Mine To Protect (Mine #6)(2)

He put his hand on Zoe’s shoulder. Zoe’s rather puffy shoulder. That coat was almost hilariously huge on her. “Will you forgive me?” Once again, his voice carried easily.

But hers…

“Never,” Zoe whispered. Her voice only reached him.

“Oh, thank you, baby!” Victor cried out. He spun her around—fast—and lowered his head over hers. He made sure to cover her with as much of his body as possible and then—

Victor kissed her.

For the scene, of course. Because he had to make things look real for his audience.

And not, not because he’d wanted to taste Zoe. Definitely not because of that reason. He was a professional. An FBI agent who took his job seriously.

He was just doing a very, very thorough job, that was all.

Such bullshit.

Her mouth was so soft and silken beneath his, and her lips had parted—probably because the woman had been preparing to rip him a new one. His lips pressed to hers and his tongue slid inside her mouth.

This might be my only shot. I really hope she doesn’t slap me.

But…she didn’t.

She didn’t slap him. She didn’t jerk away. Maybe she was too shocked to attack.

So he kissed her deeper. Harder. He let go of the control that he had to always keep in place—so tiring, being in control all the time. Some days, he just wanted to let go.

He wanted to let his darker side out to play. It had been far too long since he’d gone wild.

Her tongue teased his and his cock jerked in eagerness. She wants me? She wants—

Her hands were around his shoulders. Her nails bit into his skin. He pulled her closer and mentally cursed that giant jacket because he wanted to feel her against him. Not that mound of cushion. A growl built in his throat. He was pretty sure his zipper was making a permanent indention on his growing dick.

Want more. Want her so badly.

But not in a bus station. Not with people gaping at them.

Time to end this scene.

Zoe must have thought the same thing because her nails weren’t sinking into him any longer. She was pushing against him.

In a fast swoop, he picked her up in his arms. He hoped that shit looked romantic to everyone who was watching. They’d remember a quarreling couple who made up—and hurried outside.

Not an FBI agent. Not an ex-showgirl on the run.

Reunited lovers.

She had stiffened in his arms, and he tightened his grip as he hauled ass for the door—with her held securely against him. He knew she wouldn’t want to make a scene, either, and he’d been counting on that fact.

Zoe knew she was being hunted—and not just by him. A low profile was key for her survival.

A few moments later, they were outside. His breath created a small cloud as the cold air hit him.

“Put. Me. Down.” Her voice was way colder than the chill in the air. But he didn’t put her down, not yet. Victor didn’t lower her until he was standing right beside the rented SUV that he’d used to track her. Once they were at the vehicle—and safely away from prying eyes—he lowered Zoe to her feet and he trapped her between his body and the SUV. The better to stop her from fleeing.

“Why in the hell did you kiss me?” Zoe demanded.

They were both in the shadows, but he could see that her cap had slipped back, letting thick locks of her dark hair tumble free. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said.

Her index finger jabbed into his chest. “It was a crappy idea!”

“Really? Because I’m betting if they’re pressed, not one of the people in there would be able to describe your face. They weren’t focusing on what you looked like, they were focusing on what we were doing.”

And she’d sure tasted even better than he’d expected.

His expectations had been high…with her, they always were.

He eased back and opened the passenger side door for her.

She didn’t get in. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Protecting you?” He shrugged. “It’s sort of my job.”

“No, it’s not.” But she got in the vehicle. A minor miracle. He slammed the door and hurried around to the driver’s side. He knew there was a chance she would cut and run from the SUV the minute his back was turned. Luckily, when he jumped in the ride, she was still in the passenger seat. A small miracle.

“Your job,” Zoe announced, her voice husky and sensual even when she was pissed, “is not to keep me your prisoner.”

“Of course not.” He started the ignition. “My job is to keep you alive, though we both know that.”

“Victor.”

He threw the vehicle into reverse. “Sweetheart, you’re a wanted woman. On the lists of more hitmen than I can count. Your dear old dad was one Grade A sadistic bastard before he got thrown in prison, and all of his enemies want to take out their fury on you.”

She was silent. Never a good sign from Zoe.

“The FBI wants you alive. We’re here to protect you.” He turned the vehicle toward the exit.

“There is no we,” she huffed out the words. “There is you. You are sitting next to me. You’re the jerk who won’t let me just vanish. And that’s what I want—I can disappear and you can be done with me. I know I’ve been a pain in your ass—I’ve tried to be. It’s sort of been my whole life goal lately.”