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I imagine him smirking, his blue eyes shining brightly as he moves over my nakedness.
In my fantasy, he doesn’t laugh at me, he doesn’t tease me.
He doesn’t call me the F-word.
In my fantasy, I’m as sexy and glamorous as the women at the ball were.
After fifteen minutes, he closes the laptop and places it on the glass coffee table.
“Any progress?” I ask.
Jett growls out a sigh. “No. I killed the connection. I don’t want anyone tracking us. There’s nothing in the usual channels. It seems you’re a mystery, Juliana.”
“Not as much of a mystery as you,” I murmur, trying to subtly direct him back to our conversation in the car.
He reads my meaning and nods shortly.
“Don’t forget our deal,” he says, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and stares firmly at me.
His eyes flit up and down my body, tingles dancing at every hot place his eyes touch, from the tips of my toes and all the way to my scalp.
Do I imagine it, or does he linger on my breasts a moment longer than everywhere else?
I wonder how he’d react if he knew how inexperienced, how incapable, I was in that regard.
I’ll have to tell him, and then what?
Will it shatter everything?
“I’ll give you the bullet points if you care that much,” he says gruffly.
I sit up and stare hard at him.
“Well, yes,” I snap. “I do care that much. Because two men tried to kill me tonight, and you were hired to kill me, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s going on. So excuse me for wanting to—”
“Okay, okay,” he says, chuckling grimly. “You really are a fiery thing, aren’t you? Relax.”
I almost snap at him, telling him I don’t need to relax. But I don’t want to push him too hard. I need to know who he is, to ground myself in some way so that I’m not just drifting aimlessly through all this madness without anything to hold onto.
He leans back, putting his arm over the back of the couch. My mind slips me into that place, his arm wrapped around me, his hand moving through my hair and then over my shoulder, toward my breast.
I push the image away.
His request could be anything—it could be hitman-related.
Maybe he wants to use me as bait, something like that.
I could be misreading this whole situation.
“I was raised by good people,” he says. “My father was in the army and my mother was a housewife. I’m an only child. I joined the SEALs straight out of high school and I served three tours, saw a lot of combat. Then there was a fire at my parents’ place. It killed my old man and my mom got it bad with smoke inhalation. I came home to care for her. That’s when I started this life. I needed money for her medical bills. By the time her lungs finally killed her, it was all I knew. Or maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe it feels good knowing that there are a few less evil bastards in this world.”
He stares into space as if seeing a reality all of his own.
I try to find any notion of deceit in his words, detect any sign that he’s making this up to try and win sympathy with me.
But all I get is hard, hammering truth.
I believe him.
Maybe that makes me more naïve than I thought.
But when he told me he’d never lie to me, the words shattered into my heart and spread and kissed every single part of it, swelling inside of me, telling me that he’s true, he’s honest, he’s mine.
And I’m his.
And you’re insane, a voice mutters drily. Get a grip.
“A house fire,” I murmur, flames hissing and spitting in my mind, a long-buried fear momentarily resurfacing.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Fucking dryer overheated. Just one of those things.”
“What about your old SEAL friends?” I ask.
“What about them?”
“Do you still see them?”
He shakes his head slowly, turning to me. “I don’t see anybody. It’s easier that way. I do my work and I keep to myself. I’ve lived like a goddamn machine for more years than I care to think about. I never cared, before.”
“Before what?” I whisper, mouth dry.
He smirks and lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle.
“Don’t play dumb, Juliana,” he growls. “You know what this is. You know what you’re doing to me.”
My clit gives a tight, hot throb and my nipples start to burn. He stares at me with that pin-you-in-place gaze of his, as though he’s never seen a woman before, as though I’m the most fascinating person he’s ever laid his eyes on.
His eyes glimmer. His smirk twitches.
“Are you satisfied?” he growls.
“Huh?”
“Did you learn what you needed to learn?”
I nod, my mouth suddenly dry, my sex anything but.
“Yes,” I say.
“Good,” he snarls. “Because now it’s time you held up your end of the bargain.”
