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Oh, oh, oh…
Natalie turned away fast and thrust a towel at him. “Put something on, for God’s sake.”
Her pulse throbbed in her ears, and her skin tingled, and all she could think of was tracing the trail of that water droplet with her tongue, tasting the clean saltiness of his skin, hearing his soft moan as she took his stiff cock into her mouth…
She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, shoving the forbidden thoughts from her mind. She hadn’t been with anyone since Nick had died. That had to be it. Had to explain the urges she felt for the one man she could never, ever have.
“Thanks,” Kyle said, his voice gruff as he yanked the towel from her hand.
From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed his reflection in the mirror and forced herself not to watch as he dried off, then slung the wet towel around his hips. She should be doing what her handler had instructed: convincing him to put her in touch with Hayley so they could assimilate the data from both notebooks into a cohesive whole and crack Arrieta’s virus before he unleashed chaos around the world. She should take care of that and then get the hell away from Kyle. She’d be lucky to survive her time around him without bursting into flames, which meant she should limit exposure to him as much as possible.
“So, about Hayley,” he said as he lathered up his face for a shave.
“What about her?”
“Look. How about you cut the attitude, okay? If you want access to my team, this partnership needs to be fifty-fifty. You tell me what I need to know, and vice versa.”
How could he be so cool and calm with all the sexual energy in the air?
Fine. If he could play it like a glacier, so could she. That was her specialty, after all, the thing that had made the CIA so keen to have her on this case. She was an expert at mimicking whatever environment or circumstance she might find herself in. She’d learned adaptability while she was living on the streets—little had she known she was honing what would end up being a key work asset. Her handler said those skills would allow her to infiltrate and assimilate Williams’s and Arrieta’s world and ultimately bring down whatever evil schemes the two might have in store.
And yes, Kyle might be walking, talking sex on a stick, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. “Word on the street says Arrieta is holed up in Havana.”
“Great. Now tell me something I don’t know.” Kyle glided the razor smoothly over his taut cheeks, and she watched, mesmerized by the practiced movements. “You’re staring again, Duchess.”
“Cow?” she growled, irritated.
“Loved.” He winked at her in the mirror. “Get over it.”
Her chest ached with memories, and she lowered her gaze. She and Nick had joked and bantered like this in the mornings, but it had always been gentle, sweet, funny.
This was not funny.
This was hot and steamy and stirred something deep and primal within her.
Kyle rinsed off the last of his shaving cream, then stepped back and grabbed a second towel from the rack to cover his face and…Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. His tight, round, squeezable ass was mere inches from her face, the glory of it barely disguised by the flimsy motel towel. God help her.
“You guys have operatives in Cuba, right?” he asked.
“Yes.” The word croaked out of her suddenly dry throat, and she coughed, swiveling to face the door. “We’ve got a team in Havana.”
“Is he running the network from there, do you think?”
“Not sure.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t going to share all her information with him. Not yet, at least. “I’m guessing he’s got strongholds all over. But he’d stick somewhere close to the US.”
“Why?” Kyle asked, dropping the second towel in the sink after scrubbing it over his damp hair, leaving the silky strands spiked and adorably mussed.
“Because Arrieta’s single goal in life these days is bringing America to its knees. You know what happened to him in that Iraqi prison camp, right? He certainly hasn’t forgotten—and even though he managed to get out on his own, he holds a grudge over the fact that no one came charging in to rescue him. When he strikes, he’ll hit the homeland.”
“Hmm.” Kyle opened the bathroom door and strode out into the room beyond.
Natalie stayed behind, relishing the blast of cooler air against her heated cheeks and the brief respite from Hurricane Kyle— beautiful and deadly and hypnotic all rolled into one.
“So what’s our next move?” he called.
“First, we need to see Hayley. Then we need to figure out precisely where Arrieta’s hiding.”
The sound of a zipper was followed by the dull thud of footsteps on carpet. Kyle reappeared in the doorway, now wearing a pair of jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. His feet were still bare, and Natalie’s breath caught at how young and strong he looked.
