Page 27 of The Agent
“Nope.” His tone was casual, but she saw a flicker of pain in the depths of his eyes. He took a sip of wine, then said, “I was in foster care my whole childhood.”
“Caleb, I—” Marley’s words caught in her throat. “That must have been hard. What about close friends?”
Caleb’s features creased with pain. “One. But he died a few months ago.”
Her heart squeezed, just as it did in the hospital whenever she encountered a particularly sad case. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
A lull fell over the room. Marley tried to focus on the food in front of her, but it was hard to ignore the flicker of sorrow on Caleb’s face. She wondered how his friend had died, but didn’t broach the subject. And he didn’t share the details, making it obvious it wasn’t a conversational path he wanted to venture down.
But his grief…she couldn’t turn away from it. Couldn’t ignore it, either. It was her fatal flaw. She saw someone in pain and felt compelled to help them. Setting down her fork, she slid closer to him, surprising them both when she lifted her hand to his face and traced the strong line of his jaw with her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured again. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. When my mom died, it nearly tore my heart out.”
Caleb covered her hand with his, but didn’t move it away, just kept it pressed to his cheek. Slowly he turned his head to meet her gaze, and what she saw there stole the breath right out of her lungs. Heat. Lots and lots of heat, mixed in with that cloud of grief. His eyes dropped to her mouth.
He wanted to kiss her. His intentions were so clear they might as well be scrawled across a billboard in downtown San Diego. Yet he didn’t make a single move. His cheek was hot beneath her palm, his hand just as warm as it covered her knuckles.
“Are you okay?” Her voice wavered.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “No,” he said roughly. “I never seem to be okay when you’re around.”
She didn’t know what to make of the cryptic comment, and he didn’t give her time to try and decipher it. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Marley’s entire body trembled. He tasted like soy sauce and wine and something distinctly male. And he kissed as if he actually gave a damn about kissing. Other men went through the motions, shoved their tongues into your mouth and made the appropriate groaning sounds, all the while wondering how they could move on to the more entertaining part of the evening.
Caleb, on the other hand, took his time. His lips and tongue toyed with her. He licked and nipped, as though he was sampling a mouthwatering dessert, a flavor he wanted to explore. Marley stroked his cheek, her hand tingling at the feel of his shadowy stubble chafing against her palm. Feeling bold, she slid her tongue into his mouth then retreated to sweep it across his bottom lip. She took the surprisingly soft flesh between her teeth and bit down gently, eliciting a low moan from deep in his throat.
He broke the kiss, tilting her head with one big hand so he could press his mouth to her neck. “You’re a very dangerous woman,” he rasped against her feverish skin.
She laughed. “Me? I’m the furthest thing from dangerous.”
He left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, his tongue traveling back to her lips, parting them and delving into her mouth again. This time, when he deepened the kiss, he brought his hands into play. They drifted down to her breasts, cupping the aching mounds through the fabric of her T-shirt, his thumbs flicking the nipples poking against her bra. Little sparks ignited in her belly, blazing a path up to her breasts, making them swell and tingle.
“No,” he disagreed, pulling back so that his warm breath fanned across her lips. “You are dangerous.”
With reluctance practically oozing from his pores, he dropped his hands from her chest and slid away from her, his broad back connecting with the edge of the sofa. “Which is why I need to focus on this delicious meal before I do somethingstupid.” To punctuate the remark, he picked up his fork and speared it into the nearest carton, bringing out a tangle of spicy noodles.
“How about we skip dinner and go straight to dessert instead?”
The brazen suggestion flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. Once she’d said it, though, she knew she didn’t want to take it back. Her breasts were heavy, achy. The tender spot between her legs quivered with need. Looking at Caleb, in the blue shirt that clung to his washboard abs, the dark hair falling on his forehead, the lust swimming in his eyes, she knew he was the only one who could soothe the ache.
The fork fell out of his hands and clattered onto his plate. He swallowed hard. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?” She gave a wry smile. “Isn’t sex always a good idea, according to guys?”
He coughed at the wordsex.“Most believe that,” he admitted. “But we’ve only just met, Marley.”
He was right. She’d known him less than a week. But already she felt a connection to him. When he looked at her, she felt light-headed and vulnerable and so totally aroused. What would be so wrong about falling into bed with this man? She was old enough to know that sex didn’t equal love and marriage. Sometimes it could just be about two people who were wildly attracted to each other, taking pleasure in what the other had to offer.
“Do you always date for at least six months before you sleep with someone?”
“No,” he said. “But you’re different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know.” His features furrowed with a hint of despair. “You just are.”
She looked at him, and there it was again, that streak of white-hot chemistry, threatening to consume her whole. She wanted this. No, sheneededit. Needed to feel wanted and appreciated. Needed to lose herself in this one passionate moment and forget about the stress and headaches of the last three months.
