Page 72 of The Agent
He climbed in beside her, making the mattress dip as he rolled over and hauled her in against him. “Hey, now I won’t feel guilty that I don’t play. I’ve found an even better use for the piano.” He nuzzled against her shoulder, rubbing the scruff of his chin over her skin.
“Mmm, that feels good. Like a loofah.” She squirmed in his arms to give him access to more of her back.
“A what?”
“A scratchy sponge. It exfoliates your skin.”
“So you’re hinting that I should rub my chin over your back?” His voice was amused.
“Only if you want to make me purr.”
“Oh, I definitely want to hear that.” He grazed his soft whiskers over her shoulder blade and toward her spine. She rewarded him by humming in the back of her throat.
He rubbed a little longer before he kissed her shoulder and settled on the pillow.
Natalie drifted in a pleasant state of satiation, warmth, and contentment with the press of Tully’s body against hers. She didn’t need to feel guilty, because this was just the aftermath of great sex.
“Now Ireallydon’t understand why you’re not married,” she murmured. She felt the flinch in his muscles and smiled. “You need to stop jumping every time I say that word. You know you’re safe from me.”
“Like I said, I’m not cut out for marriage.” It was one of his stock answers, meant to deflect serious conversation.
Suddenly, she wanted to know the real reason. She twisted in his arms so she was facing him, so close that she could see the bands of silver and gray in his eyes. “That’s garbage. You have every quality that makes a great husband. So what has kept some smart woman from snapping you up?”
He smiled an easy, meaningless smile. “Maybe the right woman hasn’t tried.”
“I’m sure a lot of women have tried. After all, you’re rich, successful, and great in bed.” Her tone was wry.
“Thank you, ma’am.” His tone matched hers.
“So why?” She prodded him in his shoulder with her index finger.
He rolled onto his back. But he kept one arm around her so she was still against his side. “Hell, Nat, all kinds of reasons. You know that marriage is complicated.”
She remained silent, waiting.
He blew out a long breath. “You’re a tough interrogator.”
He slid his arm away from her and hitched himself into a sitting position, stuffing a pillow behind him against the headboard. Natalie sat up as well, wrapping the sheet over her breasts and curling her legs under her.
Tully gave her a straight look. “When I was in the FBI, I liked the risky assignments. I saw how many of my fellow agents ended up divorced because their wives couldn’t hack that. As for being a dad, I was likely to end up injured or worse. It wouldn’t have been responsible parenting.”
“You aren’t in the FBI anymore.”
“I can’t sneak anything past you, can I?” He smiled crookedly before his mouth settled into a grim line. “Okay, sweetheart, here it is. I come from a family of addicts. My mother and father were alcoholics. My father played the ponies with the rent money. My brother belongs to Gamblers Anonymous ... when he’s not at the casino. My sister”—his eyes held deep sorrow—“overdosed on drugs two years ago despite several stints in rehab.”
“Butyou’renot an addict.”
“Don’t kid yourself. I told you I’m an adrenaline junkie and I was dead serious. I can’t live without the rush that comes of running into a bad situation with a gun in my hand.”
“You don’t do that now, though.”
“Not often.” He sighed. “I miss it.”
“But that’s not the same as drinking or gambling or drugs.”
He looked away. “Addiction is in the genes. I’m not passing my crappy DNA on to some poor innocent kid.” He turned back to meet her gaze. “Marriage means children, and I willneverhave kids of my own.”
“You could adopt.”
