Too Late

That may be normal practice for her around here, but it just feels like I’m stepping on a landmine by being out here while she’s not technically in a bathing suit.

I reach the edge of the pool and stare down at her, but she still won’t look at me. The water is covering most of her face, but with the light from inside the house, I’m able to see the redness in her eyes.

It’s kind of fucked up if you think about it. She’s upset that I might be messing with other people, but all the while she’s sleeping in another man’s bed every night.

Hell, she fucking kissed him just to spite me earlier.

But I get it. And I don’t blame her, because I know how much she was hurting. How much she is hurting.

And that’s the hardest part of this. It’s not that I’m about to have to convince her that I really do have feelings for her. The hardest part is knowing what she feels right now as she doubts them.

If I could just come out and tell her the whole truth, it would make things so much easier. But that’s a violation of my job. It would be disobeying a direct order from Ryan. And as unstable as Asa is right now, the less Sloan knows, the better.

When Asa mentioned Tillie in the kitchen, the color completely drained from Sloan’s face. I could have killed him right then and there.

Sloan fans her arms out and kicks her legs, giving herself a push back toward the middle of the pool. “He forgot to turn off the pool heater this weekend,” she says quietly. “It feels really good. I think I might just stay here forever.”

Her voice is sad. I want to kick off my shoes and dive in the water and stay there with her forever. Just not in this pool or at this house.

“What’s her name?” she asks, still quiet and staring at the night sky.

I squeeze the back of my neck, wondering how much I should actually reveal. “Tillie.”

She laughs, but not because she finds it entertaining. “Is she your girlfriend?”

I sigh. “She’s just a friend, Sloan. Sometimes she does favors for me.”

Sloan’s whole body sinks under the water. She sinks all the way to the bottom. When she emerges, she’s shooting daggers at me. It isn’t until I see the look on her face that I realize what I just implied.

I bring my hands up behind my head. “Not those kinds of favors, Sloan. Jesus.”

She pushes her wet hair off her forehead and I try not to look at any other part of her other than her face, but it’s really fucking difficult when she’s soaking wet.

“What favor was she doing for you Friday night that required you to have your hands all over her?”

I hate how calm she is because I know she’s raging on the inside. Which means she’s likely to explode any minute now. I feel like the edge of this pool is the edge of a volcano.

“Answer me. What favor was she doing for you Friday night?” she repeats.

I answer honestly. “She was helping me to try and convince Asa that I’m not interested in fucking you.”

I don’t have to be staring at her chest to notice her gasp. She tries to hide it, though. She stares at me for a moment and then dips under the water again. She swims to the shallow end and then stands up and walks out of the pool. Both her bra and underwear are nude, completely see-through, and making me paranoid as fuck. I’m half-afraid Asa will be able to hear my pulse from his room.

Sloan continues walking around the pool until she’s standing right in front of me. Even then, she steps closer. So close, I can feel the wetness from her bra pressing against my chest.

“Are you? Interested in fucking me?”

Jesus Christ. What is she doing?

I fight my own hands as they slide to her hips. “Not really,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m much more interested in making love to you.”

She’s breathing heavily now, but nothing compared to me. I want to fucking kiss her so bad, but it would definitely be the kiss of death, because I would never stop.

That, or she’d kill me if I tried. I can’t tell if she’s still angry with me or not. She acts like she wants me to touch her—to kiss her. But she’s looking at me like she wants to throw me in the pool and hold my head underwater.

She slides her hand to her hip, covering my hand with hers. She wraps her fingers around mine and then drags my hand slowly across her stomach and up to her breast.

I swallow hard and glance up at her bedroom window. “What are you doing, Sloan?”

She leans in and stands on her toes until her breasts are pressed against me. I close my eyes and slip one of my hands around to her lower back. My fingertips dip into the back of her underwear and I pull her to me.

Her lips meet my ear, and she whispers, “Do you get a promotion if you make it to third base with your subject’s fiancée?”

My eyes pop open.

I carefully thread my fingers through her hair, tugging her head back so I can look down at her. “You aren’t making any sense, Sloan.”

She smiles, but the betrayal in her eyes is much more evident. “I know what you are,” she says. “I know what you’re doing here. And now it all makes sense why you’re so interested in me.”

She pulls away from me, stepping back until my hands are no longer on her. She’s shooting daggers at me with her eyes. “Don’t fucking speak to me ever again or I’ll tell every last one of them you’re undercover. Luke.”

She tries to walk past me, but I immediately step in front of her and cover her mouth with my hand. She tries to scream and my eyes flick to the back door. No one has seen us yet, but I need to get her somewhere more private before she does something to get us both killed.

She tries to pull my hand away, clawing at it with her fingernails. I wrap my arms around her and force her to walk to the side of the house with me. She gets even angrier when she realizes what I’m doing, so she starts fighting me with all her strength. I hate having to use this much force on her, but it’s for her own protection. When I finally get her to the side of the house, behind the protective shield of trees, I push her against the wall and keep my hand over her mouth.

“Stop, it Sloan,” I say, looking her dead in the eyes. “Listen to me. Be quiet and listen to me. Please.”

She’s breathing heavily against my hand, gripping my wrist with both of hers. When she finally stops struggling, I press one hand against the house beside her head and I slowly begin to remove the other from her mouth.

She’s panting with fear by the time I put my other hand beside her head. I press my forehead to hers. “Everything I’ve ever said to you. Every look I’ve given you. Every time I’ve touched you. It was never for the job, Sloan. Not one fucking time. Do you understand that?”

She doesn’t respond.

I wince, because I hate that I’ve put her in this position. I hate that she even doubts me. I hate that I’ve given her all the reason in the world to. And I hate that I don’t know a single goddamn thing I could say to make her believe what I feel for her.

I lean in and kiss the side of her head, then I lower my arms and wrap them around her.

I don’t try to convince her with more words.

I don’t feed her apologies that are way too late.

I just hug her, because I can’t stand to know she’s feeling what she’s feeling.

After several moments of being frozen stiff in my arms, she slowly begins to relax. Her hands come up and fist my shirt, and she begins to melt against me. She presses her face against my chest and starts crying, so I cradle her as tight as I can.

I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper in her damp hair. “You’re all I see, Sloan. Beyond the job, beyond right and wrong. You’re all I see.”

I press my lips to the side of her head, and when I feel her mouth press against my neck, I pull her closer. She’s still gasping for breath, probably a combination of fear, anger, and our current proximity. We find each other in the dark, and when our lips finally meet, it’s as if she’s silently begging me to kiss away her doubts.

I do. Our mouths war in desperation. I push her against the wall of the house again. Every second that passes is a second that never should have passed at all, but I can’t stop what’s happening. All I can think about is how I can get more of her.

When I press into her, she moans against my mouth, and that sound pushes away everything else. The anxiety, the common sense. My need for her completely takes over, and based on the way her hands are sliding inside my shirt, so does hers.

I’m in the fog and I don’t see myself finding my way out of it anytime soon.

Fucking hell.

My mouth works its way down her neck. I bring one of my hands up to her breasts and slide it between her skin and her bra. I’m met with skin as smooth as silk. “God, Sloan,” I whisper, dragging my mouth up her neck again. When I reach her lips, she dips her tongue in my mouth and her hands fall to the button of my jeans.

I lift one of her legs to my side. Then the other. “My car,” I whisper, wrapping her around me.