She was so brave. More so than Striker, more than Ranger and Diesel, more than Dutch was himself.
If he’d stumbled on a conspiracy within the agency, would he have gone after it with the same tenacity as Malin? If he were warned away and had no one he could trust working with him, would he have stuck with it like she had?
Malin had been on her own, her only assets a Russian assassin and the leader of a radical Islamic terrorist organization. She’d infiltrated that same organization, whose members disdained women as lesser beings, holding her own in the face of constant danger.
“I am in awe of you,” he murmured, trailing his lips along the path his fingers had taken.
“I remember the first day I met you. I’m not sure if I would call it awe or out-and-out intimidation, but even in those first few minutes, I knew that you were someone I wanted to get to know better.” Malin told him.
“I felt the same way.”
She turned her head. “You did?”
“Yes, Malin, I did. Every day that you worked for me was absolute torture because I knew that, as long as you did, I couldn’t touch you…and I really wanted to touch you.”
“I have to admit, I did a lot of daydreaming…”
Dutch smiled. “In meetings.”
Malin laughed. “You knew? Oh, God. Did everyone know?”
“No one else seemed to notice.” Dutch set his glass down and then touched a spot on her neck. “Your skin, right here, would flush. That’s how I knew.” He bent his head and touched the spot with his lips. “And that’s what I imagined doing whenever I saw it.”
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“That instead of thinking about the meeting’s agenda, I was thinking about you.”
“I couldn’t leave the agency fast enough once you started working there. That year was absolute torture.”
“I had no idea.”
“Even after that first night? I didn’t waste any time getting my hands on you.”
He watched as her eyes closed and the spot on her neck turned pink. It almost looked as though it formed a heart. “You are so fucking sexy.”
Dutch took the empty glass from her trembling hand and set it and his out of the way. He put his hands on her waist, lifted her out of the water, and turned her around.
“This is where I want you,” he said, easing her back down so she straddled him.
—:—
Every time Malin felt the anxiety over Ghafor and Striker and the mission coming to the front of her mind, she pushed it back.
Dutch had soothed her, first with the bath, and then the wine, and then with his body—over and over again. He’d chased the monsters and dragons away, like her father had, but in his very unique way.
When he told her he’d be right back and left the bedroom, she knew he was headed to the kitchen to get the sandwiches he’d made earlier. The man’s appetites, not just for food, were insatiable.
He came back with two plates, handing one to her before he climbed back into bed. Before she’d eaten half of the sandwich he’d given her, he was done with all of his.
“Here,” she said, handing him her plate. “You can finish it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat a quarter of what you do in a day, and yet, look at you. You have zero percent body fat, don’t you?”
“I don’t pay that much attention, although, you kicked my butt in South Carolina. That worried me a little.”