. He needed to keep his distance. It sure would have been easier to do that if he hadn’t broken into her fucking room.
“What was it the other night when I invited you in?” she asked. “What changed your mind so suddenly?”
His gaze drifted down to stare at the floor. Usually lies rolled off his tongue easily, but they wouldn’t come now. He liked being prepared, but he never thought this situation would present itself. His silence seemed to keep her talking.
“Because,” she continued, “if you’re worried I was looking for something more than that, I wasn’t. I’m not the relationship type, believe me.”
“No, it wasn’t that.” The man inside him was tired of never getting what he wanted. So tired of losing. “I told you, you’re a distraction. I spent the entire sixteen hour flight here trying not to think about you, and failing.” He needed to stop talking before anything worse came out.
Her body stiffened with surprise. “What?”
“Getting involved with you, even just sex, puts a lot of lives in danger.”
She seemed aware of his approach, but didn’t retreat. Now he was only a few feet away, and she strained her long neck to look up at him, a confused expression creasing her face. “If that’s true, again, why are you here?”
“Because it doesn’t matter now. Your life is already in danger, and I’m . . .”
Always in danger? Worthless?
“. . . used to it. And tomorrow we’re going back to Rome.”
He’d gotten too close to her, too close to resist what he wanted any longer.
“You’re going to have to forgive me for the other night.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why’s that?”
“Because you and I have unfinished business.” He threaded his hands through her hair, pulling her up into his kiss.
-8-
She didn’t move under his lips. Ethan moved too fast and hadn’t given her much warning. Typically he commanded absolute control over himself, but the woman before him obliterated it. Her hair was soft and her mouth softer as she allowed his kiss. He parted her lips with his tongue, venturing deeper into her mouth, possessing her.
Stop what you’re doing
, his brain ordered, but he disobeyed. He shifted her head in his hands, tilting it back so he could deepen the kiss. Her palms flattened against his chest, and she sighed like she was surrendering, her hands balling his sweater into fists. Drawing him closer, fighting for control. He abandoned her lips and focused on the spot on her neck just below her ear.
“Oh, so we’re doing this now?” she said, her hands weaving through his hair.
“Yeah, if that’s all right with you.”
He trailed a hand down her neck, over her collarbone, all the way until it was on top of her full breast. She moaned almost inaudibly when he teased her through the fabric of her shirt. Every touch, every taste of her skin choked the logical voice in his head.
Yet touching her through her clothes wasn’t enough. He had to have her bare flesh beneath his fingertips. He wanted to use his mouth on her. The shirt in his way needed to be dealt with.
“This is coming off,” he announced, gripping the hem and yanking up—
Her arms slammed down on her sides, stopping him. “Turn off the lights.”
“You like it dark?” That wasn’t going to work for him, but he could settle for a compromise. His fingers fumbled over the switch on the wall nearby and the overhead light went out, so the only light streamed from a dim lamp on the far side of the bed, casting their shadows on the wall.
“That goes off, too,” she ordered.
“No, it doesn’t.” He worked his hands under her shirt, sliding his palms over the smooth skin of her belly, and she jumped at his touch. Skin on skin. “I told you, you make it hard to focus on anything else, and part of my time was spent imagining you without clothes on.” A big part.
“You’ll change your mind.” It rang from her as a grim warning. What was she talking about? The pads of his fingers traced around her sides onto her back, ventured upward over uneven skin—
His movement slowed to a stop as she looked up at him, a new emotion brimming in her eyes. Fear? She raised her arms and let him drag the fabric up, freeing her. Just the sight of her breasts locked inside the lacy bra was better than what he’d imagined.
But the curious side of his mind would not be quiet, and Olivia’s eyes questioned his hesitation.
“Show me?” he asked.
Jesus, her expression was heartbreaking as she turned away from him. He stayed silent as he evaluated the dark pink ridges and pockmarks marring her skin, some of which had the faint tracks left behind by stitches. The burn marks started just below her shoulders and flowed all the way down, disappearing beneath the belt of her pants.
Ethan had picked up she was ex-military, and he’d seen his share of IED victims. “Iraq?” he asked, his tone quiet, even. “Or Afghanistan?”
“Afghanistan,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He leaned down and skimmed his lips over the crook of her neck, creating goosebumps on her skin. “Good,” he said. “My plans don’t include conversation.”
She startled at his touch again. His fingertips traced the worst scar, the one that cut a diagonal from below her shoulder down to the hip on the other side, but he stopped in the center of her back. He pulled at the hook and undid her bra, and let his hands roam over her patterned skin. Braille telling him the story of how close she’d been when the explosive went off. Olivia was lucky to be alive.
The damage to her body was nothing to be ashamed of. She’d been injured serving her country.
His
country. It tore at his fucking heart. She made a noise of satisfaction when he drew his hands around and pulled her up against him, her back tight to his chest.
Her moan was louder this time when he palmed her breasts, and she closed her hands over his. Her back arched, encouraging him. A smile twitched on his lips. She might want control, but this position made that difficult.
She tasted good. She’d turned her head over her shoulder and yanked him down to her face, and her kiss was intense. She nibbled his lips. One of his hands, followed by the other, fell from her breasts to the belt of her pants, sliding the leather from the buckle. Apparently he wasn’t fast enough, because she pushed his hands out of the way and undid her pants herself, shoving them down to sit low on her hips.
Ethan had never wanted anything more than this woman in his whole miserable life.
When her pants puddled at her ankles, he guided her to step out of them so she was only clad in her underwear. She turned in his arms, slamming her mouth against his.
Like the other night, she was impatient. Her soft hand ran down over his stomach and settled on his belt, and although he wanted it, he also wasn’t ready to relinquish all control to her. Maybe next time he’d let her—
Next time?
There could be no next time. The flimsy mosquito netting parted in his hand and he held it open. He watched every sexy curve of her body as she crawled across the mattress on her knees, turned, and waited for him to follow.
The gun came off first, and he dropped it beside the bed where it would easily be within reach. Next, his sweater and shirt. Her eyes locked with his through the gauzy curtain that was like a soft focus lens on her. He hurried with his pants, and then he was left only in his boxers, ready to join her. More than ready, aching for her.
Her sultry green eyes were large when he moved through the curtain and knelt beside her. Her eyes weren’t focused on his. Her gaze was on his chest, which was adorned with wounds as well. The pads of her fingers touched his shoulder and the pale, circular scar.
“Where?”
“Syria.” Where a bullet had shattered his clavicle. Her fingertips dragged down to another one surrounded by his chest hair. A particularly nasty one, an electrical burn. “Saudi Arabia.”
She skipped over the next scar and lingered near the one at his waist that was only eight months old. So fresh the healing skin still itched at times. That knife had been dangerously close to a kidney. “Germany.”
His scars were in service of his country, just like hers.
The thought burned away when her fingers curled under the waistband of his boxers and urged their rapid descent. Her gaze flicked up to his when she discovered the old scar in front of his right hip, and a smile widened on his lips.
“Kentucky.” His appendix when he was fifteen.
There should have been more foreplay. He wanted to enjoy her and take his time, even though he didn’t have any, since he wasn’t supposed to be here. Yet her hand closed around him, stroking down the length of him, and all thought was gone. The only desire now was to connect and finish what she’d started against the wall of her cabin two nights ago.
There was a condom in his pants pocket, just in case things got out of control, which the man inside of him had desperately hoped for. He fished it out of his wadded pants on the floor. The dark red panties against her skin begged to be removed, and he obeyed, yanking them down her long legs so she was as naked as he was. The sight of her bare flesh drove him crazy with want. Then he moved over her, positioning himself against her body so he could bring them together.
Her long fingers curled on his arms, holding on to him, and her silky legs wrapped around his hips. He advanced on her slowly, hardly able to breathe. And once she was snug around him, she made a noise of choked pleasure.
“Nathan.” It was breathless.
The name caught him unprepared and he froze. He hated the falseness of it when their connection was so acute. His distaste must have shown because her expression turned to steel.
“Tell me your real name.”
“It’s Nathan.” Ankles locked behind his back, holding him to her when he moved to retreat.
“Liar. Tell me.”
Instead, he withdrew a little and sank back into her body. He watched pleasure twist on her face. Just that tiny sliver of movement threatened to overtake his control. Yet she turned her head away from his kiss.
“Tell me,” she ordered, this time with a distinct edge of anger.
“I already did.” His hips surged forward, and their moans mingled together.
“Your name,” she threatened, “or we can stop what we’re doing.”
She might be able to tell he’d lied to her, but the good news was he could do the same with her. This was a bluff. “You’re saying you don’t want me to do this?” His thrust was deep and hard, and she gasped with satisfaction. Her body completely betrayed her. “You want to stop?” he threatened right back at her.
“I just want . . . your name.” His movement seemed to make it difficult for her to speak. “I won’t tell anyone . . . good at keeping secrets.”
“Yeah? What kind of secrets are you keeping, Olivia?”
“I’ve got plenty,
Nathan
.”
“Goddamn it.” He drove into her now. One of his hands found its way to her breasts since he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Her hips shifted and her legs pulled him deeper still, and all of her skin pressed against his. It was unfair for her to not know the name of the man inside her.
“Tell me,” she said on every one of his thrusts. “Tell me . . . tell me . . .”
It tumbled from his mouth. “Ethan.”
Her victorious smile was irritating and sexy. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” he growled. Annoyed and so turned on. “Yes, I’m very
hard
.” He slammed into her and drew a moan that was filled with desperation. Begging for release. His body took over and she bucked beneath him. Nails dug into his back.
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes.”
His breath came and went through clenched teeth, and his only thought was holding back until he could get her where she was sending him to. Her eyes fell closed and her face was pure concentration. He took her hands in his, laced their fingers together, and held them above her head, pinned to the sheets.
“Ethan,” she cried, seizing violently, coming all around him.