to get it out of her system so they could talk.
There was plenty he needed to know, wanted to know, but there were probably
still bugs in the room that he’d missed and possibly a camera, which meant they
couldn’t talk here.
“You—”
Attie began, but he crossed the room in two strides and drew her into his arms
tight enough to press her face into his shoulder and cut her off.
Lowering
his head, he whispered in her ear, “We can’t talk here. More bugs. Possible
camera. Shower.”
Attie
pulled back to glare at him, shaking her head firmly.
“It’s
the only way,” he whispered.
She
clearly wasn’t happy about it but she knew he was right and stalked into the
bathroom. If Santiago watched he would think he’d been right about Attie not
coming easily.
Noah
followed her into the bathroom and saw her standing inside the shower with the
water on. Fully dressed.
He
hoped there wasn’t a camera in the shower because this would look awfully
suspicious. Or maybe be written off as her being very, very stubborn. That
wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
Slipping
out of his shoes and socks, Noah opened the glass door and stepped inside,
adjusting the water so that it sprayed at his feet instead of his back. Attie
glared at him from the corner of the shower.
“You
don’t get to rescue me, Kincaid. I can take care of myself.”
“Are
you calling me a white knight?” he asked mildly. He knew she wasn’t, but he
wanted her to relax. Tonight was about her. They didn’t know what tomorrow
would bring, so they needed to make the most of now. She’d been thrown for a
loop over the necklace, and though he still didn’t understand it, she needed to
get it out of her mind.
She
crossed her arms over her chest.
“I
didn’t think so.” Serious now, Noah studied her closely and asked, “Are you
okay?”
Attie
wilted in front of him and suddenly he saw the toll this was taking on her. The
bruise on her jaw seemed more pronounced and the circles under her eyes stood
out more against her pale skin. God knew what she must be feeling, seeing
Santiago again. He reached for her.
She
straightened, lifted her chin and held up a hand to stop him. “Please,” she
said. “Don’t. I can’t. Just…don’t. What are we going to do?”
“We
play by Santiago’s rules for now until opportunity arises for us to find
Brendan and get the hell out of here.”
Attie
had begun to shiver. She wrapped her arms around her waist and huddled in the
corner.
“Trade
places with me,” he suggested. “I’m cooking in all these clothes.” He wasn’t,
but he couldn’t tell her that. She’d never agree otherwise.
She
hesitated, searched his face warily, and then nodded.
The
task should have been an easy one, but given his size and the close confines of
the tub it proved to be a difficult maneuver. Especially with Attie trying not
to touch him. They met in the middle, bodies pressed together, and froze at the
same time. He looked down as she looked up, putting their mouths very close
together. Noah stared at the bruise on her jaw, the water drops clinging to her
hair, the tense set of her chin. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and traced
the shadow along her jaw, wishing he could erase it.
“Damn
your temper,” he murmured.
* * * *
Attie
couldn’t move. She felt the spray of warm water on her arm and leg but barely
gave it a thought as Noah’s hand caressed her jaw. The heat of his body warmed
her better than the shower. She could feel every inch of him where he pressed
against her, the mixture of hard planes and thick muscle. His scent filled her
lungs with each breath, creating an answering response in her belly. He was all
male, potent and invasive. He stormed her senses, making her forget what he had
done and why she couldn’t do this.
His
fingers trailed along her neck to rest on her collarbone and she shivered. This
time not because she was cold.
He
wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She shouldn’t
There was plenty he needed to know, wanted to know, but there were probably
still bugs in the room that he’d missed and possibly a camera, which meant they
couldn’t talk here.
“You—”
Attie began, but he crossed the room in two strides and drew her into his arms
tight enough to press her face into his shoulder and cut her off.
Lowering
his head, he whispered in her ear, “We can’t talk here. More bugs. Possible
camera. Shower.”
Attie
pulled back to glare at him, shaking her head firmly.
“It’s
the only way,” he whispered.
She
clearly wasn’t happy about it but she knew he was right and stalked into the
bathroom. If Santiago watched he would think he’d been right about Attie not
coming easily.
Noah
followed her into the bathroom and saw her standing inside the shower with the
water on. Fully dressed.
He
hoped there wasn’t a camera in the shower because this would look awfully
suspicious. Or maybe be written off as her being very, very stubborn. That
wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
Slipping
out of his shoes and socks, Noah opened the glass door and stepped inside,
adjusting the water so that it sprayed at his feet instead of his back. Attie
glared at him from the corner of the shower.
“You
don’t get to rescue me, Kincaid. I can take care of myself.”
“Are
you calling me a white knight?” he asked mildly. He knew she wasn’t, but he
wanted her to relax. Tonight was about her. They didn’t know what tomorrow
would bring, so they needed to make the most of now. She’d been thrown for a
loop over the necklace, and though he still didn’t understand it, she needed to
get it out of her mind.
She
crossed her arms over her chest.
“I
didn’t think so.” Serious now, Noah studied her closely and asked, “Are you
okay?”
Attie
wilted in front of him and suddenly he saw the toll this was taking on her. The
bruise on her jaw seemed more pronounced and the circles under her eyes stood
out more against her pale skin. God knew what she must be feeling, seeing
Santiago again. He reached for her.
She
straightened, lifted her chin and held up a hand to stop him. “Please,” she
said. “Don’t. I can’t. Just…don’t. What are we going to do?”
“We
play by Santiago’s rules for now until opportunity arises for us to find
Brendan and get the hell out of here.”
Attie
had begun to shiver. She wrapped her arms around her waist and huddled in the
corner.
“Trade
places with me,” he suggested. “I’m cooking in all these clothes.” He wasn’t,
but he couldn’t tell her that. She’d never agree otherwise.
She
hesitated, searched his face warily, and then nodded.
The
task should have been an easy one, but given his size and the close confines of
the tub it proved to be a difficult maneuver. Especially with Attie trying not
to touch him. They met in the middle, bodies pressed together, and froze at the
same time. He looked down as she looked up, putting their mouths very close
together. Noah stared at the bruise on her jaw, the water drops clinging to her
hair, the tense set of her chin. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and traced
the shadow along her jaw, wishing he could erase it.
“Damn
your temper,” he murmured.
* * * *
Attie
couldn’t move. She felt the spray of warm water on her arm and leg but barely
gave it a thought as Noah’s hand caressed her jaw. The heat of his body warmed
her better than the shower. She could feel every inch of him where he pressed
against her, the mixture of hard planes and thick muscle. His scent filled her
lungs with each breath, creating an answering response in her belly. He was all
male, potent and invasive. He stormed her senses, making her forget what he had
done and why she couldn’t do this.
His
fingers trailed along her neck to rest on her collarbone and she shivered. This
time not because she was cold.
He
wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She shouldn’t
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