“I’m sorry, Dutch.”
He looked into her eyes. “What for?”
“That I kept looking.”
“From the way I see it, Striker and the other two would’ve been targeted regardless. You had no idea Striker was involved, at least not on the side of the good guys.”
Malin still didn’t look convinced, but if what she uncovered was as big as it seemed, she was right to question whether there was anyone she could trust.
“Why aren’t we leaving until tomorrow?”
Dutch walked closer and put his arm around her shoulders. “First of all, I’m not ready to give up our pretend life yet.”
“Dutch—”
“Hang on. The real reason is that we can’t get transport until morning, and neither of us is flying commercial with what you’ve told me so far.”
She smiled, which was quickly becoming something that brought Dutch to his knees. Her smile—hell, all of her—was so damn beautiful. She took his breath away.
“We’ve got about sixteen hours to kill. What do you say? Keep working this or take a break and go back to pretending we’re retired and have nothing to do but run and kayak—and, you know—make love?”
“I’m all for pretending, but I need to run, Dutch.”
“I know, I know,” he grumbled, feeling a lot like the old man she had accused him of being a day or so ago. When had that been? Yesterday? He had no idea what day it was. He sure wished he could go on not needing to.
—:—
Malin took off ahead of him. She had to. She felt as though her insides were trying to crawl out through her skin; that’s how anxiety-ridden she was. If she didn’t run, she’d end up having a mental meltdown.
Dutch caught up with her at the same place he had the first day they arrived, although this time he didn’t look quite as exhausted.
“I found the shed on my way,” he told her, holding out a blanket. “Remember, before our kayak ride, how we both agreed that we prefer the other to be naked?”
Malin smiled and nodded.
“I say we take advantage of what’s left of daylight to do just that.” When he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the sand, Malin did too.
“I like this,” she murmured, waiting for him to take off his shorts.
She watched as Dutch toed off his shoes, bent over to shed his socks, and then walked over to her.
“What about your shorts?”
“Not until I get a chance to look at you.” He took her arms that were crossed in front of her breasts, put them at her sides, and then knelt in front of her. “I could get used to this,” he said, capturing one of her nipples between his lips.
Malin put her hands on his shoulders and dug her nails in as everything he did with his mouth heated her through to her core.
Dutch stood, dropped his shorts on the sand near his shi
rt, shoes, and socks, and then pulled her over to the blanket.
He lay down first and eased her on top of him. “Kiss me, Malin. You kiss me.”
She put her hands on either side of his face and brought her lips to his. He let her take over; the only thing he did was wrap his arms around her waist.
“I love this,” he murmured. “More than you could ever know.”
“It was always good between us, wasn’t it, Dutch?”