Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(32)
Her expression telegraphed her disbelief. And were those…tears standing in her eyes? She blinked and whatever wet sheen he thought he’d seen was gone. Clearly he’d been imagining things, because Agent Olivia Mortier didn’t cry.
“I’m serious,” he cajoled, feeling some of his strength return as the terrible memory faded back into his subconscious, a dark specter waiting to reappear some time when he least expected it. And with the return of his strength, an idea—a wonderful, amazing, fantastic idea—suddenly occurred to him. Really, why didn’t I think of this earlier? “And then when you add in all that unfinished business between you and me, you could go so far as to say you comin’ here is exactly what the doctor ordered.” Or, in his case, exactly what Rusty ordered. Because what better way to really live than to act on all those unexplored feelings he had for Olivia?
Leo wasn’t big on religion, didn’t know exactly where he stood on the whole God issue. But if there were such things as guardian angels, he figured Rusty must be up there right now, looking down on him and wearing that patented shit-eating grin.
Thanks, man, Leo sent up a little prayer. You know, just in case.
“What unfinished business? What are you talking about?” Her adorable chin jutted up at him. Up close like this, he could see lighter, turquoise striations flecking the deep sapphire of her irises.
And, yessir. As hard as it was for him to admit it, Doc was right. He had been pining away for her, spending far too much time wondering what might have been when he should have marched his ass up to Washington to pursue the issue. I mean, for shit’s sake! He’d been eschewing willing bed partners for a whole eighteen motherfrickin’ months! And, yeah, yeah. At first he’d been mourning Rusty’s death. And then he’d been up to his eyeballs in missions while working out the last of his contract. Then there’d been retirement, fixing up the salvage boat, and making Wayfarer Island livable, but still…a whole eighteen motherfrickin’ months!
Who does that? A crazy man?
And the answer to that was an unequivocal yes. He’d been so crazy for Olivia since the day he met her that he’d been unable to think of anyone else. She had consumed him, haunted him, possessed him. And except for that one all-too-brief kiss standing beside the weapons’ locker, what had he done about it? A big honking nothing. Zilch. Zippo.
Well, that stopped today, right now. Because the best way he knew to keep his promise to Rusty to grab life by the balls and suck the marrow from its bones was to grab Olivia by the waist and suck that delicious bottom lip of hers straight into his mouth.
He placed a hand on her hip. Step number one complete.
The pulse in her throat jump-started itself into a rapid flutter at his touch, which delighted him in ways he couldn’t put into words. The skin beneath his hand where the hem of her tank top pulled away from the waistband of her shorts was soft and warm. And he wondered how much warmer, how much softer she’d be in that spot between—
“What unfinished business?” she asked again, her usually low, sexy voice having gone charmingly breathy.
“You know what unfinished business,” he told her, his own heart beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs. Funny how the organ could remain rock-f*cking-steady while he was in the thick of a gun battle or so deep beneath the ocean’s surface that light ceased to exist, but put him within two feet of one dark-haired, big-eyed spy and the silly thing took off like a startled jackrabbit. “That kiss, Olivia.”
As if uttering the word brought back the memory of his taste, her pink tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. Everything that was hot and male inside him watched that small move with something bordering on predatory interest. The urge to eat her alive, starting at her slender toes and working his way up, was remarkably strong.
“Leo…” She placed her hands on his chest. To push him away? He held his breath, waiting to see. But she exerted no pressure, simply allowing her palms to flatten over his pectoral muscles. Her breath hitched when she felt the rapid racing of his heart.
Yeah, darlin’. Feel that? That’s what you do to me.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he cajoled. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered what would’ve happened had you not been called out to that rebel general’s house right then.” Not only had that call interrupted what was quickly getting out of hand between them, but it had been the genesis of the events that had ultimately changed all of their lives… Of course, he wasn’t going to go there. Not unless he wanted that terrible memory to take over again. Which he most certainly did not.
Live your lives, Rusty had pleaded. Live them for me…
Goddamnit, Rusty! Leo sent the silent reply heavenward, you know, just in case. I’m tryin’, man!
“I-I’ve thought about it,” she admitted hesitantly. “How could I not? We danced around each other for three months. And then when we finally gave in to…”
“Lust,” he finished after she trailed off.
She lifted a brow. “You don’t mince words, do you, Lieutenant?”
“It’s just plain ol’ Leo now, Olivia.” He inched a bit closer, close enough that the soft heat from her bare legs tickled the hairs on his.
“There’s nothing plain about you.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and that was all she wrote. His heart double-timed it until the blood rushing between his ears was a dull roar.