His body turns into me, his hand sliding to cup my face. “No. I’ve watched you for days pretending with me.”
I blink. “W-what?”
“You kiss me, touch me, let me talk about us having a future like it’s something you want, too, but I see the truth in your eyes every single time.” He nods his head as though willing me to admit it. Both his hands thread through my hair, holding my head in place, forcing me to hold his gaze. Not that I could look away. “You’re biding your time. You’ve never planned on being with me beyond the moment.”
My heart races and I feel like a cornered rabbit, caught, nowhere to run. He sees right through me. I open my mouth and gape, trying to come up with something to say, to deny the truth that he flays me with like a whip.
“Caden, you don’t—”
“Oh, shut up,” he whispers, bringing his lips crashing over mine.
I know instantly this kiss is different. Every other time he kissed me, there was a level of restraint. He always claimed we had time. That we didn’t need to rush. He always held back, pulling away a little whenever things got too heated, whenever I kissed him a little too hard. Now he’s kissing me hard, heedless of clanging teeth.
His hands roam my body, make quick work of buttons. He hesitates at nothing, and neither do I. Trembling, he stretches out beside me, and it’s like he’s something from a dream. If I blink, he’ll vanish.
His mouth follows his hands, the contact searing. Skin on skin. Hands, lips, warm whispers on every curve, every hollow.
His face returns to me, staring deeply, one hand cupping my cheek, the other molded to my hip. His amber eyes gleam darkly at me.
I nod and then swallow, overcome, the taste and scent of him swirling all around me, reminding me that I’m still alive.
Looking into his eyes, I can see today echoed there, and I know he’s not that confident anymore. He’s seizing this—me—because he’s not convinced we have the time he always promised.
His lips curve in a grin, but the haunted look is still there in the shadows of his eyes. It tears at me, so I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him close, hold him like I’ll never let go.
His hands stroke my arms and slide down my sides, trailing over me. “Your skin is so soft.”
I smile against the tantalizing warmth of his shoulder, feeling slightly drunk, giddy with sensation and the rumble of his voice.
“Davy.” He breathes my name, tastes it like it’s something delicious. I kiss him again, lose myself in the pressure of his mouth on mine. His hands. His body. Whispered words and sighs. I savor the moment and wonder how I ever thought I could have him—all this—and walk away.
Gentle snores wake me. I smile and prop myself up on one elbow. Caden sleeps with one arm flung above his head and his other hand resting on his ridged abdomen. I shake my head. He really is beautiful. I watch him sleep for several more minutes, my fingers curled against my lips. I can feel my idiot grin against the backs of my fingers.
Sighing happily, I reach for his shirt and pull it over my head. I’m not going to fall back asleep any time soon. I slide off the edge of the bed and move to his desk, thinking I’ll find something to read. Reading always helped loosen my thoughts. Maybe I can help Caden come up with a new plan to catch our traitor. Our. Yeah. Because I’m in this.
My fingers trail the surface of the desk. I skim over his military history books. No light reading there. I open a drawer. My hand falls on a picture of a man in uniform with a young boy. It must be Caden with his dad. His father has the same amber eyes. Caden grins, adorable with one of his front teeth missing. His father’s hand covers Caden’s smaller shoulder, and there’s something so loving, so accepting in that pose that it makes my heart squeeze in longing for my own family.
Lowering the photo to the desk, I notice a paper with a LabCo insignia in the drawer. At first I don’t even understand what I’m looking at. I start to look away from it, but a single word, a sentence really, stops me. Subject HTS negative . . . I read it again, fully, starting at the top of the document, a lab report, absorbing it all with a terrible clenching in my stomach.
As comprehension settles, everything inside me wilts. The clenching in my stomach turns into a violent twist, and I think I’m going to be sick. All the euphoria of earlier evaporates, lifting from me like a melting fog. I turn. Still clutching the document, I gaze at him on the bed, still so beautiful, his face innocent, guileless. It’s the face of a liar.
Dropping the paper, I grab for my clothes on the floor and quickly dress myself, tossing his shirt off me like it’s poison on my skin.
I’m lacing up my boots with shaking fingers when his voice rumbles on the air. “Davy? What time is it? Come back to bed.”
I cringe, closing my eyes in a pained blink. I fumble with my laces and start over.
“Davy?”
Turning, I whirl around, my face hot with fury.
He props himself up on one elbow and scrubs at his eyes. “What are you doing, baby?”
“Don’t call me that.”
He focuses on my expression and frowns. He sits up, and the sheet pools around his waist. A distracting sight, the way the muscles in his abdomen ripple. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“You lied to me.” The words scream inside me for all that I whisper them.
“What are you talking about?”
“You. Lied. You told me to trust you.”
He drags a hand through his dark hair. “Davy, I don’t get it. What are you saying?”