ELEVEN
The vise around his heart loosened the instant she said yes. But she didn’t say much else as they drove to his place.
He didn’t let the quiet bother him. No, he used the time to plan everything he was going to do to show her just how much he’d missed her. The incredible night they’d spent together hadn’t been a fluke. Only a few hours with her again had convinced him of that. They had many, many more nights to come if only she’d give him a chance.
He pulled into the parking lot beside his building and watched her take in the view. He lived in a vintage walk-up, with turn-of-the-century brickwork and no elevator. It wasn’t exactly a luxury high-rise, but it was twenty minutes from base and had everything he needed when he happened to be at home.
Which wasn’t a lot.
And he knew that was something weighing on Karly’s mind. One of many things, probably, but it was a challenge they could handle. He’d seen people do it. Ryan and Emma were a case in point. They were making it work, despite the obstacles, and Ethan had never seen his teammate so happy.
But he was getting ahead of himself here.
Ethan took her hand as they crossed the parking lot. He entered the key code and opened the door, ushering her into the foyer. As the door whisked shut, he looked down at her and brushed a wisp of hair from her face. She seemed uneasy, and he wanted her to relax.
“What?” she asked.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then took her hand and led her up the stairs. His unit was on the third floor at the end of a hallway. He felt her tension building and remembered their night at the hotel, when she could barely get the door open.
He got his door open just fine and let her go in ahead of him. He dropped his keys on the breakfast bar. He didn’t turn on the overhead light. Instead, he stepped into the living room and switched on a lamp, which gave the room a soft glow.
She crossed to the bay window and glanced over her shoulder. “You have a view of the bridge?”
“Yeah. Big selling point.”
He was being sarcastic. You could barely see the Coronado Bridge from here, but she seemed impressed.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m good.” She turned and smiled, and he could tell she was nervous.
Nervous. Karly.
A woman who’d helped rescue herself and everyone else on that island from a band of terrorists. She’d fallen out of a helicopter, and barely a day later, she’d had the balls to jump on the back of his motorcycle and cruise around an unfamiliar city, eating snails and touring ruins. And then she’d taken him back to her hotel room and rocked his world.
She was brave. Strong. Resilient.
Yet somehow visiting his home for the first time made her nervous.
“I like your place,” she said.
“Good.”
She turned to look at some pictures on the wall. Three large photos, all in matching black frames. She stepped closer to them.
“Don’t tell me you took these.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
One by one, she studied each of the pictures, all close-ups of brightly colored coral. If not for the fish, they might have looked like abstract designs.
“You’re really good with a camera.”
He eased up behind her and rested his hands on her hips. “Karly.” He ran his hands up her arms. “Why are you nervous?”
“I don’t know.” She leaned back against him, and he felt a wave of relief as he slid his arms around her waist.
“I guess . . . I thought our night together was a onetime thing.” She turned in his arms to face him. “And now here I am.”
He eased her closer, gazing down into those sexy dark eyes he’d been dreaming about for weeks. He kissed her, pulling her against him so she could feel what she did to him. He loved her taste, her smell, the softness of her body pressed against him. He burrowed his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back, and she made a low moan that sent a shot of lust through him.
She slid her hands around his neck, and everything went from zero to sixty in no time at all.
She’d missed him.
So much more than she’d let herself admit. Every cell in her body had been craving his touch since he’d slipped out of her hotel room five weeks ago.
She’d truly believed she’d never see him again. And now here she was in his home, in his arms.
Still kissing her, he guided her backward until she bumped against something. The breakfast bar. He lifted her onto it and pushed her knees apart, and a hot pulse of desire went straight to her core.
His hands slid over her thighs, setting her on fire. She loved the way he touched her, the way he knew just what she wanted. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as close as she could. His warm hands glided under her shirt and found her breasts as his mouth slid over her lips, her jaw, her neck.
“Damn, I missed you.”
She pulled back. “You did?”
His gaze heated, and he dragged her to the very edge of the counter. “Yes.”
He slid her silk cami up and over her head, revealing a black lace bra, and his gaze heated even more. He tossed the shirt away and dipped his head to fasten his mouth on her nipple, pulling hard.
“Oh, God. Yes.”
He moved the lace aside and did it again, harder, and she squeaked as she tipped her head back. She kicked her sandals off and pulled him closer as he lavished attention on her breasts. She combed her fingers into his hair, loving the softness of it when every other thing about him was so hard.
She heard the rasp of her zipper. He lifted her up, and there was a whoosh of fabric as her jeans disappeared. And then his hands were on her bare skin, touching her, sliding against her, lighting a fire inside her that got hotter and hotter until she thought she’d explode. How did he turn her into this molten puddle in no time at all? Only one night together, and he somehow remembered everything she loved, everything that drove her crazy. Closing her eyes, she moaned and pressed against him, loving his scent, his touch, the clever magic of his hands.
“Karly.”
“Yes.”
“Baby, look at me. I want to see you.”
She managed to open her eyes, and his blue-eyed gaze was so powerful, so intent on her pleasure.
“Ethan . . .”
It was too hot, too good, too everything, and she clenched herself around his fingers and came apart.
Heat and pleasure flooded her. She slumped against him, resting her face against his shoulder. Dear God. She hadn’t. But she had. He still had on every stitch of clothing, and she was naked on his bar. Even her bra had somehow disappeared.
“Hold on to me.”
He lifted her up, holding her tight against him, which was good, because her arms felt like noodles draped over his shoulders. He carried her down a hallway and into the bedroom and eased her down on the bed, and she thought of him doing the same thing in her hotel room.
“Oh my God.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “That happened so fast. I can’t believe—”
“Shh.” He kissed her, settling on top of her and going after her mouth, and she felt the steely ridge of him between her legs.
She twined herself around him and kissed him, loving his mouth and the sharp desire she tasted there. He was turned on, completely, and a thrill went through her.
“Hey.” She pushed at his shoulder until he pulled away. “On your back.”
Heat sparked in his eyes as she pushed him over and straddled him. She lifted his T-shirt, and he leaned forward, pulling it over his head. For a moment, she sat back on her heels to enjoy the sight of him propped up on his elbows, eyeing her with that simmering look.
She went to work on his jeans, watching his face closely as she slid down the zipper and freed him from his clothes. Trailing her fingers over his abs, she scooted back on the bed and dipped her head to kiss him.
His body went rigid. He tunneled his fingers into her hair as she kissed him and stroked him, savoring the hot hardness of his body. She wanted to show him how much she loved it, how much she loved everything about him, everything he did to her and how it made her feel.
His burning gaze locked on hers, and he brushed her hair from her eyes.
With a low groan, he tipped his head back, and the rush of power was intoxicating. This big, strong warrior was totally at her mercy, and she freaking loved it. She stroked her hand over his chest and his six-pack abs as she glided her mouth over him, teasing him, taunting him, driving him crazy. He gripped her hair, and she sensed him losing control, second by second. Then he sat up and pulled her arm.
“Come here.”
But she didn’t. For the first time in weeks, she felt confident. In control. Not helpless but bold and fearless and desirable.
“You’re killing me,” he groaned.
“Good.”
He moved fast, lifting her up, and she suddenly found herself flat on her back, staring up at his blue eyes, more intense than she’d ever seen them. He pushed her thighs apart with his knees.
“We do this together.”
She nodded, shocked that it seemed so important to him. Watching her closely, he rested his weight on his arms and pushed into her, a sweet spear of pleasure that made her gasp.
“Shit—condom!” He jerked back and reached for the nightstand. “Sorry.” He covered himself with lightning speed, and she barely had time to brace herself before he was back. “Damn, I’m sorry.”
“Just come here,” she said as he thrust into her again. She swept her hands up to touch his face. He pushed up on his palms and gazed down at her and then laced their fingers together. The serious look in his eyes made her heart ache.
She didn’t want to think about serious things—or anything. She only wanted to feel the sensation of their bodies fused together, moving in sync. With every breath, she felt the heat spiraling inside her as the tension built and built.
“Oh, God. Ethan.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
She loved it. This. Him.
They were together again—perfectly together—and it was better than anything she’d ever felt in her life. Everything inside her tightened and tightened, until finally it snapped, and she cried out. He smothered the sound with a kiss as a wave of pleasure crashed over them, taking them both down together in a sweaty heap.
She couldn’t think. For seconds or minutes, she could only lie there, listening to their breathing. Then he rolled onto his back.
She sat up on her elbows to see him, and he looked as blown away as she felt.
“You okay?” he asked.
She didn’t answer, just stared at him as he got up and got rid of the condom. Then he was back beside her, and she felt a twinge of panic. She needed to think. She needed to try to make some sense of what she’d allowed herself to do. Again.
But then he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
She wanted to stay. But that would only make the morning so much harder, and he was leaving soon.
“I should—”
He kissed her forehead. “Stay.”
In the darkness, a familiar ping.
Karly opened her eyes. She waited. It came again, and she felt the mattress shift.
She sat up groggily. She’d fallen asleep. No, more like she’d fallen into a coma. She looked around the room, surprised by the gray band of light beside the window. She hadn’t meant to stay the whole night.
Ethan walked back into the bedroom and handed her phone to her. She sat there, gaping at his naked silhouette. Then she looked at the device in her hand.
Text messages. Three of them. She didn’t recognize the number until she skimmed through the words.
“What’s the problem?” Ethan asked, his voice much too alert for—
“What time is it?”
“Oh-six-hundred. What’s the problem, Karly?”
“It’s Agent Mays. She needs—damn it.” Karly swung her legs out of bed. “She wants me to come into the office at seven thirty. They’ve brought a forensic artist in from headquarters. Oh my God, does she mean Quantico?”
“Or D.C.”
Ethan was pulling on his jeans. Karly’s gaze went to his hands, and she remembered boldly unzipping him last night after pushing him onto his back.
“Karly?”
She jerked her attention to his face and then looked away. “Where . . .”
But he was already out the door. He returned a few seconds later and handed her the clothes he’d stripped off her last night. She pulled them on, avoiding his gaze, and he set her shoes beside the bed.
Karly swiped at her phone. “I have to go.”
“What are you doing?”
“Calling an Uber.”
His eyebrows shot up. “An Uber?”
“There’s no need for you to get up. You can go back to sleep.”
“Are you kidding? I’m driving you home.”
He grabbed a shirt and walked out as she slipped her feet into sandals. She met him at his front door, and he had keys and a leather jacket in hand.
“Thanks for this,” she said, following him down the stairs.
When they got outside, he draped the jacket over her shoulders.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Take it. You’ll be cold on the drive.”
She was already cold, and she hadn’t reached the Jeep yet. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and tucked her wallet into the pocket as she followed him to his parking space.
The sky had lightened to a dull gray. Fog surrounded them, and a thick layer of dew covered everything. Ethan opened the door for her, and she climbed into the Jeep. She couldn’t read his mood as he slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
The drive was slow with the fog. The noise saved her from having to talk, and she tried to process what had happened yesterday, from the moment Mays had knocked on her door to the moment she’d fallen asleep in Ethan’s arms.
She cast a glance at his hand resting on the gearshift, and she remembered those skillful hands all over her body last night. He’d been insatiable, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And she’d been that way, too, because she knew he was leaving. Something twisted inside her, and she had to look away.
They sailed through intersections on a wave of green lights as he made his way through downtown and toward the magazine office, where she’d left her car. Traffic was practically nonexistent right now, but that wouldn’t be the case by the time she got home, showered, and headed to the FBI office. She wished she could go straight there, but she needed to shower and she was wearing the same clothes she’d had on yesterday morning, a little detail Mays and Hull might just notice, being investigators and all.
Ethan swung into the parking lot. It was nearly empty, only two other cars besides her red Audi. He pulled up alongside it and cut the engine.
He turned to face her, and she noticed the thick stubble covering his chin. Her throat tightened as she thought of kissing him good-bye.
“Can I see you later?” he asked.
“When later?”
“Whenever you get free.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
“I’d like to talk to you.” He reached over and took her hand. “I’ve had some stuff on my mind.”
He wanted to see her later. Later. After she finished meeting with the FBI again. After she finished the article that was going to be late and possibly get her fired—except for the fact that her boss still needed her to help land an exclusive interview with a traumatized nineteen-year-old. Karly’s life was spinning, and Ethan wanted to see her later.
Acid churned in her stomach, and she looked away. She was so bad at this. Especially face-to-face, with his warm hand folded around hers.
“It’s probably better if we just . . . leave things here.” She turned to look him straight in the eye and saw the flare of hurt there.
For an excruciating moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, “Is that honestly what you want?”
Honestly? No. And she couldn’t lie to him. She looked down at their hands.
“I feel a connection with you, Karly. I don’t want to walk away from that.”
She bit her lip. Her chest felt tight. She didn’t know what to say, and when she opened her mouth, the words just came out. “When is your next leave?”
“I don’t know.” He watched her, searching her face. “I’ll probably be back in six to eight weeks.”
Her stomach knotted. Eight weeks? She’d been miserable with five.
She cleared her throat. “Where are you going?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t tell her.
He was going away for an unspecified amount of time to an unspecified place to do God only knew what. She wouldn’t know when or even if he was coming home. Her mind flashed back to that terrorist aiming the rocket-propelled grenade at their helicopter, and her stomach did a nosedive.
“I can’t do this,” she blurted. “I can’t handle some long-distance relationship with you. I did that once before, and it ended badly. He met someone else. Actually, several someone elses.” God, was she really telling Ethan all this? He was watching her closely. “I won’t do that again.”
“You won’t have to. I would never cheat. Or lie to you.”
“You say that now.”
“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “I think we respect each other enough that if there’s a problem, we’ll put it out there and deal with it.”
Those blue eyes that had haunted her for weeks would be haunting her all over again. She shook her head and glanced down.
“Karly, look at me.”
She did.
“You think I can’t commit to you? That I can’t be honest? I’ve always been honest with you, from the moment we met.”
“I think you’re being honest now, but . . . eyes wander. Interest fades. I don’t want to be back here waiting for you and missing you, and meanwhile you’re off on some rescue mission sweeping some woman off her feet.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You think I go around doing this? You think I’m going to pull some woman out of harm’s way again and fall for her?”
She stared at him. “You’ve . . . fallen for me?”
“Yes, I have. No, I didn’t mean for it to happen. Shit.” He raked his hand through his hair. “This isn’t normal for me, Karly. I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning here.”
Her heart raced inside her chest. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to at least try. But she was scared. Terrified.
He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to decide now. Just . . . promise to call me when you finish with the FBI.”
“I don’t want to promise that.”
His gaze held hers, and she knew he could read her mind. He could see all the conflict swirling in her eyes.
He reached out and touched her cheek. Slowly, he leaned in and tipped her chin up to kiss her. It was soft and sweet and so heartbreakingly gentle she felt like the world would stop.
He eased away. “Promise to think about it.”
She couldn’t think about it. Not yet. Not with her mind and her body still reeling from everything he’d done and said.
She pushed it away for later and focused on the FBI. On what they wanted from her. They needed her to sit down with the artist they’d flown in and help them identify Tango X.
Ethan’s reaction to the name had shaken her. Brutal, he’d said. But it was the grim look in his eyes when he’d said it that chilled her to the bone.
As Karly made her way home, she tried to picture the friendly man beside her lunch table building a bomb or plotting an attack. Tom Green. What an innocuous name. She pictured the easy smile on his face as he’d picked up her press pass and looked at it. You do print or TV?
A shiver of fear went down her spine. She could picture it now that she knew what his casual questions were all about.
She turned into her parking lot and slid her car into its covered space. She got out and pocketed the keys, and only then did she realize she was still wearing Ethan’s jacket.
Warmth flooded her. His backup plan. As if that kiss weren’t enough. He was clever. And persistent.
But long-distance relationships were tough. She didn’t want to think of all the endless weeks she’d be here worried about him, while he was off on some top-secret op, fighting terrorists and dodging bullets. She didn’t know a lot about what he did, but she’d gathered enough to understand that he was part of an elite unit. Ethan and Ryan and Jake and Lucas—all those guys she’d met took on the most dangerous missions, and there were no guarantees.
Karly didn’t want to think about it. But the prospect of turning Ethan down and never seeing him again? She didn’t want to think about that, either.
Promise to call me.
Again, she put off the decision as she climbed the stairs to her second-floor apartment. She had a jam-packed day ahead of her, and she couldn’t believe the FBI was counting on her to identify one of the most wanted men in the world, especially after she’d failed to find him in their vast array of photos.
How could a sketch artist possibly help? A photograph would be so much better. As Ethan had pointed out, it was something they could run through a database, possibly using facial-recognition software to get a match. And then they could circulate his name and picture at every border checkpoint, hoping to prevent him from ever setting foot in this country to carry out an attack. Karly wished her phone camera had yielded a picture. Or better yet, Drew’s camera. Or even better yet, she wished she had a fingerprint or a voice recording.
She froze on the stairs. Her fingers curled around the banister. She did have a fingerprint. He’d picked up her press pass.
She dug into the pocket of Ethan’s jacket and pulled out her phone. Heart thudding, she scrolled through to find the number for Mays. She called her and waited.
Voice mail, damn it.
She disconnected, then switched to the text screen to type Mays an urgent message.
After sending it, she stared down at her phone. She had a fingerprint for Tango X. She pulled up Ethan’s number and bit her lip, debating whether to tell him. He would want to know, but maybe she shouldn’t involve him. He had a protective streak, and it would only make him worry.
Karly tucked the phone into her pocket and unlocked her door. She stepped into her apartment and froze, trying to make sense of the scene before her.
To her right, a noise. She lunged away, but an arm clamped around her neck, dragging her back and cutting off her scream. Karly’s heart skittered as something cold and hard pressed against her cheekbone. She looked down to see a big black gun.