Mine To Protect (Mine #6)(11)

“Good luck,” Russell told him.

Oh, he’d need more than luck.

Because his boss at the Bureau—the f*cking assistant director—had told Victor he had to come back with results. Actionable intel from Zoe that they could use against her father.

And the assistant director had also told him that if he didn’t get what they needed, Victor was supposed to play hardball with Zoe. Supposed to tell her that the FBI would walk away—and leave her ass on her own.

The assistant director is a cold bastard.

One thing Victor knew…he wasn’t walking out on Zoe. Not this time—not ever again.

***

Zoe’s ear pressed to the glass—a dirty glass she’d found in the bathroom. The glass was pressed to the motel room door, the better for her to eavesdrop on the agents. It had been an old trick, one she’d used when she was a child and she’d wanted to overhear just what her mom and dad were talking about.

On one of those rare visits that Luther made to their apartment…

Her breath barely slipped past her lips as she listened to the murmur of voices outside of the motel room. Victor, Russell, Lauren.

What did Victor mean about losing his soul? The guy had plenty of soul. Sure, he was a bit icy at times but…

Her hold tightened on the glass. What secrets are you keeping, Victor?

He dismissed the agents. She heard him tell them goodnight.

Crap. She jumped away from the door. Zoe rushed toward the bed, pausing just long enough to hide the glass under the faded bed skirt. Then she hopped on the bed. The mattress gave that long groan again.

She closed her eyes. Tried to make her body look relaxed. Did her breathing sound even? She hoped her cheeks weren’t flushed.

Zoe rolled, turning away from the door and curling her body in a bit. The door creaked open behind her and she heard the heavy tread of Victor’s footsteps.

Would he buy that she’d drifted off to sleep? Would he just leave her alone until morning?

His footsteps came closer and—

He walked to the other side of the bed. Clothing rustled. Zoe wanted to crack open one eye and look at him, but that would totally blow her fake sleeping routine to hell.

More rustling. A lot of rustling. Just how much was the guy taking off?

Then the bed dipped. Whoa, whoa, whoa! There was a perfectly good floor for the man to use. He could not be crawling into bed with her.

Her eyes flew open.

And she found him lying right beside her. His gaze was on her face, and Victor was smiling. “Nice try, baby, but I saw the glass peeking out from your side of the bed. Next time, cover it up better.” His smile stretched. “Eavesdrop much?”

“Only every chance I get.” He was in bed. With her.

His hand reached toward her. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Zoe Peters…” he murmured. “Just what am I supposed to do with you?”

Everything that we both want. The words were there, rising within her, and it took all of Zoe’s strength not to say them out loud.





Chapter Four


Zoe’s hair was still wet. Wet and sleek and she smelled sweet—her scent was wrapping around Victor, teasing him. Seducing him.

No, it was her gaze that seduced. Green eyes that were sensual, tempting.

Their bodies were just inches apart. He wanted to close that space. To put his mouth on hers. To taste her like he wanted—no restraint. No holding back.

Just greed. Lust.

The desire that he was tired of fighting.

Every time he saw Zoe, his need for her grew. It was wrong, he knew that. He should keep his hands off her but—

His fingers trailed over her cheek. Slowly, carefully, his hand moved down. His index finger slid over her plump lower lip. Her lips were parted, just a bit and…his breath left him in a fast whoosh.

She just licked my finger. He’d felt the quick, wet lick of her tongue on his finger. His dick immediately hardened for her. Hardened even more…because he’d been aroused for her before he even climbed into the bed.

“Are we going to keep pretending?” Zoe asked him. When she spoke, her lips moved against his finger and he felt the light caress of her tongue again.

“Pretending?” He wanted her mouth beneath his. Wanted to feel that sexy pink tongue of hers on so many other parts of his body.

Her hand rose and pressed to his chest. He’d ditched his shoes, socks, coat and shirt—and he was wearing just his jeans. So when her hand reached out, her fingers pressed directly to his skin.

“You’re warm,” Zoe murmured.

Her touch seemed to burn straight to his core.

“I know you want me.”

The woman was dead-on with that statement. Wanted her. Was insane for her. Wanted to strip her and f*ck her all night long.

“I also know you’ve been staying hands off. Probably because you’re the agent in charge. Mr. Law-Abiding. You don’t break rules.” Her hand slid lightly over his chest. “You don’t cross lines.”

There were plenty of lines he wanted to cross with her. So many that the woman would need a safe word.

“So I’m not going to pretend that I can’t tell you want me.” Her hand dipped a little lower. Sweet hell. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t want you, too.”

His racing heartbeat thundered in his ears.