Page 40 of Hidden With You

Despite myself, I laugh. “Yeah. You’re pretty deadly.”

He reaches out and strokes my hair, tucking a lock behind my ear. It’s sweet and intimate, and I want to lean into it. But I don’t. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking about how great it is that we have the same perspective. Neither one of us wants a commitment. This is just for fun. And that’s pretty great since I need fun while there’s a death threat hanging over me.”

I watch his eyes while I speak, looking to see if he agrees with my words. I tell myself I’m only looking for reactions. Ticks and giveaways I can use in my books. But the truth is, I want to see his reaction to my comment about commitment. I want to know if, maybe, when all this is over, he’ll want to stay.

My heart does a little flip as that reality hits me. Everyone leaves. I know this. It’s the way my life is. It’s the reason I don’t get close.

Yet somewhere along the way, I let myself believe that Jasper might be different. I don’t know where that came from because he’s certainly never given me that impression. And yet there it is, filling my thoughts, the world, my universe. Hope.

And so I do the only thing I can do to take my mind off the question. I straddle him, then lower my mouth to his. The kiss is long and deep, and he is all in with me. We pull apart, breathless, just long enough for our eyes to meet. “Okay?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

I grin, then slide my hand down and feel his erection. I don’t answer. I just kiss him again, my tongue warring with his. And then, very slowly, I straddle him and ride him one more time until we both go supernova into the black night sky.

He’s asleep when I awake the next morning, brought back to life by the stream of light coming in through the blinds and tickling my nose.

I grab my phone to check the time and see that it’s already almost ten. I stifle a groan, then slide out of bed, leaving him sleeping soundly. I have a feeling he doesn’t usually laze in bed this late, but neither of us got much sleep last night.

I smile, thinking about the reason as I head into the kitchen. My plan is to grab a yogurt cup from the fridge, but somehow I find myself breaking eggs and popping toast into the toaster. It’s a little bit of a miracle I have any of these things, but Tricia, bless her, keeps the fridge stocked with foods.

She knows that I’ll cook if the food is in the house, otherwise I’ll live on granola and string cheese. And, of course, popcorn.

I make up plates for both of us with bacon, eggs, and toast. Then I put the plates on a tray, add a bowl of strawberries and a pot of coffee, and carry it back to bed. He’s just waking up, and I can see his eyes widen when I step into the room.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks.

“Let’s just say that you earned it last night.”

He laughs. “I’ll have to work on my technique. Waffles. Quiche. The possibilities are endless.”

“I look forward to your continued efforts.”

I set the tray down at the foot of the bed, then climb in beside him. It’s casual and easy, and we talk about nothing important as we eat. Nothing about the death threat against me, nothing about my offer to help him figure out who killed his family, nothing about the pages I have due on my upcoming book. Nothing about his work at Stark Security or before in MI6.

Instead, we talk normal things. How breakfast tastes, our favorite brunch. Mine was in New Orleans on a trip after college. A huge jazz brunch with everything imaginable. His was at a hotel in Paris, and he stuffed himself so full of cheese and bread that he thought he was going to have to be rolled back to his own hotel.

We share our favorite movies and the places we’ve travelled. We talk about how pretty the day is, and that leads into the question of how wonderful the night could be. “We should go out again tonight,” I say with a fake leer to punctuate the comment.

He looks at me sideways. “I took a risk last night. Not only a risk of getting you killed but of getting us arrested for public indecency.”

“Maybe that was the best part,” I say.

“Maybe it was,” he agrees. “But not tonight. We should stay in. I’m not going to risk your safety. Not again, anyway.”

“So why did you take me out last night?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You just decided that we should go out. It was wonderful, but you’re not exactly shrug-off-the-rules guy. Was it just for me?” I move the tray aside and climb onto his lap, facing him. “Did you think I would pout if you didn’t take me out?”

“Yeah,” he says drily. “Something like that.”

I raise a brow to stare him down. He laughs, but I keep on staring.

“It felt right,” he finally says. “A walk on the beach. And then, well, I wanted the drive. I wanted you.” He cups my cheek. “Is that so bad?”