Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(99)

“I, uh, I figured I’d give you my email address. I’m sure you’ll be sworn to secrecy about everything you’ve seen today. So…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck again. Come on, you cowardly spostata, soldier the f*ck up and take a chance. “If you need someone to talk to, maybe…” He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. This shouldn’t be so hard. “Maybe you’d consider talking to me?”

The smile that split her face was brighter than the big half-moon rising into the night sky. She took the slip of paper from him, their fingers brushing. And even that small contact sent tremors of delight and awareness dancing up his arm. Then she did something truly amazing. She went up on tiptoe, wrapping a hand around his neck and dragging his head down.

He held his breath. Everything inside him, every cell, every synapse waiting, wondering if she would—

She placed a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek, her lips smooth and warm and plump. And when she whispered, “Thank you,” the words were hot against his skin.

He sucked in a pained breath. It filled his nose with the smell of her. That fruity aroma of pears and berries. Everything sweet and delicious and edible. Later, he would question the wisdom of his next move. But right then, he didn’t think. He simply acted on the lust, the longing burning through his body and brain like a five-alarm fire.

Yanking her against him, he claimed her adorable upside-down mouth in a hard kiss. Her lips fell open in a shocked little O of surprise, and he took advantage. Tasting her. Plunging deep, stroking home. His head spinning because she was intoxicating. Sugary and warm. Like honey mixed with good Southern whiskey.

Her tongue timidly stroked into his mouth, causing him to groan, causing her to make a cute, little humming noise at the back of her throat. And that’s when he realized…twitterpated. He was completely, utterly twitterpated. And that won’t do. For many reasons. Too many goddamned reasons… Fangul!

He set her away from him as quickly as he’d pulled her close. She seemed slightly off balance. Hell, he was off balance too. The whole world was spinning. Or maybe that was just his head. One thing he knew for sure, they were both panting. And the air between them was positively buzzing with sweet, sexual tension.

“I hafta go,” he said. Great. Spoken like a true gentleman and scholar.

“O-okay,” she whispered, lifting a hand to her lips as if she wanted to hold the sensation of their kiss in place.

That one unconscious move fired him up like a firecracker with a lit fuse. He needed to cool off. A dunk in the ocean might just work. “LT!” he called. “Let’s get the lead out, bro!” And then, sparing one last look at her face—which was adorable even despite the dark bruises that marred her complexion—and mop of pixie-cut hair, he chucked her softly on the chin and then chucked himself into the ocean.

*

8:03 p.m.…

“You need to go,” Olivia said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as the cool night breeze played with the ends of her hair.

Yessir, he did. But he didn’t want to. “Since you caught the mole and don’t have to race back to DC, I reckon I could come with you to Key West,” he blurted, feeling antsy, feeling uneasy, feeling like everything was about to fall apart.

But maybe that was because he was still reeling from the revelations he’d heard inside the main cabin. All that time, all those months, she’d managed to fool him. He couldn’t quite believe it. Had always prided himself on being able to read people. Clearly, he hadn’t been able to read her. Then again, he’d known from the get-go that along with being the most fascinating, intriguing, arresting woman he’d ever known, she was hiding something, keeping something secret. He guessed he just hadn’t been expecting this.

“Why?” She searched his face, her blue eyes unspeakably…something. Sad, maybe? Resigned? Who the hell knows? It was obvious he could no longer trust his instincts when it came to her. “Now that you know what really happened in Syria—”

“Don’t.” He shoved a finger against her lips, trying to ignore the sweet warmth of her breath against his skin. He couldn’t stand it. He had to drop his hand away. It was either that or grab her up and kiss her senseless. And then nothing would ever get hashed out because they’d be too busy tearing each other’s clothes off. And that’s a bad idea because…? Well, because they had some shit to hash out, damnit! “I don’t blame you for what you did,” he assured her. “You were in an untenable situation, havin’ to weigh the risks to yourself and Rusty against the lives of five people.”

“I never expected to live,” she whispered.

And that confession, those five little words, were like rockets launched at his heart. Brave, fearless, tenderhearted, selfless woman. “But you did live. And now the two of us have a chance at—”

“What?” she cut him off. “What do we possibly have a chance at?”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The truth was, he didn’t know how to tell her he thought they had a chance at it all. The whole kit and kaboodle. Fucking happily-ever-after. Because he loved her. And the way she looked at him sometimes, the way she cried out his name when she unraveled in his arms, made him think maybe, just maybe she might love him too.

“Look…” She sliced her hand through the air, stepping away from him. And that one small move opened up more than space between them. It opened up a tiny crack inside his chest. Doubt and insecurity flooded into the void. Is it possible I misread her again? Is this thing I’m feelin’ all one-sided? Her next words seemed to answer his questions. “We’ve scratched our itch. And it was wonderful. Absolutely phenomenal sex. I’ll cherish the memory, Leo. But let’s leave at that, okay?”