Page 19 of Afraid to Hope

His stared at her intensely, full of heat. “Do you really want to know?”

“I’m a big girl.”

He groaned. “We reluctantly agreed. I dare you to contradict that.”

Natasha swallowed slowly, sidestepping the question. “So, any questions?”

“A few.” Bane dropped his teasing. Time to focus on the tactical situation like the former-special-operator he was. “Where’s the kitchen? Alarm system? Where do you keep your piece? Where are all the exterior doors located? Roof access? Show me around ‘our’ home. I need to be familiar with my surroundings.”

“My gun is currently in my nightstand. No alarm. We’re in a safe neighborhood.”

“Right. But knowing where I am and how to defend that space is part of my DNA. Humor me.”

“Humor you?”

“Yeah, it’s an American idiom for go along with my request even if you don’t see the purpose.”

“Just keep the bathroom pristine, Mr. Rua. And the bedroom door closed.”

“It’s Bane,” he ground out. Fuck, she was mercurial. “Get used to it. You’re going to blow our cover if you call your husband ‘Mr. Rua.’ Are you expecting visitors?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business. The bathroom is used by guests, everyone. Guests are always a possibility. As you just pointed out, we need to be mindful of our cover.”

“I see.” Bane’s voice turned husky. He thoroughly enjoyed throwing her off center again. “Can I use yours? I like the idea of us sharing intimate places.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she inhaled and squinted at him, clearly exasperated, then motioned sideways with her head. “I’ll show you theriad.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bane happily followed her spectacular backside and long legs. “And Nat, it is my business. We’re a team. You’re my partner, and until we are instructed otherwise, my wife.”

Natasha paused and her body tightened, but she remained silent, then continued moving.

Bane appreciated the stately upper-classriad,complete with an expansive atrium open to the sky and containing a large, burbling fountain and attractive trees. The walls were adorned withtadelakt,the waterproof Moroccan plaster, and geometric mosaics. The passage above ran the perimeter alongside the doored rooms and was open to the atrium, and its railing was a screen of intricately carved dark wood that played off the lattice screens throughout both levels. Natasha had the largest bedroom upstairs, up front, close to the tightly winding steps. It was the farthest from his assigned room.

The rooftop terrace was beautiful and spacious, the high wall affording privacy. A pergola extended over half of it, a raised wood deck and comfortable furniture underneath. He made note of the exterior doors (three; two downstairs, one upstairs). Keeping with Moroccan tradition, theriadwas interior focused, without windows, allowing for privacy and protection from weather. A small pool and another pergola shading the outside dining area were features of the well-tended gardens and lawn between the kitchen and the caretaker’s house. The high wall, matching the exterior of theriadand the caretaker’s house, bordered the gardens and lawn and created a fully enclosed space.

“Are you all good now? Comfortable?”

“Shouldn’t I sleep with you? For the sake of appearance?”

Natasha looked like she wanted to scream. “Drop it,” she hissed, then looked away.

“You enjoy our banter. Our foreplay.” He stepped forward and Natasha backed against the wall behind her. Bane casually placed his hands on the wall, bracketing her within his arms but not touching her. She could easily step away if she wanted but she chose not to; he had no doubt she could handle him. He lowered his head. His lips skimmed her jawline, and he felt the goose bumps rise on her skin as his breath skated over her ear. His voice was low and quiet. “Nat—”

She ground out, “It’s Natasha.”

“We will sleep together.” He pushed off the wall and stood straight, looking deeply into her eyes. “I want it. You want it. I’m a patient man. When you can no longer take care of yourself, come to me. I’ll sate you and then fire you up, over and over, sweetheart. You and I?” His finger traced the pulsing column of her delicate neck, then paused, his mossy brown gaze lingering on hers. “We’re going to be epic.”

Natasha drew in a shaky breath and answered, her whisper fractured and totally unconvincing. “Never.”

His eyes sparkled and a crooked, sexy smile accompanied his words. “Never say never.”

She looked as though she was two steps away from firing off a retort, but then she quickly made her way inside and down the stairs. He followed at a more leisurely pace, appreciating the view of her backside again, amused that she fought the sexual heat between them.

Bane stepped inside his doorway and watched her vanish as she took the stairs up to her room. “Sleep tight, beauty,” he said, to himself. “Dream of me. Dream of us.”

The light glowed softly through Clara and Oliver’s window. Instead of turning in, Natasha left theriadand crossed the dewy garden to the couple’s welcoming space. Even when Mémé and Pépé had been living, she often sought the additional wise counsel of Clara or Oliver. Natasha tapped on the ornate wood door, then stuck her hands into the pockets of her skirt, playing with the silver band on her finger while she waited for it to open.

Clara pulled her shawl around her thin shoulders, scanning Natasha with a long look before a smile wreathed in wrinkles broke over her face. “Good evening, dear! I’ll make us some tea.”

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