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Vulnerable.
Like he’d been cracked wide open.
Like she’d stripped off his armor and struck a mortal blow.
Infected him with her sweet poison.
Then turned him down.
She had, hadn’t she, Ice thought as his cheeks burned with some mix of disappointment and humiliation, all of it combining into a compressed ball of tightness in the pit of his gut. Yeah, he’d been the one talking like a love-sick idiot, trying to get her to say she loved him, pretending it was a lighthearted game even though his body warned that it wasn’t lighthearted and it sure as hell wasn’t a game.
Either way, even if it was a game, Ice had lost.
He cursed out loud again, swung his fists as he paced, punching the air like a shadow boxer, his temples throbbing with blood, his cock doing the same in his pants, his heart working overtime to keep everything going at this furious pace.
Ice knew he was burning valuable resources by focusing so much on this crap, on this back-and-forth, this hot-and-cold, this push-and-pull. Deltas were trained to conserve every ounce of energy—especially mental and psychic energy.
Because more missions crashed and burned because of a mental or emotional failure than a physical error.
And it felt like Ice was failing on all counts.
Mental.
Physical.
And most certainly emotional.
Because emotions shouldn’t even be a consideration. Ice had spent a decade learning how to manipulate other people’s emotions, not lose control of his own.
Especially not likethat.
He shook his head again at the dumb-ass display with the panties. Then he cursed inwardly once more at the bullshit he’d spouted in the shower. Finished the self-flagellation with a nice dose of regret for losing control and rubbing himself off on her, then kissing her hard and deep, licking her face like a dog, a beast staking its claim.
Yeah, maybe Indy hadn’t been that far off.
Ice wouldn’t be surprised if the next words in his raging inner monologue were justoink-oink-oink.
It took another three lengths of the long living room before Ice found his way back. Well, not all the way back—just close enough to the neighborhood of self-control that he could think again, remind himself that in all the overheated back-and-forth involving name-calling and panty-licking, Indy had been right about one thing:
Ice needed to do his fucking job.
Nothing else mattered if he didn’t bring Indy O’Donnell home safe.
Which of course wouldn’t happen until Benson said it was safe to bring Indy O’Donnell home at all.
“Kaiser wants you two on a plane back to the States ASAP,” Benson had said earlier on that poorly timed phone call. “But I’m going to stall him.”
Ice had tapped the speakerphone button, turned off the camera, then tossed the phone on the bed as he pulled on his pants—which took some effort because his cock didn’t want to get stuffed back in there. “Why?”
Benson sighed. “Kaiser’s losing his patience with the Rhett Rodgers thing. There’s no concrete evidence other than my hunch, and he refuses to go to Senator Robinson with just that. Says it might backfire, make Kaiser look weak, like he’s trying to throw shade on Rhett’s reputation just to bring down a potential competitor for the Director’s job.”
Ice had grabbed a bathrobe, stuck his head into the bathroom long enough to toss it in there, refusing to glance at Indy because he needed to flip that switch back to theoffposition and keep it off. So he’d tossed the robe in there and then strode back out through the bedroom to the living room, frowning as he parsed Benson’s remarks. “Who’s Rhett Rodgers?”
Benson’s breath had caught abruptly, like he’d slipped up saying the name. “Never mind. It’s irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant my ass,” Ice had snapped, glancing towards the open bedroom door, trying to keep his mind from going back to that bathroom, to that other world which seemed beyond reach right then, perhaps beyond reach forever. “That’s the guy you think set Indy up. The fucker who sent that wet-team to the safe-house. So if you know who he is, just bring me back to the States and I’ll take him out quiet and clean, Benson. End this thing the right way.” He’d paused a beat. “In fact we don’t even need to wait that long. Get Jack on it. My brother’s a loudmouthed jackass most of the time, but when it comes to a clean kill he’s as good as any Delta.”
“Negative. Rhett can’t just disappear—not when Kaiser already knows I suspect the guy.” Benson had sighed into the phone. “Look, things are a bit touchy with Kaiser right now. There’s a lot going on in his life, and I’m worried he might say to hell with it all and just retire.”
