“Yes. Probably.”
I sucked in a breath. Well, points for honesty, I guess. But damn, my shame increased by the second. “I’m sorry,” I repeated lamely.
He shook his head, his expression softening. “What did she tell you?”
Mia, he meant.
“She said…” I struggled for something useful to share. Even though I appreciated the insight she’d given me, I had to admit it wasn’t directly applicable to an impeding attack. “She said they understood each other,” I continued cautiously. “That he had a darkness inside him, like hers.”
He stared at me blankly. Okay, that had been pretty vague.
“And she said that he would lash out if we got close.” And we were about to get very close, right up into his business. “So be careful,” I finished softly. “I wish I could be there to have your back, but I understand why I can’t.”
I felt the tension inside him, some internal battle I wasn’t privy to. But he didn’t look pissed anymore, so I wasn’t going to question it.
“There’s a lot of firepower on our side,” he said. “And I’ll probably work better without worrying what trouble you’re getting into.”
I gave him a sad smile, aware it didn’t really reach my eyes. “Come back to me in one piece, okay?”
It felt chilly, exposing myself that way. Admitting my feelings for him went beyond the professional, even though I’d done so without words. Even if he’d already admitted as much to me with his kiss in this very room. But my feelings went beyond the physical as well, and his eyes darkened with the knowledge.
“Samantha, I…” He stopped himself, looking frustrated and a little bit lost.
It made me want to soothe him. It made me want to keep him safe, as if I could. Except I wouldn’t have his back in the raid tonight. Other agents would. More experienced agents would, and that should give me ease—but it didn’t. I’d come to care for him more than I’d have thought possible in a few weeks’ time. I didn’t want him rushing into dangerous situations. Hell, I didn’t want him leaving my side at all.
But none of my wishes would come true. He’d go to the warehouse tonight without me. And when this case was over, he’d move on to the next one. Without me.
He cupped my face, his eyes searching mine. I felt infinitely delicate when he held me like this, as if I were made of porcelain and spun gold instead of flesh and blood. As if I might break. His thumb ran along my cheek, softly, gently, the callused pad of his thumb catching my skin, tugging it, abrading it, sandpaper against silk.
He leaned toward me, and this time our kiss was slow, like the long incline of a warm beach with lazy waves, with languid caresses of his mouth on mine. His tongue nudged my lips, and I opened for him. Relaxed against him, submitting myself to the sweet torture of an unhurried kiss.
It was quicksand, swallowing me whole, one small inch at a time. His hand caught my neck from behind, supporting me, holding me steady for his exploration. He tasted of spiced masculinity with a hint of coffee. My tongue darted into his mouth, seeking more—more of his flavor, his heat. More of the heady pleasure coursing through me.
His hands roamed to my side, my back. They burned through the silk. They scorched my skin. They blazed a path right to my heart—with their odd courtly respect and irrepressible desire. I would never be the same, I realized. Such a small moment to capture such a huge shift.
His hand on my waist.
His lips over mine.
The dust of a thousand files floating all around us like snowflakes.
I loved him then—and looking back, I would always remember the time before that kiss and the time after. Two separate versions of myself, one needy and one fulfilled. He pulled back enough to place warm kisses along my lips with a reverence that undid me.
Over. It was over, but I could still feel him every place that his body touched mine. I still felt breathless and yearning inside. He stepped back with a strange expression. Regretful, almost. And the way his thumb brushed my parted lips before he turned to leave the room…
I stood there, disconcerted and overwhelmed. And suddenly afraid, because that final touch had felt somehow like an apology.
Like saying goodbye.
*
Static crackled over the radio waves. It felt like the noise inside me, absorbed into my bloodstream, pulse harsh and erratic. He’d said benching me wasn’t about punishment, and he wasn’t the sort of man to spare my feelings, but it still felt like a punishment.
The A/C on the van rumbled at full blast, but it couldn’t penetrate the stale lukewarm air. With Lance and the comm specialist beside me, there was barely room to breathe. I took off my suit jacket, and that helped. But between the thick suit skirt and my pantyhose, my body was boiling itself.
“North team, check.”