Page 72 of Turn the Tide
Flexing for some stupid reason, he stepped into the confines of the shower, sharing the hot spray of water. The ceiling was low, requiring him to hunch. His choices were to face the wall like a punk, or face her like the badass he used to be.
He chose her.
God almighty, she was beautiful. Shimmering eyes, perky breasts—small handfuls that would please his palms—and long legs. Between her thighs, she was nearly hairless with only a small landing strip. He was the luckiest cursed bastard on the planet. Water sluiced down the feminine line of her statuesque figure, kissing every inch of her pale skin. He drank her in, never wanting this shower to end.
An inappropriate and inconvenient heat kindled in his groin. The temptation to touch her the way he’d yearned for years, to have her up against the wall and in the bed, was excruciating.
She stepped in between his spread feet, and her arms went around his waist, her supple body flush against him, her cheek pressed to his chest, her palms to the scars on his back.
All the air left his lungs as if vacuumed out.
Was she creeped out by the texture of his scars? Forcing herself to make this awkward situation tolerable? Hiding her body from his gaze? Warming them faster so she no longer had to endure the sight of him undressed?
Shit.He was shaking and not because he was cold.
She squeezed him tighter, tighter, tighter, burying her face in his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled, testing his lungs. Her silky softness and lush curves melded to him. His muscles uncoiled, relaxing.
She peered up at him through the water. Soft color infused her cheeks. Her shiny brown eyes went wide, full of dreamy pensiveness, and the acute awareness that she would never be his was devastating.
Unfortunately, his growing erection didn’t get the memo. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Just a physiological response.”
A half smile illuminated her face, but she didn’t shrink away. Her gaze fell to his pendant. “You still wear it?” Her voice was quiet.
“Always. St. Jude saved my life.”You saved my life, Ash.
“Patron saint of impossible causes. I thought it was the perfect choice to watch over you.”
“Speaking of impossible causes, why are you running?”
“I opened the files on the thumb drive. The Agency had me steal—”
“I don’t want to know,” he said, cutting her off. “Don’t need to. It doesn’t matter.”
She frowned, nose wrinkling. “In the wrong hands, monstrous things could be done with it. How can you say it doesn’t matter?”
“Maybe the CIA wants to keep BioGenApex from doing bad things with it. Maybe they plan to do horrible things with it themselves. It doesn’t matter because the job, as an operative, is not to reason why but to complete the mission.”
Eyebrows drawing together, she gaped at him. “Are you kidding me? I have a moral responsibility—”
“I told Sanborn you weren’t cut out to be in the field.”
She stepped back, severing all contact with the expression of a hardened soldier. “I am capable. I completed the mission.”
“No. You didn’t. The mission was not opening the file and transmitting the data to Langley. That was the job. You failed.”
The water steamed around them. Her chest heaved, enticing his gaze to drift over her body. Need tightened in his throbbing cock, and his sanity started unraveling. But he swallowed back his lust like a dose of castor oil and forced himself to meet her stormy eyes.
“These are extenuating circumstances,” she said.
“What’s required of an operations officer is tough. Nonnegotiable. There’s a stringent protocol for a reason. You signed up for this. Begged Sanborn to be a ronin for an imperfect institution that does questionable things.”
Bewilderment shrouded her cute features. “Ronin? A wandering samurai?”
“The movie with Robert De Niro?Ronin. A bunch of operatives are tasked with stealing a mysterious briefcase and safely delivering it. They run around chasing people, killing people, trying to survive and through it all, they never learn what’s in the case.”
“Why the hell not?”
