Wicked Sexy

34

14

TABBY

I

t takes several hours to unload all my equipment from Connor’s Hummer and set it up. During that time, Miranda retires to her office to get some sleep on the couch—it’s past midnight—O’Doul and I have arrived at a tenuous truce brought about by my successful

effort to thwart Søren’s malware attack with an antimalware program of my own, and Connor has become increasingly agitated.

I’m not sure anyone else would notice it, but I’m attuned to him now. To his facial tics and the timbre of his voice, to the way he holds himself when under strain yet trying to look as if he’s not.

He’s exceptionally good at maintaining his composure…except when he looks at me.

When he looks at me, his eyes blaze so hot, I think I might ignite.

This time, however, it’s unclear if the fire in his eyes is lust.

“Can I have a word?” he says under his breath, leaning over my shoulder.

My hands freeze on the keyboard. I glance up to find him staring down at me, his face like a slab of granite. “Now isn’t really a good time,” I say, stalling. “I’m searching the root directory for—” “I’ll meet you in the ladies’ room.” He turns and strides away, his back stiff.

I glance around. In spite of my warnings to the contrary, all the agents are at their computers, avidly searching for the name Søren Killgaard in every directory and database they have access to, including O’Doul, who is pecking away relentlessly with his stubby index fingers at a laptop.

They won’t find anything—as I told them they wouldn’t—but the real problem is that now Søren will know they have his name.

And he’ll start wondering who gave it to them.

I rise as casually as I can and wander out of the room as if I just need to stretch my legs.

The ladies’ room is down the hall. I enter with trepidation, dreading what’s on the other side of the door:

Connor, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread apart, scowling.

“Funny meeting you here.” I let the door swing shut behind me.

“What was your relationship with Søren Killgaard.”

It isn’t a question, it’s a demand, delivered with dangerous softness. I decide to sidestep. “In the words of your client, my feelings about the subject are immaterial.”

“I didn’t ask about your feelings. I asked about your relationship.”

We stare at each other. The color is high in his cheeks. His breathing is slightly irregular.

“Why?” I ask softly. “Are you jealous?”

“f**k yes,” comes the instant, husky response. “But that’s not why I’m asking.”

A little thrill burns through me at his admission. “Then why are you asking?”

“Because there’s a hell of a lot you’re not telling me, and that lack of knowledge could compromise this job.”

“We’ve already been over this.”

“Let’s go over it again.”

After a long, tense interval, I say, “No.”

His arms unfold. He takes a step toward me. I take a step back.

“Why not?” he asks, and his voice is velvet darkness.

My heart begins to beat faster. I’m not afraid of him; it’s his intensity that’s getting to me. His proximity. The way I can recall with perfect clarity how he sounds when he comes.

I moisten my lips. “Because it’s none of your business.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. It stops him dead in his tracks with a look of incredulity on his face. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

My ears go scalding hot. “We had a deal. One night, remember? One night to get it out of our systems, and then we’d never mention it again.”

He softly corrects me, “One night and one morning.”

The way he’s looking at me makes my n*****s hard and sends a rush of heat between my legs. I can’t help it, my body responds to this man like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. I’m an addict, he’s a needle full of heroin, and even though I know I’m not supposed to want it, I do.

He must see something in my expression, because his dark, dark eyes turn an even deeper shade of black. He takes another step toward me.

“Connor,” I warn, backing up. “Yes, Tabitha?”

“I’m going to touch you everywhere, Tabitha. Anywhere I want, anywhere it pleases me.”

The way he says my full name, the deeply s****l tone of it, sends my heart racing. I retreat another step until my back comes in contact with the door.

Connor advances. Lifting his arms, he sets his palms flat against the door on either side of my head. He leans in close to my face. “You were about to say something.”

“You said we were both professionals.” I try to keep my voice stern, but fail. The words are a breathy whisper, more come closer than stay away.

“We are. And I’m asking—from one professional to another—what your relationship to Søren Killgaard was so I can then determine how much satisfaction I’m going to get from putting the bastard in prison.”

He’s betraying himself. A moment ago, he said it was about compromising the job. I’m amazed to find myself reaching up to touch his face. He stills when my fingers come in contact with his skin. His breathing goes ragged. I see the pulse pounding in his throat.

In a shaking voice, I tell him the truth. “I was the only person who ever told him no, and he punished me for it.”

His hand covers mine. If I’m not imagining it, his tone is hopeful. “You weren’t in love with him?”