Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(25)

Could she trust him? He wasn’t that same “goofy smiles and too literal sense of humor” boy she’d grown up with. He was harder. Different. A touch scary.

Right now she needed scary on her side, but more than anything, she needed this.

To be held.

Sarah buried her face in his chest, soothing her frazzled nerves in his scent and the feel of his arms around her. She’d always looked to Rand and Matt for guidance, learning by their example. Now was no different. She couldn’t curl up into a ball, cry, and hope someone else fixed the problems. If she did that, she’d have been dead in some dark alley in Seoul.

Tomorrow. She’d focus on learning what she needed to know then.

Right now, she just wanted to feel safe. The only time in the last four days she’d managed that was when Rand held her. When he was with her.

Maybe it was a lifetime of trust or maybe she was simply stupid to believe in him after he’d shown her how fickle he could be, but she wanted to hold onto this. Him. Now. It was a desperate sort of feeling.

She rocked back on her heels, peering up at him.

His hair was redder, more of a chestnut brown-red than it once was. The stubble had turned into a very short beard. It was strange seeing him with facial hair. He and Matt had tried to grow mountain men–style facial hair in high school. Matt wound up looking like a lumberjack while Rand’s was patchy, scraggly, and sparse.

Eight years made a whole lot of difference in a person. She’d changed. So had he. But deep down, weren’t they the same?

Screw it.

If things were going to hell, she’d rather act instead of waiting for shit to hit the fan.

She grasped a handful of his shirt and rose up on her tiptoes, yanking him closer. Either he wasn’t prepared, or he let her pull him down.

Sarah met him in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. She bit his lower lip, ready to devour him, and hooked her arm around his neck. He wasn’t the only one who had wants and desires. He made a sound low in his throat that might have been a growl. She swiped her tongue over his lip and tilted her head, sealing her mouth to his. It wasn’t just her that wanted this—he did, too.

He leaned into her, driving her back against the wall with his greater bulk, but he didn’t touch her. Not with his hands. His lips parted, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth and his thigh between hers. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding onto him, pouring all of herself into that kiss.

Click. Scrape. Growl.

She could feel his nails digging into the textured wall, sliding over the ridges. Like he was trying to hold back, temper his lust. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him.

He wanted her. She’d felt the depth of his desire in that one-room apartment, and she could sense it now. It didn’t matter if it was a them-thing or simple need.

“This isn’t a good idea right now. Later.” His voice was strained now, as though an invisible fist was cutting off his air. “We need to talk, Sarah.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to.

“About what?”

“Us.”

“Is there really an us? Is that a good idea? I don’t know, and…maybe we need to talk about that after we figure things out.”

Rand’s gaze narrowed, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I don’t leave things hanging. There is an us.”

Sarah pushed her hand through her hair and gritted her teeth. If this were any other man telling her they were a thing, she’d have thrown something by now or called the cops. Rand’s stubborn streak was a hurtle all its own.

“There isn’t an us, Rand. Not right now. We kissed. We had sex. It was fun, but anything more than that is just not a good idea right now. We have too much on our plate to figure out our personal problems.”

He turned.

“Rand? Rand—”

“What? Need something else while I’m here?”

God, why did he have to be so pigheaded? “No, nothing. Never mind.” She rolled her eyes and flung her hand out toward the door.

He stalked toward the door.

She wanted to reach out and strangle the infuriating man. Let him go stew in his own stupidity for all she cared.

Sarah watched the door shut behind him. “Gah!” She turned, hurling the remote onto the bed, and stalked the length of the room. “Stupid, ridiculous, self-righteous asshole.”

He didn’t even have to be in the room for her to hear his arguments, his voice uttering this or that excuse.

They were undergoing some seriously stressful shit. Why pile on top of that? Why add more complexity to what they were already struggling to deal with? Couldn’t hashing out whatever hormones that had sent them boning like crazy wait until later?

She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

“Need something else while I’m here?” she parroted into the empty room. “My foot up your ass.”

…

Irene watched the nurse slowly press the plunger, sending something else into her sister. She hated not being able to ask, to communicate with the hospital staff, but if she wanted the ghost of a chance for this procedure to work, this was how it was going to be.

This was their last hope. The last thing that might stop the spread of the tumor and save Anna’s life. Irene squeezed her sister’s hand.

Drastic times called for drastic measures. She regretted none of her decisions, only that she hadn’t gotten Anna here sooner. If she’d had had this treatment a month ago, a year ago, where would they be now?