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And he knew that was his chance.
He swung his arm hard and fast, knocking the pistol from her hand.
It flew across the room as he lunged for her, pushing her against the kitchen counter.
But Anna wasn’t giving up without a fight.
It would’ve disappointed him if she had.
ANNA
He slammed her body against the kitchen counter, and she raised her knee—but he twisted, blocking her. She swung her arm, twisting it behind her back. She grunted, pushing back against him, trying to land a blow anywhere she could, but he was faster, and with his weight pinning her to the counter, she couldn’t escape his hold.
Jackson grabbed both arms, securing them behind her with one hand.
She was trapped. They both knew it.
“Stop fighting me,” he growled. His body was pressed against hers, holding her in position. He was so close she could smell the soap he’d just used in the shower. His towel was still wrapped around his waist—a mere miracle. She’d wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms, and now she knew and could barely think straight. Wearing only a towel didn’t help.
But these were the last things she should be thinking about right now. She closed her eyes, as if that would put some space between them.
But he was not playing along.
“Talk,” he commanded.
She opened her eyes, looking straight into his. His face was right in front of hers, and he wasn’t giving her an inch.
“You’re in my personal space,” she said. She couldn’t think, let alone talk, while he was so close.
He looked at her incredulously. “Oh, you want to talk about personal space? You had a pistol between my shoulder blades a few minutes ago. You don’t have a right to request personal space. Now, start talking—what are you doing in my house?”
She should be concerned that she’d just broken into an FBI agent’s home and pointed a pistol at his back, but that wasn’t her main concern. She couldn’t think past how good his arms felt around her.
She looked away and tried to focus on her breathing, which was getting shorter by the second, but it didn’t help.
“Just give me space and I’ll talk,” she said, breathless as she returned her eyes to his.
She saw the fight leave him and something else replace it. It was like he was suddenly aware of their position now that his adrenaline rush had subsided.
He searched her eyes, his grip not loosening.
“Please,” she repeated.
She knew the moment he made his decision. The tension melted from his arms, but he didn’t release her wrists. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said, his voice deep, gruff.
“Promise,” she whispered with a nod.
He looked at her a long moment, then released her arms and took a step back.
She missed the heat of his body immediately, but she ignored that and the way he was looking at her—like he wished he still had his arms wrapped around her. Or maybe that’s what she wanted to believe. When his eyes dropped to her lips, she knew she hadn’t read him wrong.
He cleared his throat, returning his eyes to hers. “Let’s start over,” he said. “What happened after you left the maze?”
“I went to his house and confronted him. I know him, and he wasn’t lying. He was genuinely surprised that men were following me. So I assumed they were yours,” she said, biting her lip.
“They were not my men,” Jackson said. “You’ve spent so much time around Diaz and his men, I understand trust is an issue for you. But when I promise I’m not playing you, please believe me, or you’ll get us both killed. Anyone could’ve followed you here tonight.”
She shook her head. “I did what you told me to do. I drove so fast there is no chance anyone followed me here.”
