Seduced by the Storm (26 page)

"Hiding?"

He
leaned close, put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Under the
collar."

Gravity
reached up and grabbed her, and if it hadn’t been for Wyatt’s weight holding
her upright, she’d have gone down to the wet tile. "I don’t know what
you’re talking about."

"How
did you become a secret agent?" His thumb continued to play with the strip
of fabric, and she had to concentrate to keep breathing. "Because you lie
for shit."

You
lie for shit.
As far as insults went,
that was one of the worst. Right up there with "You’re a terrible
shot" and "You stand out in a crowd." Her life frequently
depended on her ability to lie, but with Wyatt it was as if she’d forgotten
how. She rarely slipped, and even Sean, who had known her better than anyone,
hadn’t seen through her professional façade—not until Wyatt had cracked it wide
open, leaving her weak and exposed.

Her
voice quavered humiliatingly. "Fuck you."

"Been
there, done that, and we’ll do it again. But first you’ll tell me what you’re
concealing."

"I’ll
do no such thing," she growled, jamming her hands between them to shove
him away.

He
didn’t budge. "Guess we do this the hard way." He ripped off her
choker.

Instinct
had her reaching up to cover herself, her heart pounding, her breath coming in
shallow gasps. Wyatt blocked her arms, grabbed her wrists.

"Let
go!" Struggling wildly, she crunched her foot down on his and in the same
motion lifted her knee to nail him in his dangly bits, but he pressed against
her, crushing her, preventing her from causing much damage.

"Faith!
Stop!"

But
she couldn’t. She kept her head down, hiding her throat as she pushed against
him, too worked up now to even try reaching for her power. He’d stripped her of
one of her shields, leaving her vulnerable, just like he’d said.

"You
bastard!" she screamed, her struggles growing more frantic, more vicious.
Despite his grip on her wrists, she managed to land a blow to his chin and
scratch a bloody streak down his cheek.

"Dammit,"
he breathed. "What is wrong with—
oof!
—you?" He took a risk
then, let go of her left arm and grabbed her hair to wrench her head back,
exposing her throat. His eyes went wide. "Jesus."

"Let
go of me!"

He
released her, stepped back, but the damage had been done. She couldn’t move,
her legs too rubbery, but she did bring one hand up to cover her throat.

"What
happened?" he asked quietly.

For a
moment, Faith did nothing but tremble, suddenly chilled despite the steam.
Finally, she looked up, saw a man watching her with concern. A man she could
fall in love with. A man who would kill her if ACRO ordered it.

"I
let down my guard," she said. "I trusted the wrong man."

With
that, she fled.

FAITH
STOOD in her bedroom, staring at the bundle of clothes ML had left on the bed
while she’d been in the shower with Wyatt. She was still dripping, practically
hyperventilating after fleeing Wyatt’s room. She’d been in such a rush that
she’d left her robe on his floor, had run naked down the hall to her room.
Security guys had stared from their posts at the top of the stairs, but she
hadn’t cared.

Well,
shit.

She
had not handled things well. She’d been off her game from the moment she’d seen
Wyatt on the offshore platform, had lost complete control when she’d stepped
inside the helicopter, and now she’d allowed him to see her mark of shame.

She
fingered the thin white line that circled her throat, the scar even Sean hadn’t
seen.

God,
how stupid was it that she was worried about a damned scar when her sister’s
life was on the line?

Selfish
twat.

She
needed to check the safe where she’d stashed the motherboard and video phone
Liberty’s captors had sent. She planned to make the call late tonight, let them
know she had the merchandise and needed new instructions.

Hopefully,
this nightmare would be over by the end of the week.

A
fist pounding on her door made her jump. "Faith? Open up."

"Leave
me alone, Wyatt," she sighed, even though she knew him well enough now to
know he wouldn’t do anything of the sort.

Quickly,
she grabbed another robe from the closet—the dodgy ML guy must keep the entire
wing stocked like a hotel—but instead of using the sash to close it, she
wrapped it around her throat. She looked ridiculous, no doubt, but she didn’t
care.

"You
know the lock won’t keep me out," Wyatt said quietly.

She
sank down on the bed, utterly exhausted. "That’s why it’s not
locked."

"Oh."
The door opened, and he strode inside, wearing a pair of sweat shorts and
nothing else except the beads of water that said he hadn’t bothered to dry off.

The
bed sank as he sat down next to her.

"I
don’t want to talk about it."

"Then
I will." Wyatt tipped her face toward him with a finger under her chin.
"Your throat was slit, and it had something to do with Sean."

"You’re
mostly right."

Wyatt’s
gaze locked with hers, holding her as his fingers slowly peeled away the
bathrobe sash. Her hands formed fists in her lap, but she let him, tired of
fighting. The sash dropped to the floor, and only then did Wyatt’s gaze drop to
her neck. Instinctively, she flinched, hunched her shoulders to hide the mark,
but his long fingers stroked her throat with such gentle care that she relaxed
by slow increments.

"A
wire," he murmured. "A garrote. Sean tried to kill you?"

"One
of his men." She tugged the edges of the robe together, hugging the sleek
material to her body. "Sean’s team and I were in Paris, both after the
same thing."

She
remembered it so clearly, the only recurring nightmare she had that didn’t
involve her sister or parents.

"I’d
just seen Sean at his hotel. He swore to me that he wouldn’t interfere in my
search. He’d never given me cause not to believe him, so I took him at his
word." God, she was such a fool. Couldn’t believe she was telling Wyatt
this. He was going to think she was a complete idiot. Especially after their
discussion about Sean on the helicopter.

"I
found the artifact, a bone fragment dipped in gold and stolen from a Spanish
monk’s tomb, in the catacombs beneath the city. I thought I’d been careful,
but…"

"You’d
trusted Sean."

"Yes."
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath before continuing. "Two of his men
ambushed me. I killed one, but the other, Marco, he got the upper hand. Would
have killed me if I hadn’t been able to get to the stiletto in my boot. But he got
away with the artifact." She rubbed her throat, the pain of the event
still lingering. "The wire cut deep, nicked my jugular. I barely made it
to the hospital in time."

"And
Sean?"

"He
sent flowers. Said right on the card that Marco hadn’t been authorized to kill
me and that he’d be punished. Which would explain why he followed me into the
bar the day I met you. He wanted revenge."

"That
fucker was the one who nearly killed you?"

"What,
you thought I was really running from an ex?"

He
shrugged. "At the time. I’ve been a little busy since finding out who you
are to think about how we met."

"What
did you think you’d find beneath my choker?"

"A
birthmark, maybe. A small scar. You play with your chokers when you’re nervous,
and you never take them off, so I figured there was a story there. I didn’t
expect…"

"A
horror story?"

His
eyes, so green and clear, with a ring of gold near the pupils, leveled at her.
So intense. So expressive, but only at times like this, when they weren’t in
danger and no one was trying to kill them. Which seemed to happen a lot.

"I’m
sorry, Faith. I didn’t mean to—"

Smiling,
she placed her palm on his cheek. "Yes you did. We were both trying to
strip each other down, and we were playing dirty. It’s what we do."

"I
don’t want to do that anymore."

"Neither
do I," she murmured.

She
opened herself up to her power, sent a thread of it to his brain’s pleasure
center while at the same time smoothing a healing wave over the scratch she’d
made.

"Shit,"
he rasped. "I can’t decide if your gift is cool or really fucking
scary." He covered her hand with his. "You said you learned to
recognize Sean’s power. Could he do the same?"

"Yes."

"How?"

She
shook her head, not wanting to give away such crucial secrets, but something
inside her, something strangely protective, wanted to make sure Wyatt was armed
with knowledge that could save him in a fight with someone like Sean. Or her.

"In
telekinetics who can affect the human body, there’s always a tell. An
individual signature that’s different for everyone. It’s usually extremely
subtle, hard to pinpoint—"

"Just
before you use your power on me, my teeth hurt. Like when you bite down on
aluminum foil."

That
was how Sean had described her signature as well. Real bloody subtle.

His
wound healed, she cut off her power. Dropped her hand and her gaze, hoped Wyatt
would drop the subject. "Don’t you ever wish…no, never mind."

"Wish
what?" His voice was low, soothing, and when his hand engulfed hers, that
was soothing too.

"This
is going to sound so silly." She felt herself blush. "Do you ever
wish we didn’t have to do some of the things we do?"

"You
mean like hurt each other when what we want to do is be together?"

Her
cheeks grew hot, and something low in her belly fluttered. "Yes," she
whispered.

She
longed to be able to let down her guard with someone who knew about her gifts,
but she couldn’t trust anyone outside her agency, and she couldn’t date anyone
on the inside, not when she was the boss.

"Do
you plan to hurt me now?" He cupped her jaw and lifted her face to his.

"No."
Swallowing dryly, as if she was an untouched virgin, she took him in, his
thick, dark eyebrows, his sharp cheekbones, his firm mouth, which had pleasured
her well and often.

Her
body pulsed with desire at the thought, at the way his muscles tensed beneath his
deeply tanned skin, as though preparing to pounce. As she watched, the rise and
fall of his chest grew more rapid, as did hers.

"You’re
not—"

"This
isn’t my mojo, Faith. This is us. Together."

He
lowered his mouth to hers, touched her with his lips, his hand on her face. She
softened instantly, turning inside out at the tenderness of the kiss. His
tongue flicked over her lower lip, but when she opened up to him, he didn’t
enter, keeping the heat at a low simmer instead of the white-hot inferno they
usually shared.

This
was exquisite. Though she wanted more, so much that she squirmed as her sex
flooded and her breasts tightened, she didn’t push. She let him give and take,
let him build the tide of need until they melted together and she was clinging
to his biceps like he might change his mind.

"Please,
Wyatt," she gasped against his lips, too late realizing she was begging.
Again. Just like he’d said she would.

Still
kissing her, he wrapped his arm around her and lowered her onto the bed.

Cool
air whispered over her skin as her robe fell open. Wyatt’s hands, warm and a
little work-roughened, slid over her body, leaving tingles everywhere he
touched. When he cupped her breasts, used his thumbs to circle her hardened
nipples, she moaned. He swallowed the sound with his own deep growl and then
broke off the kiss.

His
lips were red and glistening, slightly parted. Without thinking, she reached up
and traced them with the pads of two fingers. They were softer than they
looked, silky and moist. Perfectly shaped, like the rest of him.

She
wanted to spend all night exploring his body this way, and she would.

"You’re
so beautiful, Faith." He caught her fingers in his mouth and drew them in,
sucked on them, laved them with his tongue, and she swore she could feel it in
her core.

As
though he couldn’t help it, his hips surged, rocking the hard ridge of his cock
against her thigh. He released her fingers on a ragged breath and ducked his
head to suckle her breast instead.

"Oh,
yes," she breathed, shifting on the bed so he was between her legs and his
shaft was rubbing in exactly the right place.

They
knew they’d both reached the end of their slow fuses when suddenly his hands
were all over her and her hands were shoving his shorts down over his hips.
Somehow the shorts ended up on the floor alongside her robe, and then Wyatt
pulled her up onto the pillows and slid down her body.