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“Is this about me trying to identify the body?”
She felt him stiffen slightly before he forced himself to relax again. “No, this isn’t about a body. This is about your hunt for my identity. You’ve been looking in places you shouldn’t be, and you’ve attracted the attention of people you really don’t want to notice you.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have given me your DNA if you didn’t want me to look for you.” Bloody men. And they called women the contrary sex.
His smile was pure enticement. “That’s true. It was a moment of weakness.” He sounded almost bewildered, which made her think he wasn’t the sort of man who ever had those moments. “I need you to stop looking.”
Yeah, right, she’d get straight on that. “Of course.”
Even in the darkness, she saw his eyes harden. “I’m serious, Elle. You need to stop.”
“I understand.” She’d stop when she knew everything there was to know about him. He’d unwittingly tapped into her greatest weakness—he was a puzzle she had to solve, a mystery she couldn’t leave hanging. There was no way she could let the issue drop without having an aneurysm. It would go against her genetic code to do so.
He let out a sigh. “You aren’t going to do what I tell you, are you?”
For a second, she thought about lying, but that didn’t sit well with her. The game they had going was only going to be won fairly if she didn’t cheat. “Yeah, I’m going to keep looking. And I’m going to find out exactly who you are.”
“It’s a mistake.” His voice was soft—gentle, even.
“Won’t be my first.” And it probably wouldn’t be her last, either. She had a gift for getting into situations she really shouldn’t get into.
“Are you sure you want to do that? I’m not the only one with secrets that are best left hidden.”
Now her heart was racing for a different reason. She told herself there was no way he could know her secrets. She’d hidden them herself, with the help of Harry. And there wasn’t a hacker in the world better than her boss Harry Boyle.
“I’m sure.” She tried to infuse the words with confidence, when really, she felt a little uncertain.
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Before she realised what he meant to do, he leaned forward and his lips met hers.
As kisses went, it was as chaste as a Jane Austen romance scene. But it was far more than that. The sensation of his warm, firm lips against hers. His ocean scent filling her senses. The softness of his lips as he rubbed them against hers. It was a kiss that she felt straight to her toes, one she’d bring up in every dream she had from then until eternity. Because it was a kiss that cemented her obsession and her future.
He sat back far too soon, staring into her eyes. For once, the man seemed shaken. “You are so…unexpected.”
Elle felt dazed by his fleeting touch. She just watched him as he watched her back.
“I have to go.” His words broke the moment, and he stood, leaving her reeling without him. “The key to the cuffs is on the dresser. Think about what I said. You’re swimming with the sharks here, Elle, and you’re doing it without the cage.”
“I’ve always hated metaphors.”
With a grin, he turned and walked out of her room as silently as he’d come in. Elle gave him plenty of time before she called for Megan. As much as she would have liked to see him dodge their bullets, she didn’t like the idea of anyone other than her going up against the man. He was her puzzle. No one else’s.
And she was seriously going to make him pay for leaving her secured in fluffy pink cuffs.
CHAPTER 22
CALLUM RESTED HIS HAND ON the button of his jeans. This was it. There was no going back. If he stripped, he was leaving more than his body bare before her. He was baring his soul. His team hadn’t even seen him without his prosthetics until everything had gone to hell on their last mission together. He’d made an art form out of pretending that he was normal, that he was still whole. And now, here he was, standing in front of a woman who somehow managed to get through every barrier he put up, and he was about to make himself more vulnerable than he’d been in his life. More vulnerable than when he’d been in hospital relying on people to give him some semblance of his life back.
Isobel’s eyes softened. “We don’t need to do this, Callum. I’m in a weird mood. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” She turned and put her hand on the doorknob.
“No. It’s time.” He popped the button on his jeans.
Isobel turned back, leaned against the door and watched him as he unzipped his jeans. Her eyes turned molten as her gaze skimmed over his chest, lingering in the region of his tattoos, then back to his jeans. Her tiny pink tongue peeked out to wet her lips and her cheeks flushed. Callum almost groaned. She was turning something that should have been cold and awkward into something utterly erotic. He could feel himself becoming hard just from watching her watch him.
“You wear underpants,” she said huskily. “Before I found out in person, I thought you’d go commando.” Dark eyes looked up at him. “I spent a lot of time wondering about your underwear choices over these past few months.”
She was killing him. Callum slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans before remembering he needed to take his shoes off first. “Shoes,” he said, and fought the embarrassment that followed. He felt like a teenager alone with a girl for the first time.
“Let me.”
