Her chest rose and fall as he left the warmth of her soft body and climbed back up to her. She slid her hand along his jaw, pulling him to her. He kissed her, her taste on his lips. She’d never felt anything that powerful before. Her body felt boneless, her muscles weak with exertion, but her heart pounded against her chest like she’d run miles.
“How are you feeling?” He whispered against her lips.
“I don’t think I could put that into words,” she replied.
“Good,” he grinned and kissed her again. Then he groaned as he pulled away. She tried not to mourn his disappearance from her side. A moment later, he maneuvered them both under the covers, and his arms wrapped around her. She leaned back into him, her head on his shoulder.
“That’s… It’s completely different than I’d thought it would be.”
Chris’s body froze, almost imperceptibly, but she’d spent the last hour learning every inch of his body.
“Does it bother you that you’re kind of my first?”
Chris kissed the crown of her head, just above where she’d hit her head. “Bother me? No. It honors me.” His arms tightened around her. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, it’s kind of a weird thing to bring up.”
“I hate that you had to experience that. No one should ever have to go through what you did.”
“It’s from another life,” she said, parroting his words from earlier.
He chuckled and kissed her, his lips brushing her ear. “It’s your life.” His cock pressed hard against her and she pushed her ass back against it. He groaned. “Princess, you’re asking for trouble.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Because…” he paused. “I wanted to do that for you. Also, I don’t have protection here.”
“Oh,” she blinked. She hadn’t even thought about condoms. At least one of them was thinking clearly.
“We have to get up early in the morning anyway. We’re catching a plane to France.” His arms tightened around her again. “Private charter, so we can continue this tomorrow.” He paused, brushing her hair from her neck. “I mean if you want to.”
She turned in his arms, hooking her leg over his so their bodies pressed together. She ran her fingers over his chest. She gently kissed his lips and whispered. “I want to.”
He kissed her, groaning into her mouth as she slid her hands around his waist, against his skin. “Fire, Princess. Fire.”
She grinned. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
He grabbed her wrists and removed them from his body. “Not without protection. You’ve got to stop. You’re killing me.”
Even laying naked next to her, he was protecting her. She snuggled close, using his shoulder as a pillow and draping an arm over his body. “Okay. I’ll stop.”
What had she turned into? Her father had kept almost everyone away from her if they didn’t pass his checks. But now that she was free and on her own, she found closeness in Chris Hardy, loving the way he had made sure she’d been okay with his advances, and made her feel like she was floating.
She smiled and closed her eyes. If they stayed in this room forever, maybe they could freeze time. She’d never have to remember the horrors of reality. She could remain safe here, with him. No senator, no evil father. Just the two of them in a place that fit and smelled like the man next to her. Forever.
~*~*~
The next morning, Chris was dressed and ready to go before the sun even yawned. He’d woken Abigail up and ushered her into the shower. The sounds of running water filled his empty apartment as he tried to soothe the war inside his body. He wanted her, wanted to protect her, to cherish her. But he couldn’t, because his body didn’t belong to him anymore. He’d signed that over to Nathan two years ago. He’d promised his old life wouldn’t ever interfere with the mission.
He rubbed his face as he balanced his elbows on his knees and sighed. Soon, he and Jordan would take her across the ocean to see her birth father. Jordan would evaluate the place and they’d form a plan to end Giroux. But it was infinitely more complicated now. She was a Giroux, the daughter of the man that put two bullets in his chest. He rubbed his bare chest, feeling the puckered scars against his palm. How would she react when her birth father died right in front of her? Would she hate him forever? Would it destroy her?
He smelled her sweetness over every inch of his body, craved to go back in there and take her to bed. It had taken every ounce of control he’d had to simply lay next to her for the night. He’d barely slept. Every inch of him was attuned to her.
“Chris?”
His eyes shot up as Abigail emerged from his bedroom, dressed in one of his t-shirts and her panties. He’d have to get her some clean clothes soon. She couldn’t travel like that.
Her fiery hair bounced with the wild curls he remembered when they’d first met, the ends dripping water as she stepped carefully toward him. Her wide eyes were as bright as usual but held an uncertain quality. He groaned and buried his face in his hands again. So much trouble as soon as Nathan found out. He probably already knew. “I shouldn’t have brought you up here.”
She shrugged as she stood in front of him. “This is where you are. I go where you go.”
Such simplicity. Did she even comprehend what a bad idea being with him was? She wrapped her soft fingers around his much larger ones, pulling them away. She had knelt in front of him, balancing herself on her knees. Even with the rug, it probably wasn’t the most comfortable. She didn’t seem to care.
“Chris, please talk to me.”
“And say what?”
“I know you’re regretting last night. I know you held back.” She shook her head. “I’m not regretting it. Not one bit.”
He glanced at their joined hands, her small ones barely covering his. He turned them over so they rested in his palms and gently closed his fingers. “I have a history with Jean Giroux.”
“You told me.”
“It’s more than just him being the one that shot me.”
“Tell me.” She didn’t even miss a beat. Her face focused completely on him. He had opened up his chest and she told him without a word that it was okay to do it.
He took a breath to calm himself. He’d never talked about his near death before. He’d filed it under “shit happened” and had moved forward with his life. But now, he was realizing that maybe he hadn’t moved forward as much as he had thought.
There was no way that Abigail could have known about what happened on the train two years ago. They hadn’t kept in contact, and that mission was completely off book. Shit, he and Murphy had risked military prison to save his sister.
He released her hands and sat up straight. She watched him from her position on her knees, and he tried not to think about what else he wanted to do while she was on her knees, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
He pressed his hand against his scars, his fingers running through the puckered skin. “These are a reminder to myself that I failed to protect someone close to me. My sister. I couldn’t protect her, and I bled out on the floor of a train while he took the two people most important in my life. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. When I woke up, I wasn’t the same man. I was… already dead. Giroux didn’t just shoot me, he destroyed me.”
“Chris—”
He shook his head. “Hang on. I need to say this. Because you need to understand what kind of man Giroux is. He’s dangerous and monstrous, and he’s only grown worse over the years.”
“You make it sound like I want to go,” she whispered. “I have no good options, Chris.”
“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “I failed my sister when it counted. I couldn’t protect her.”
Her eyes were wet, water collecting in the corners as she listened to him. “She survived.”
“Not because of me. I failed her, and someone else had to protect her.” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
She cupped his face, making him look into her eyes. A tear escaped the corner of her eye as sorrow filled his gaze. She narrowed her eyes, letting the anger inside her gurgle up through her throat. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“It’s easier to feel sorrow than other things,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I think I’ve done a pretty good job of surviving so far. Maybe I just need you.”
He twirled a wet strand of hair around his finger, and a smile played at his lips. He remembered the unruly curls and here they were. It was like no time had passed. He cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers, closing his eyes as he let the warmth of her touch flow through him. Too soon, it ended. “I worry for you. This life, where there are crooked senators and dangerous arms dealers and bombs going off… it’s not for you. You don’t belong in that world.”
A laugh bubbled out of her, dry and rueful, and her eyes watered with a fresh round of tears. “Don’t I? I am the daughter of a monster. I’m the adopted daughter of a kidnapper and a murderer. Maybe this is exactly the world of which I belong.”
He shook his head. “You can’t believe that. I know you better than that.”
“Do you?” She asked, her eyes narrowing. “You pulled me out of a cage in a man’s bedroom after you put two bullets in his chest. After the hospital in Germany, you were gone.”
Guilt marred his chest, pulsing out from the bullet holes. He’d left for another mission. He’d had orders. But you never forgot your first mission, and his had been a doozy. “I couldn’t stick around. You know that.”
“Yeah. On to the next mission. I know,” she said, breaking free of his hold on her and standing up. “Never mind the seventeen-year-old that desperately needed her savior.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you not to feel sorry for me,” she said, her bright eyes fiery. “I understand why. Because you need to protect people, and someone else needed you then.”
Before he could stop it, his lips fell apart. How could she know that?
“I’m telling you this because you need to know, you didn’t fail anyone because you almost died. Someone else failed you because they didn’t protect you.” She smiled and pressed her lips against his. As they separated, she lingered against his lips, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth her closeness brought. Her voice was barely audible when she whispered, “That’s my job now.”