Long Road Home by Maya Banks Page A

to hers. Her chest began to pound in a steady cadence, and she was robbed of breath. With infinite tenderness, he brushed his lips across hers. He was so gentle it made her want to weep. He held her like a piece of glass, one that might shatter with the slightest untoward movement.
    She leaned hungrily into him, not caring that she intended to take his trust and trample it. All that mattered was that he kept on touching her. She could feel, really feel, for the first time in a long time.
    His tongue laved across her lips, seeking entrance. Instantly, they parted, and he probed inward, lightly, delicately. One hand delved into her hair to the back of her head, coaxing her closer to him, as if trying to fuse their souls together.
    “I should have died,” she whispered against his lips. “It should have been me. Not Mom and Pop.” She choked on the upsurge of grief.
    “No. No .” He was a mere inch from her lips, his breath blowing hot over her face. Emotion knotted his voice. “Don’t say it, Jules. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. You have no idea the hell I endured when you disappeared.”
    He kissed her temple then her cheek, and finally he reclaimed her lips with a light, tender kiss.
    She felt the stirrings deep within, the faint whisper of something she desperately needed. Wanted. But couldn’t have. The thought threw a wet blanket over her, and she pulled slowly away.
    She drew in a steadying breath, trying to regain control of her desires. She felt exhausted by the myriad of emotions she’d experienced in rapid succession. It would be the easiest thing in the world to melt in his arms and see where the night would take them. But she wouldn’t use Manny more than she already was.
    “Go to sleep, baby.” Manny pulled her down beside him and tucked the cover over them both.
    She knew she should return to her own bed, but she couldn’t deny herself the comfort of his embrace. Snuggling deep into his arms, she laid her head on his chest, closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Manuel stood by the bed watching Jules sleep. She was curled up in a ball like a kitten. He wanted to reach out and touch her but didn’t want to disturb her. Perhaps sleep was the only time she could escape the horrors that haunted her.
    How had things become such a mess? Years ago, all he had wanted was a normal life. Marry Jules, have a few kids, live the American dream. Even his recruitment into the CIA didn’t hinder his goals. He’d dedicate a few years to Uncle Sam then go on to more normal pursuits.
    Instead he’d been locked in a never-ending nightmare. The difficulties facing him and Jules seemed insurmountable. He wasn’t naive, and he wasn’t an eternal optimist. He had no clear idea how he was going to extricate them from this cluster fuck.
    The NFR was obviously pissed enough to want to take her out, and if the U.S. government ever found out about her involvement, much less the things she’d done during her years with a known terrorist organization, they’d throw her under the jail.
    In this climate, terrorists weren’t tolerated at all. You didn’t even so much as hint that you were sympathetic to such causes or you’d draw the ever-omnipotent eye of Big Brother.
    And where did that leave him? CIA agent aiding and abetting a known terrorist cell member. Jesus, it didn’t even bear contemplating.
    He checked his watch. They still had an hour before he needed to wake her so they could catch their flight. He walked into the bathroom to call Tony.
    “I was just going to call you,” Tony said.
    “What’s up?”
    “I have the info you requested. NFR’s recruitment tactics.”
    Manuel burned with anger over the mere mention of their tactics . They were no better than animals.
    “They’re pretty tame when compared to most radical groups,” Tony continued on. “Basically their M.O. is to approach a subject, outline the group’s objective, leave a way to contact them and