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He grabs my hand, holds it there. His face a mask of pain, he whispers, “Please. You’re not a nun. You don’t kiss like a nun. Tell me the truth. I need to hear it.”
The idea that he would be so consumed with the desire between us that he’d cross that line thrills me, and also fills me with guilt. Such is the life of an undercover agent.
Licking the taste of him, as sweet as any dessert, from my lips, I shake my head. “I can’t absolve you or your sins. If that’s what you’re asking”
Cursing in Welsh, he pushes away from me, jumps back. “Oh, fuck. Sister. Sorry, I’m… I just...” He angles his head, squints at me and shakes his head as if reevaluating his apology. “Nah. No. I don’t believe you’re a nun. Not for a single moment.”
Annoying. Am I losing my touch? “Why not?”
For a beat he stares at me, as if I can’t be seriously asking that question right now. He looks away. “Other than you rescuing women and fighting blokes and breaking into my flat, and what your hands just did to me…” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s, you know.” He waves in my general direction.
Well, that’s unhelpful. “Clarify, please.”
He turns back to me, red sliding up under his beard and into his cheeks. “If you make me say it—”
“Say it.”
“Surely, Dee, you’ve had men stare at you. You must’ve had people tell you. Surely, you realize how…”
People stare. Yes. But unless it seems a danger, I have no time to waste on looks. Still, it’s obvious what he’s getting at. It’s insulting. I’m insulted for nuns everywhere. “Are you suggesting I’m too beautiful to be a nun?”
“Yes. No. I’m… It’s not your beauty alone. It’s… You give off a vibe, an energy. It’s not the energy of a woman who spends a lot of time in prayer.”
I’m giving off a non-nun vibe? Come on. That can’t be my fault. “If my vibe isn’t pious enough, doesn’t that have more to do with the un-pious inner workings of your own mind?”
He bristles. “I didn’t break intoyourflat, rifle throughyourthings, and then give you the hottest kiss of your life. It’s not me who has a piety issue. So, let’s try again. Why are you here?”
8
SEAN
Standing in a room full of illegal documents passed to me by my industrious and not always above the law da, I find myself finally feeling like I’ve got the upper hand. Though I’ve only known her a few days, I’ve been off balance every time Dee and I’ve met. Honestly, I can barely breathe when she’s near me.
Now, after her kissing me and copping a feel that has me as hard as I am certain she isn’t a nun, I wait for her to convince me she is who she says she is.
“I told you why I came.”
“Right. Sure.” I stroll back to her. “Looking for a tumble? Okay. I’m your guy.”
Let’s see what she does with that.
Her eyes widen and travel the length of me. For a moment, I think I might have to put up or shut up. I’m finding I like that idea of putting up a lot.
She looks away, grasping the bracelet on her wrist. Pity, she’s backing down.
I press my advantage. “Tell me why you’re here,”
Her posture shifts so she stands with one hip slightly out. It’s an I’m-taking-charge-of-this-situation posture. I know people, watch them and how they react down to the smallest detail. That, more than anything, has kept me safe here. And right now, that awareness screams at me that this woman won’t admit the truth.
I get it. She can’t trust me anymore than I can trust her.
She motions around the room. “Why are you helping Rosa and Carlos? Guilt?”
Guilt doesn’t cover it. I feel sick to my stomach every time I’m asked to create a false identity for Walid or one of his goons. I tell myself they’d easily find someone else to do the work, but I also know that my skills are at a level few could manage to replicate. It’s this level of skill, along with my da’s help, that has allowed me to create a relationship with Armand, Walid’s head of security.
I scrub a hand across my face. So much for feeling the tables turn. “Why would a man help people fleeing a desperate situation find safety? Seems obvious to me.”
Her eyebrows draw in. “This is at odds with what your boss does. He takes advantage of the turmoil in these areas, ¿no?”
