Enemy’s Touch: He’s Everything I Shouldn’t Want

Rae’s fingers tightened around the worn handle of her Glock, her breath shallow as she pressed her back to the crumbling wall of the abandoned warehouse. Her heels clicked against the cement floor, betraying her presence for just a heartbeat. She cursed inwardly. A seasoned agent shouldn’t make a mistake like that. Not now. The target was supposed to be alone. He wasn’t. And now, neither was she. “I expected someone older,” a voice said from behind her. Low. Dangerous. Laced with something Rae couldn’t place—humor, maybe. Or desire. She spun, weapon raised. He was leaning against a steel beam, arms crossed, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. Ethan Knight. Ex-intelligence officer. Fugitive. And—she hated admitting this—devastatingly good-looking. He didn’t flinch at the sight of her gun. In fact, he looked amused. “Rae Donovan,” he said, as if her name were something he liked the taste of. “You’re even prettier than your dossier photo.” “I’ll shoot you.” “I don’t doubt it,” he said, stepping closer. “But not tonight.” She should’ve pulled the trigger. Should’ve called for backup. Should’ve remembered every protocol drilled into her since day one. Instead, Rae hesitated. One second too long. And that’s all it took. Ethan reached her in a blur, hand catching her wrist before twisting the gun from her fingers. The weapon clattered to the floor. She cursed again. Louder this time. “Easy,” he murmured. His hand was still on her wrist, warm, firm, and maddeningly steady. “You’re shaking.” “I’m not.” But she was. Maybe from adrenaline. Maybe from how close he was. Maybe from something else entirely. He stepped even closer, until her back was pressed against the wall again—this time not from hiding, but from his presence. The air between them buzzed with tension, sharp as static before lightning. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice low. “I want to know why the Bureau sent you,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “You’re not just anyone.” “Neither are you.” His smile faded. “That’s the problem.” They stood there, inches apart. His hand was still on her wrist, thumb stroking the inside, where her pulse betrayed everything she wasn’t saying. “You’re wasting time,” she said. “So are you,” he replied. Then, softer, “Why haven’t you called for backup?” She didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know. Or maybe she did—and didn’t want to face it. She could smell him—leather, rain, and something darker. Her body knew what her mind refused to admit: She didn’t feel like a hunter right now. She felt like the hunted. And Ethan knew it. “You should be careful, Rae,” he whispered, voice grazing her ear. “I’m not the kind of man you can control.” “I’m not the kind of woman who needs to.” Their eyes locked. Something shifted. Something cracked. And then— He kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a crash of fire and ice, all heat and danger and teeth. She kissed him back. Just for a moment. Long enough to lose herself. Long enough to feel his hands grip her waist, rough and certain, tugging her against him like he already owned her. Long enough to forget who she was. And who he was. Until— She broke away, breathless. “This doesn’t change anything.” “I know,” he said. “But you still kissed me.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pretending it didn’t burn. “If you think this will stop me from taking you in…” “I don’t,” he said. “But I think you want me to run.” “Why would I want that?” “So you don’t have to choose.” Silence. And then, softer than anything she’d ever said: “Run, Ethan.” He didn’t ask again. He just disappeared into the shadows. Leaving Rae alone. Weaponless. Breathless. Wanting more.