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Her eyes lit up. “That’s an excellent idea.”
I smiled. “If there’s anything else you can think of for me to do, say the word.”
“Ares…”
“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?”
She nodded, just once.
“Yeah?” I said, leaning in to close half the distance between us. She closed the rest, and this time, Nem kissed me. There could be no denying it. Rather than take charge, I held back, letting her work through her uncertainty.
When she broke our kiss far sooner than I would have, I put my hand on the back of her neck and rested my forehead against hers. “Fighting it isn’t working, Nemesis.”
Her eyes closed, and her brow furrowed. “I know.”
I brought my lips to hers again, this time in just a quick, chaste version of our previous kisses.
For the second time, she made the first move, and my body’s response was immediate. When she angled her head to deepen our kiss, I wrapped one arm around her and pulled her body against mine.
“Nem,” I moaned into her hair. “Do you—”
Neither of us could ignore the chime of her cell phone.
“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling away. I became fixated on the sweep of her tongue over her bottom lip as she took out her phone to answer the call.
“Yes, hello, Z.” Her eyes remained on mine as she listened. “Yes, right. Good. Much appreciated, Z.”
She lowered her hand from her ear and rested it on her thigh. “I’ve got to go.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I nodded. “I know that too.”
“Bye, Ares.”
“I told you before I prefer War God.” I winked and Nem smiled.
25
NEMESIS
The flight from Heathrow to Cairo took five hours. From there, we’d travel to the resort town of Sharm el-Sheikh, located at the tip of the Sinai Peninsula. Adding the amount of time it would take us to get from Shere to the airport, then to the plane, it would be closer to seven.
In our conversation, Z said Oleander had no problem with Wilder accompanying me, nor with Cayman and Puck joining us. No doubt it would’ve been an entirely different story had we attempted to bring Ares.
Once on the ground,Wilder made contact with Oleander, who gave us the coordinates of our meeting spot.
“What in the bloody hell?” said Cayman when he pulled it up on his laptop.
“Nice,” said Wilder, commenting on the overhead view of the yacht anchored not far off the coast in the Straits of Tiran.
“Who is she expecting?” I asked.
“The four of us. Had she disagreed, I would’ve pulled rank.”
I raised a brow, then laughed, remembering Oleander and Wilder used to work together. Actually, O had once workedforhim.
