“You have more faith in my control than I do.”
He acted like this was easy for her. Like she wasn’t waging a battle to win them back. “You would never touch me without my permission.”
“Of course not.” His hands went to her waist and with a tug her chest pressed against his.
“You don’t have it.” She dropped a small kiss on his chin. “You would have to earn it.”
“You’re killing me.” His face went into her hair, and his mouth nuzzled her ear.
The brush of air across her skin sent a tremor racing down her spine. The shiver brought with it an ache. A need to be near him. “That pretty face of yours isn’t enough for me to drop my common sense.”
He chuckled. “Good to know.”
“But you could—”
“Kiss you.”
He didn’t ask for permission a second time or for an order from her. He dipped his head and his lips touched hers. The kiss slipped from sweet to hot before one second could pass to the next.
Fire rolled over her as her nerve endings sparked to life. Her hands tingled. She wanted to crawl in closer and never let him go.
His mouth passed over hers and a grumble built in the back of his throat. He kissed her hard and deep and kicked life into every fantasy she’d ever had of him, every memory she held as sacred.
When he lifted his head the room continued to spin. Her fingers gripped his back, and her pulse thumped in her ears.
With a groan, he leaned his forehead against hers. “You think we can stop cold after a few more of those?”
She could barely catch her breath. It rushed out of her in huge shuddering gasps. “We’re going to stop because we need our rest, although I bet you’re going to stay up most of the night keeping watch.”
“You do know me.” He lifted his head and kissed her again, this one short yet determined.
She pulled her head back before either one of them was tempted to deepen it. “Parts.”
He sighed, exhaled, treated her to the whole “you win” vibe males had. “There hasn’t been anyone else.”
Deep down she knew that. He couldn’t look at her the way he did and then run home to someone else. He wasn’t that guy. It wasn’t his style.
Knowing that and knowing the reality of how people worked were two different things. People moved on. They had sex and fell in love. He was worth it and believed to her soul he eventually would believe it, too. He was a catch, whether or not he realized that.
“But there will be. Someone else, I mean.” She whispered the phrase because it hurt to say it louder.
“No.”
The quickness of his comeback had the hope inside her surging again. “I’m wondering if you’ll ever trust me enough to stay.”
He cupped her cheek. “It’s not about trust.”
That’s the part he never got. If he really loved her and trusted her to accept him for who and what he was, he wouldn’t run. He’d stay and fight.
But he didn’t and she could feel him slipping away again.
She covered his hand with hers and stepped back, breaking the connection between them. “Yeah, it is.”
* * *
THE CHAIR WITH its thin cushion turned out to be pretty uncomfortable. The longer Joel sat there, the more his lower back ached. But he didn’t plan to move. Not when the seat gave him the best view of her on the other side of the cabin.
He’d found a small lamp stuck in the corner. With it plugged in across the room from the bed and the shade turned toward the ceiling, it bathed the cabin in a soft light. Most of the small space stayed hidden in shadows, but he could see her face.
Lying there with his arms wrapped around her and that body pressed against his for hours had amounted to slow torture. Hours with her curled up so close. The position, the smell of her hair, it all brought the memories back.
Eighteen months ago she’d handed him the key to her apartment and temptation pulled at him to stay. He’d wanted to grab it and try to make it work. He’d toyed with the idea even though he always promised himself years ago he would never drag another person into his messed up life.
He’d switched jobs and got antsy. He craved the outdoors and didn’t have time for the bar scene. Even now he lived in the third-floor crash pad of the Corcoran Team headquarters instead of taking the time to find his own place.
Committing came hard for him—to a job, to a plan, to a path that got him somewhere other than slinging a gun while hiding in the woods. He didn’t want to settle in and act the way other people did.
His time in the DIA ended when his boss accused him of selling the team out for cash. The man pivoted right off the charge, almost immediately, and Joel didn’t do anything wrong, but the damage was done in Joel’s mind.