Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
But that was impossible. While he couldn’t resist his attraction to her, he made damn sure he didn’t show it. He’d been trained to disguise emotion, a skill that had served him well throughout his career.
Without averting her gaze, she reached for the bottle of soap beside him and squirted a cold glob on his chest. She edged closer, pushing into the V of his legs, and boldly perched on his knee.
With her featherlight weight on his lap came the smooth touch of her hands on his flesh, fingers splayed, just the right balance of caution and assertion as she spread the gel to his shoulders and throat.
He sank into the warmth of her caress, fixated on her unreadable expression. What sort of woman was she? Heartless? Tender? Promiscuous? Complicated? He didn’t know enough about her to make a judgment. But goddamn, she knew how to touch a man.
Her fingers swept across every inch of his upper body, rubbing gently, working in the lather, unselfish with the soap. With the bucket, she rinsed away the grime, leaving no part of his exposed skin unwashed.
When she reached his hair, her fingernails dug in, scraping his scalp and combing him clean.
He fucking groaned.
It felt surreal, like a day at the damn spa. Not that he would know. He’d never been to a spa, never been pampered or massaged into a pleasure-drunk coma.
He didn’t trust the feelings it evoked. She had an agenda. A nasty one. But he let himself, just for a moment, indulge in the sublime ecstasy of her hands on his body.
She spent a lot of time on his facial hair, scrubbing and soaping with rapt concentration. Christ, how he must’ve reeked. The hair had grown too long, venturing into lumberjack territory. He preferred a quarter-inch military beard.
With his head tipped back, he stared down the length of his nose. “Have you found any creatures crawling in it?”
“No.” Her luscious lips crooked up at the corner, amusement glowing in her delicate features. “I’m trying to imagine what you look like without it.”
“I’ve shaved it off many times over the years. I’m sure you’ve seen photos.”
Images of him didn’t exist on the Internet or dark web. He made sure of that. But he pretended otherwise as a way to fish for clues and subtly nudge her into giving something away.
“No photos.” Her hands moved on to the upper part of his face, cleaning around the contusions he’d incurred during the fight. “I didn’t know what you looked like until the night I met you in the desert.”
Shock jolted through him, but he maintained a bored expression. “You met me that night because I allowed it. Because I deliberately activated your bug.”
She pressed closer, lathering soap around his eyes and cheeks. “Your breath smells good. Minty. You’ve been using the gifts I sent.”
If she wanted a thank you, she could eat a dick.
Biting her lip, she stared at his mouth. “I planted those bugs in Rylee Sutton’s house, knowing you would take them and eventually lure me to your location. You met me that night in the desert because I allowed it.”
“They’re not just bugs. You planted customized tech, designed for the NSA.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” She slid a hand into his hair and pulled, yanking his head back. “The only way you would recognize that tech is if you worked for them.”
Or if he worked for something deeper, darker, and more clandestine. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. “What does Rylee Sutton have to do with this?”
“A few months ago, you showed up in Texas, stalking her.” She released his hair and leaned to the side, her attention on his hand.
With his arms fastened to the pallet on either side of his head, he opened his fingers and let her look at his palm. The gash from the rock had healed cleanly over the past two weeks, thanks to the supplies she’d provided.
She gently washed the area around the wound and moved to his other hand. “After vanishing off the map for seven years, here you were, riding into the desert on your motorcycle. You went straight to El Paso, then Eldorado, monitoring Rylee’s old and current residences. She was your only focus, seemingly the only reason you came out of hiding. So naturally, she became a target for your pursuers.”
“I wasn’t in hiding, and I didn’t realize I had admirers.”
“Pursuers.”
“Same thing. I see the way you look at me.”
“I see the way you look when I mention your pretty dancer.”
He didn’t blink. Not a twitch.
Danni had never been involved in his affairs. He’d always kept her in the dark, completely separated from his career. Now, she lived a safe, happy life, doing what she loved. Dancing. She married the man she loved. A powerful businessman and billionaire, who had the resources and unparalleled desire to protect her.