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“What am I going to do that anyone at Blackout headquarters can’t?”
He stopped two feet away. The scent of fresh laundry washed through her senses, and somehow the humble scent seemedso muchhotter than Robert’s manly aftershave.
Apollo’s gaze bored into hers. “This matter could involve illegals…in a terrorist cell.”
TWO
Apollo’s gut lurched. Just being this damn close to his former lover made him want it all back. Everything he’d lost in his rash decision that in the end got the bad guy but lost him Indika.
If she squashed herself against that cabinet any more, she’d be sitting on top of it.
He took a step backward to give her some breathing room. However, he wasn’t prepared for the way her shoulders slumped with relief.
God, it hurt to think that she wanted to get away from him when at one point, they’d been so emotionally intertwined that he couldn’t fathom a life without her in it.
“I’d like to make a report of what I know.” His voice came out gruff, and it had everything to do with how goddamn stunning she was.
In a fitted suit of a lightweight gray fabric, she shouldn’t look so damn sexy. Yet the trousers skimmed her curves—hugged the full globes of that fantastic ass—and the jacket nipped in at her tiny waist.
He longed to latch on to it and yank her up against his hard cock. Hard might be an understatement. He hadn’t been this far gone since he walked into Blackout headquarters and saw her for the first time in three years.
Swallowing hard, he tried a new tactic, one that didn’t have her climbing a wall to escape him. He backed away, giving her room to breathe, and if she was experiencing the same thing he was, to think.
“I only want to give the report and see if you can assist the team.” He watched her closely, gauging her mood and reaction to him.
After a second’s thought, she nodded. She moved to her desk and took a seat. He dragged the guest chair over and sank to it. As with most seating, his bulky muscles spilled over the arms and his thighs barely fit on the seat.
Indika threw him a glance. The tip of her tongue darted across her sweet lips and retreated so fast he might believe his imagination was at work if not for how his fly tightened over his bulging cock.
She drew her keyboard toward her and put her fingers on the keys. “All right. Go ahead and tell me what you know.”
His stare lingered on her mouth as vivid memories of how she parted her lips around his cock flooded his mind.
She cleared her throat, but he only dropped his gaze to the enticing column of her throat. Her pulse flickered at the base, drawing his attention lower to the tawnyVof flesh above the white top she wore.
“Apollo.” Her hard tone jerked his attention back to what he’d come here for.
Well, part of the reason.
“I have notifications set whenever someone uses a certain channel of communication. One popped up on my phone.”
“What did it say?”
“Well, it’s in Nigerian, but loosely translated, there are stirrings in Abubakar’s cell.”
Her fingers paused on the keys, her eyes fixed on his face.
A growl rumbled deep in his chest. Animalistic. Full of need. What he wouldn’t give to yank her out of that chair and lay her down on the desk. To suck on her pert nipples through that thin white top until her skin glowed under it and she was arching into him.
“Abubakar’s dead,” she said in a flat voice.
Her lack of emotion sliced through his chest, leaving him even more wounded by her reaction to him coming back. Christ, he hadn’t meant to hurt her so damn bad. He just hadn’t thought…
“Can you read the messages to me? Or let me see for myself? You know I speak the language.”
He did. It was one of the things that made Indika so valuable to Blackout and one of the many that she had in common with Apollo. They both had a knack for picking up languages.
At one time, they shared the joke that if they procreated, their children would pop out multilingual.
