Page 35 of A SEAL's Protection
“No more playing in the snow for you,” he teases, and his grin is infectious.
He leans down and brushes a kiss across my lips. It’s brief and intimate and leaves me wanting more.
I press forward, and our lips collide, heat sparking as the kiss deepens.
Then he breaks away, his gaze darting to the ridgeline. Always scanning and always alert.
“We’re too exposed out here. We need to get moving.”
His hand slides down my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze that fills me with warmth. I shoulder my pack, and as we head back into the afternoon, something seems easier between us.
16
ALLEGRA
Iscramble over the rocks, sliding on a surface slick with ice. But I can’t keep the grin off my face. It’s done. I have the proof. I have the final sample. I have the research that’s going to prove my theory and ensure I get taken seriously in the scientific world.
But when I glance at Marcus, he’s not smiling.
His gaze sweeps the skyline, his head moving back and forth in a precise rhythm. His unease tethers my excitement.
Marcus stops to check the map. He glances at the tree line on one side and the ridge on the other.
“If we take the ridge, we’ll be out by tomorrow morning.” Marcus rubs the back of his neck. “The forest trail adds two more days.”
My legs are aching from the grueling pace of the last few days, and I lean against a boulder. There might be an opportunity for more samples in the forest where a stream cuts through it, but with the prize sample in my bag and someone sabotaging us, I’m not going to argue.
“Whatever you think is best.”
He studies me with a critical gaze, and for the first time I wish I had a hairbrush. Lip gloss wouldn’t go astray either.
“The ridge will be hard hiking. There might be more climbing, and it’s exposed. But it gets us out of here quicker.”
I stand up taller, ignoring the fatigue in my legs. “I don’t mind hard hiking.”
He smiles thinly. “I’m aware. I bet you’ve never taken the easy option a day in your life.”
The smile reaches his eyes, and he squeezes my shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but strangely intimate. Marcus is the first person who really sees me. Most people assume I’ve had an easy life, and yes, it’s true, I’m more privileged than most. But I’ve worked damn hard in my studies. I’ve never shied away from a difficult research project or long hours. He’s the only person who’s ever acknowledged that.
“Come on.” He glances at the sky. “I want to make good progress before nightfall.”
I fall into step behind him, happy for him to take the lead. It feels good not to have to make all the decisions myself. To trust someone enough to follow them.
The ridge is slow going. At times we scramble over boulders and squeeze through crevices where the earth has carved out small spaces.
But with every footstep we get closer, we get to the path home, and I feel lighter.
The path widens, and Marcus falls into step beside me.
“What will you do with all this research? What’s next for Allegra Simpson?”
“After I’ve given the middle finger to the grants board, you mean?”
Marcus chuckles. “I’d love to see that meeting.”
“I’ll apply again. I need a PhD to be taken seriously in my research.”
He remains alert as we speak, his gaze scanning our surroundings. “And what’s the long game?”
