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Because now Benson and Ice were both watching and waiting.
Ice finished another round of the room, stretching his arms out wide, cracking his knuckles, then sliding out his phone and swiping his fingerprint to wake it up. He’d been exchanging messages with Benson, who’d agreed that it was worth a shot to stay overnight at the Raj Palace as bait. But Benson had also made it damn clear he wanted Ice and Indy gone by morning. There was no reason to force a confrontation with a CIA asset who might just be doing his or her job.
“I think I know who set Indy up,” Benson had messaged. “But I want to get to his internal CIA tech contact before moving in on him. Don’t want any more collateral damage than what’s absolutely necessary. This guy is a master manipulator with zero hesitation when it comes to covering his tracks. I suspect his tech contact doesn’t know she’s being used to bring down Kaiser, which means she might be in danger if this guy sniffs me getting too close.”
Ice had frowned at the message. Benson had referred to the tech contact as ashe. Ice didn’t ask any more questions. The cat-and-mouse game being played in Langley was Benson’s mission.
Ice’s own mission was clear.
He had his ownsheto worry about.
To keep safe.
To bring home alive.
Maybe bring home forever.
Now Ice stopped in front of the bedroom door again. He’d left the bedroom shortly after Benson and Jack had hung up after ribbing him for being hog-tied on the damn bathroom floor.
Left the bedroom as fast as he damn well could.
Without looking too long into Indy O’Donnell’s sharp dark eyes.
Because he already knew what he’d see in those eyes.
Knew what he’d feel in his heart.
Knew it was a bad fucking idea.
“Damn it,” he growled under his breath, clenching both fists as he stood outside the bedroom door. A part of him wanted to quietly push that door open, stalk silently to that big bed, slip smoothly beneath the cool sheets, give in to the hot desire raging in him like a beast. “You lost control, you dumb shit. You rubbed yourself off on her like an animal. Came in your pants like an out-of-control teenager.”
And hell, a part of himfeltlike that out-of-control teenager. His head buzzed from the memory of their bodies pressed together, the way her soft breasts and hard nipples felt against his chest, the way her pulsing mound felt against his throbbing bulge, the way her lips tasted as he ravaged her with his kisses, marked her with his saliva, throttled her with his tongue.
Ice cursed again as he turned away from the door, closing his eyes tight to push away the vivid memory of how Indy had looked at him when he told her to get some sleep while he stood guard near the front door.
And he hated what he’d seen in her eyes.
Hated what he’d felt in his soul.
Because turning away from her felt like a betrayal.
Like his body had made a promise to hers.
A promise he was breaking.
Ice rubbed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. Stop being absurd, he told himself angrily. You lost control and did something that was stupid and unprofessional at best, downright despicable at worst.
Nowthat’sfucking absurd, came the raging argument from inside Ice’s frazzled mind. She kissed you back, didn’t she? She came just as hard as you, didn’t she?
But Ice had opened that door in his mind, and the guilt roared in like floodwaters, reminding him how he’d held her down and used her, satisfied his raw raging need like an animal in season.
And the fucked-up thing was that the need still raged, was still raw like an open wound.
Like the animal in him hadn’t been satisfied at all.
It had just been awakened.
And it was hungry for more.
