If he weren’t starving and Gigi weren’t already eating, he’d have refused the plate Ivy offered so they could get on their way. He sat down next to Gigi and Rami with a serving of creamy pasta that smelled like fucking heaven. He picked up a fork and dove in. The flavors of basil and Parmesan cheese erupted in his mouth and he stifled a groan. “Holy cow, this is damn good.”
Ivy beamed. “It’s Gigi’s recipe.”
He turned his attention to Gigi. “Yeah?”
She chewed slowly, and her chin dipped a bit.
Huh. Interesting. Shy?
“Thanks. It’s good to know my recipes didn’t die when I disappeared.”
When they were finished eating, Ivy apologized. “I don’t have any dessert made.”
August got to his feet and collected his and Gigi’s dishes. “Don’t be. I’m stuffed. That was delicious.”
“I’m sure Gigi would make it better, but I’m glad you liked it.”
“You guys should get going,” Rami said, as he helped clear the table. “Do you want me to escort?”
“Nah, I’ll make sure we don’t have a tail.”
Gigi tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to borrow some things from Ivy. Give me a few minutes.”
August gave a nod, struggling with the effort it took not to kiss her perfectly plump lips. Hiding out in the safe house for the next couple of days—or hell, who knew how long?—would be a challenge.
Which was why he needed to do some digging on Val Alvarez and see what the motherfucker wanted. Or, more importantly, if he could be bought. Because as of right now, they didn’t stand much chance fighting the cartel.
Gigi disappeared into the bedroom with Ivy and came out five minutes later with a purple backpack over her shoulder. “All set.”
August took the bag from her and went to the door. Gigi slipped on a pair of Ivy’s white running shoes and then gave her sister a long hug.
“Babe, she won’t be far this time,” Rami assured her. “And you can talk on the burner phones. Within reason.”
Ivy scoffed. “We haven’t talked in months. There’s no such thing as reason.”
Gigi chuckled and squeezed Ivy again. “I’ll be fine. Call you tomorrow.”
August led her outside and to the Tahoe. “Got everything you need?” he asked, as they got into their seats and buckled up.
“Yeah, I should be good for a few days.”
He pulled out of the driveway and headed downtown. The floral scent of Gigi’s shampoo filled the car, making it hard for August not to think about getting closer to her.
He had to stop. Maybe one day he could explore the idea of getting with Gigi again, but not right now.
The brushing sound of denim on denim made him drag his gaze to her bouncing knee. If she hadn’t pointed out his compulsive need to touch her, he’d have placed his hand on her thigh to still her. Instead, he wound his fingers around the steering wheel then unwound them, over and over.
Now he had to be even more careful. Because he wouldn’t be able to answer her if she outright asked why he kept touching her.
Because he couldn’t fucking help it.
A quick glance at her face showed a channel of worry engraved on her forehead. She hadn’t spoken in several minutes, and either she was feeling the tension between them or she wanted to be anywhere but next to him.
He couldn’t stand the thought of the latter. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
He stopped at a red light and watched as she rubbed her hands up and down the sleeves of her shirt. “Uh, nothing. Just tired.”
“Mmm. You can rest when we get to the apartment. I don’t think there’s much food there for breakfast, but I don’t want to risk making any unnecessary stops. I’ll get groceries delivered tomorrow.”
She said nothing. Which irked him more.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the underground parking garage of the building in the downtown core and weaved slowly through the tight space.
The flickering yellow light and impossibly low ceiling might have made a normal person uneasy. But not him. He’d seen the inside of too many caves. Had endured uncomfortable situations and pushed his physical limits on a daily basis. Years of war and then death-defying black-ops missions had made him almost robotic. Not that he couldn’t feel the pinpricks of warning, but they didn’t quite penetrate the same way.
It was as if they couldn’t quite touch him.
Only they had. War had touched too many of his men. Grief constricted his windpipe as he whipped the car into a narrow parking spot.
The months spent in South America two years ago had been some of the darkest days of his life. The only thing that had kept him going, the only image he’d played over and over in his mind, was Gigi’s beautiful face. Her shining smile, her silky hair, her petite frame that fit him like a lost fucking puzzle piece.
He’d trekked in the jungle for three days and had gone twenty-four hours without water, nearly dying in the humid conditions. They’d gotten the hidden warlord the government had wanted, dropping an IED and flattening his secret compound. But August and his team had suffered the consequences. If it hadn’t been for the hope of returning to Gigi, he’d surely have died.
Maybe that was why it hurt so fucking much that she’d moved on.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t get over her. Because how do you just forget the woman who kept you breathing when every element surrounding you was trying to steal your life? She’d been his real-life guardian angel, and while being half dragged onto the helicopter that’d flown them out of that godforsaken rainforest, he’d sworn to himself that he’d find Gigi again and never let her go.
He’d gone back on his word. But now she was here. Within reach. And that’s why he couldn’t stop touching her—because she’d once been his salvation. He needed to remind himself that she was here. That he wasn’t in the jungle hallucinating her.
Gigi leaned forward in her seat, her hand on the door handle. “Ready?”
He caught her forearm. “No,” he said, his tone gravelly. He needed to get this shit off his chest before he combusted.
* * *
Gigi cocked her head an inch. “No?” Scanning the parking garage, she couldn’t see a threat other than the cars on either side of them that’d surely ding the Tahoe’s doors.
August also didn’t appear concerned about their surroundings, but his rigid shoulders and hard glare made her freeze.
“What’s wrong?”
His jaw worked in a side-to-side motion.
“August?” she pressed.
He swept his attention over her face, pausing on her mouth and then landing on her eyes. “I’m not sure how to act here, Gig.”
Her shoulders bunched. “What do you mean?”
Seconds passed, and for a moment she expected him to end the conversation and get out of the car.
“I’m having a hard time forgetting about our history.” He spoke slowly, as if blowing them through a straw.
Gigi rubbed her thumb over the pads of her fingers. The awkward moment was inevitable. Being around August was like living in a shaken bottle of soda. An eruption was bound to happen. Still, she floundered. She cleared her throat, and the sound resembled a squeak. “I—Uh—You don’t have to forget.”
“You have.” His rapid-fire response made her shrink in her seat.
“That’s not true.” She fought the urge to tunnel her hand through her hair. August agitated her. No, this August agitated her. Because she was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.
She’d tried keeping up a wall and clearly that’d hurt him. But she couldn’t exactly say everything she felt. There was no way to explain the pull he had on her. No way to describe the way her pulse thrummed in his presence or how an ache as wide as the Grand Canyon had opened up in her heart when he left.
Before she’d gone into witness protection and he’d been around all the time helping Rami protect Ivy, there’d been an obvious tension between them.
One born of resentment and . . . and what? What was the feeling that made her belly coil?
Need. But not just the physical kind. Being scared and alone for over three months had made her crave so much more than physical touch. She and August had a connection. And no matter how much she tried to ignore the arc of electricity between them, she couldn’t. “I don’t want to make a mistake. Things didn’t work out the first time, and—”
“Didn’t work? We never tried.” He didn’t say it, but the we screamed you.
She bit her bottom lip, weighing her words. He stared at her as if daring her to contradict him.
“I didn’t want to get news you’d died,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
“You found someone else.”
“We’d only known each other two weeks.” God, why had that come out so defensively?
“So we had nothing. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” she slapped back, without missing a beat.
“You didn’t feel anything for me?”
“No,” she yelled. “I mean yes,” she said more quietly. “I mean—” She groaned. “I felt enough that I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want to go through that.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Let’s go.” He carefully opened the door and slid out.
She huffed and followed, irritation ping-ponging through her. She waited as he pulled their bags from the back seat then followed him into the vestibule. He punched the elevator button and the hydraulics hummed. Tension sizzled in the air.
Gigi folded her arms across her chest and fought the urge to tap her foot. Indignation roared against her eardrums. He was making this all her fault. And sure, part of it was. But it wasn’t as if they’d been engaged, for god’s sake. She hadn’t even known if he’d wanted to see her again.
“You didn’t call the whole time you were away.” The accusation blurted from her lips. “Not once. Five months of nothing and I was supposed to put my life on hold indefinitely?”
All the emotion she’d been hanging on to, all the hurt, singed the space between them.
August swung his hot, penetrating eyes to her, searing her to the spot. But he said nothing.
The elevator dinged and Gigi got inside, fighting to keep her mouth from trembling. In truth, August’s leaving had hurt. Sure, he’d given her the whole “it’s my duty” spiel, but how was she to know he hadn’t just been blowing her off? Or, if he really was on a mission, that he’d even think about her once he was off U.S. soil?
August followed her in and stared at the rows of buttons. The door whooshed shut and she waited several heartbeats. Friction saturated the air. She wet her lips, tempted to reach forward and hit any one of the dozens of buttons so they’d at least leave the parking garage.
He turned toward her before she could budge. His hand swooped forward to cradle her neck, and his large palm settled on her jaw, his thumb touching her cheekbone.
Vibrant, possessive green eyes ensnared hers. “I didn’t call you because I couldn’t. Every waking minute in that hellish jungle was a struggle to survive, and the only thing that kept me alive was the thought of you.”
All the air left her lungs. Every word she’d ever spoken vanished from her memory bank as his statement fell around her in the deathly quiet room.
She blinked twice.
He continued, speaking slowly and deliberately. “If you think for one minute that I didn’t want to murder your new boyfriend with my bare fucking hands, you’re dead wrong.”
Oxygen left their little cubicle, and she swallowed with the effort it took to absorb his menacing admission.
“Because in my mind, he took you from me.” August’s hungry gaze tethered her to the spot. And then he dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers.
His bristly stubble was a sharp contrast to his soft, warm lips. She clutched his shirt, the world tilting as she sank into the heat of his body. He slipped his tongue between her teeth and his heady flavor filled her senses, making a moan escape from her throat.
He brought his hands to her waist and urged her backward until she leaned against the elevator wall. The elevator hummed as if waiting for them to push a button, but the beating of her heart almost drowned out the sound.
Need fissured through her as she moved her hand down the hard wall of his abdomen. Her fingers ached to discard the material separating their bodies. August’s palm slid beneath her shirt, his skin hot and rough on her belly.
She wanted more.
Gripping the back of his neck with her other hand, she held him in place and arched her neck to allow him deeper access to her mouth.
August groaned. The rumble was deep and unbridled. His mouth broke away for a second. “Goddamn,” he mumbled, his breath warm on her face.
She crushed her lips to his again, and his fingers went to the waistband of her jeans. They slipped inside before she could stop him.
Not that she would.
His fingertips brushed over her clit and her eyes kicked back.
Oh, god.
“Mmm,” she purred. He was already touching her, the tips of his digits spreading her heat. She cried out, the sound high-pitched and desperate.
“That’s it, honey,” he ordered quietly. “Let go.”
She wanted all of him. Without fear of someone walking in on them, without being heard, without—
He sank the length of his fingers into her.
Holy shit.
She gasped, clinging to his shoulders for support. His face burrowed into the crook of her neck, nuzzling and kissing the sensitive flesh beneath her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her hypersensitive skin, bringing her to the threshold.
Her nerve endings sang as pleasure swarmed through the lowest part of her abdomen. Wetness pooled between her legs as August stroked gently. Her heavy panting filled the tight space, but she didn’t care.
The possibility of someone walking in both excited and terrified her. August touched his thumb to her clit and her body jerked. She cried out, the gush of release too great to contain.
His mouth came down on hers, silencing her pitiful cries. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her as she rode the current of her orgasm. Her insides throbbed around his large fingers, which stretched her with each pulse of his hand.
Ever so slowly her breath evened, and August synced his fingers with the ebbing ripples of pleasure. Her muscles went slack, and his mouth moved from hers to kiss her cheek then her neck. He peeled his hand away and brought his soaked fingers to his lips.
He sucked off the moisture, his eyes dark and lust filled.
Her belly bottomed out with desire, but before she could react, he leaned away and punched the button marked 23.