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Her nails were still biting into his shoulders. Forcing herself to release that hold on him, she instead flattened her palms against his flesh, desperate to retain the feeling of being so much a part of him.
“You’re like a flame against me,” he whispered, brushing her hair aside and placing a kiss at the side of her neck. “So sweet and hot.”
She had to fight back the tears even as she forced herself to restrain the words that rose to her lips. Was he Trent? She could feel it, that same touch, his kiss, a suspicion that was destroying her from the inside out.
If he was, then he had deserted her. He had taken the emotion that had existed between them and he’d walked away with a part of her that she had never been able to replace.
And she had existed in a void that had been empty, without direction.
Until John.
In that second Bailey realized the mistakes she had made in the past five years. How Trent’s “death” had affected her. How it had nearly destroyed her own life.
She pushed herself from him and rolled to her side, eyes still closed even as she felt his hand stroke along her stomach.
Her skin was still so sensitive to the touch that a little shudder worked through her.
She had nearly destroyed herself because she had lost Trent. How weak was that? She, who had always thought herself so strong, so intent and determined. She had lost herself when she had lost Trent. Or John. Or whatever the hell he was calling himself on this operation.
“Bailey, stop drawing away from me.” His voice hardened at her side. “I can feel you doing it.”
She opened her eyes, turned her head, and stared back at him.
How ruggedly handsome he was. Dark blond hair, darker than it had been before, fell over his brow. The laugh lines at the sides of his eyes were always one of his sexiest features. His lips were swollen from their kisses, his dark gray eyes turbulent with emotion.
What emotion? she wondered. What was brewing inside this man she had given her heart to, and nearly given her life for?
Did he regret? Or did he justify his decisions?
And did it matter? If he was Trent, then the only reason he was here, with her, was to use her. Because he needed her to gain entrance into a society so elite, so powerful, that only a very few even knew of its existence.
She breathed in that truth.
No more lying to herself, she thought as she fought back the tears that would have fallen from her eyes. And no more weakness. She was a better woman, a better agent than she had been in the past five years.
Losing Trent had messed with her heart and her head to the point that surviving had been almost impossible. Moving on from his “death” had nearly destroyed her. She wasn’t going to allow John Vincent to destroy her now.
“I’m right here,” she finally answered. “It’s been a long day, and a very trying week.”
She forced herself from his side, sat up on the side of the bed, and willed her legs to hold her as she rose to her feet.
“Where are you going, Bailey?” Unashamedly naked, he watched as she snagged a robe from the chair against the wall and pulled it over her body.
&
nbsp; The ultra-soft cotton enfolded her, but it wasn’t as warm as it used to be. She still felt chilled, empty without his touch.
How long would it last this time? she wondered. That sense of loss when he left her for another mission. Perhaps even for another woman.
“I’m hungry.” She forced a smile to her face as she moved for the door. “And I need coffee.”
“It’s late, and you didn’t sleep much last night,” he protested as he rose to his feet and snagged his pants from the floor. “You should be tired.”
She was exhausted from the inside out.
“Food, then sleep.” She shrugged as she headed for the door. “Care for a sandwich?”
She kept her back to him. He was too perceptive and he could read her much too easily. She had never been able to hide things from John and now she had a lot to hide.
