Seduced by the Storm by Sydney Croft

this time, there would be no more second chances.
    "I
don’t know my dad’s name," she yelled, and Creed stopped in his tracks.
    "What?"
    She
could barely see him through the tears welling in her eyes. "My dad. I
don’t know who he is. The CIA forged a birth certificate and destroyed all
original records."
    He
moved toward her, slowly, as though he suspected she’d planted land mines
between them. "Why are you telling me this?"
    "A
long time ago, you said I didn’t let you in." She took a few shaky steps.
"I want to let you in. I’ll tell you the answers to everything you’ve
asked and I’ve avoided answering. You want to know why I had to eat fish
pudding when I was a kid? You want to know when I learned that the people who
were raising me weren’t my parents? You want to know why I never celebrated
Christmas or my birthday? I’ll tell you." Another step brought her within
ten feet of him. "Let me tell you."
    She
dashed away the tears and saw that his expression had softened, but not enough.
"Annika—"
    "I
don’t want this to be the end," she croaked.
    "Why?"
    She
trembled. Swallowed. Worked saliva into her mouth because she couldn’t speak
for the dryness.
    "Why?"
he repeated, his voice as hoarse as hers.
    "Because
I’m afraid of losing you." She stared into his eyes, made sure he
understood how much this meant to her. "And I’ve never been afraid of
anything, so this must mean something."
    Suddenly,
Creed’s arms were around her, and he was holding her up, which was good,
because emotion had made her legs rubbery. He was murmuring into her ear,
sweet, comforting words, and she sighed with relief.
    Things
would be different from here on out, no question. Creed would no longer settle
for just sex, would require a real effort from her. The idea brought her both
joy and dread, because she had a feeling that Creed’s ability to share her with
the other man in her life had just come to a screeching halt.

CHAPTER Eight
    Shortly
after Faith left his quarters, Wyatt walked outside and stood on the edge of
the platform, looked out into the swelling ocean that seemed unable to calm
itself since the earlier storm. The entire atmosphere seemed strange,
discontented, and the unease settled deep in his gut.
    This
mission—the failure of this mission—could bring on the end of the motherfucking
world, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to help beyond destroying the
motherboard to prevent future disasters like the hurricane currently
threatening to strike the United States.
    At
that point, it was all on Remy’s shoulders.
    He
moved back and gripped the deck rails hard, hung his head and tried to get rid
of the dizzy feeling that had been rearing its head more and more often. The
off-the-rails feeling was related to his gifts, had hit him hard since he’d
gotten onto the platform. Had hit him even harder since he’d been with…
    "Wyatt,
are you okay?" Faith’s voice floated over him, half-lost in the wind.
    "I’m
great. Fine. Perfect," he said. He lifted his head but didn’t look at her.
Couldn’t. He knew every emotion would show on his face and he took a minute to
compose. To get back into Wyatt-the-roughneck mode, to a place where it was all
good and nothing could shake his game.
    "Okay,
then, if you’re sure."
    "I’m
not sure of anything," he admitted. "But I didn’t mean to freak you
out before. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you. I don’t want to keep my
hands off you."
    "I’m
not freaked out," she said, but he had the feeling she was lying.
    "That
makes one of us, then."
    She
turned to him and he shifted his weight and moved to hold them both steady as
the wind churned up and rocked the platform. He locked his arms around her,
holding on to either side of the pipe railing. "It’s all right—I’ve got
you."
    "Why
are you freaked out, Wyatt?" she asked, concern in her eyes.
    "Lots
of complicated reasons, Faith Black. Too complicated to go into here."
    "Funny
thing, I understand