Chapter 7 #2
Ice reached for her hand, smiling despite the slight tremor that shook through him.
That only happened when he touched the woman.
All he’d done for Ellis the other night—IVs.
Stitches—and the man had been rock steady.
Yet, one stray thought about Harlequin in danger, and that cool reserve cracked ever so slightly.
At least, Colt wasn’t alone in feeling off-kilter around Ellis.
Midnight, Rigs, hell, even Cannon seemed inflicted with a similar issue where their partners were concerned.
Not that Ellis was Colt’s. Once upon a time, sure. But, regardless, everyone had their version of kryptonite. Just his dumb luck his was a dark-haired ball buster with more stubbornness than a platoon of soldiers.
Ice nodded. “Call me if she needs anything. She really does need to eat. And take more antibiotics and pain killers.”
“I’ll bring her out as soon as she’s done. Just… Don’t mention I said anything about…” About the bastards who’d hurt her. The men on Colt’s personal shit list. The ones he was going to hunt down and eliminate. Who were already dead but didn’t know it.
“Please. We’re professionals.”
“Right. Why was I worried?”
He dodged the balled-up napkin Ice tossed at him, then headed back, pausing outside the bathroom. He took a few deep breaths, listening through the door. Water splashed in the background, accompanied by a low groan. Shit, if she was trying to do more than what they’d agreed to…
He switched into soldier mode. No more coddling. Not when it was apparent she didn’t respond to sweet and easy. He’d warned her he wasn’t going to let her push herself, and he’d meant it. And if he needed to be a hardass to accomplish that, he was up to the task.
He knocked, counted to five—insanely fast, but damn it, his control was edgy, at best—then swung the door inward.
And froze. Breath held, her clothes white knuckled in his fist because she was sitting there.
Shower nozzle in one hand, the other spreading bubbles along her legs—long, toned legs that looked like an endless stretch of soft silky skin.
Skin he remembered running his palms along, feeling wrapped around his hips.
And damn if he didn’t want it all, again.
Ellis startled, groaned, then slumped forward.
He moved. Dropped the clothes and made it to her side inside a second, flat.
Another, and he had the towel in his hands, was lifting her to her feet.
She was shaky. Barely holding on, as he wrapped her up then sat back down, cradling her in his lap, careful not to put her directly on his damn dick.
The one that was still hard. Her increased breath washed across his neck, one small hand connecting with his chest.
Shit. He should have stayed—modesty and his heart be damned. She looked ever paler than when he’d left, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes had returned. As if she’d lost any benefits she’d gained from sleeping for over thirty hours straight. From the IVs and meds Ice had given her.
Ellis drew a few shaky breaths, finally relaxing in his arms. “Guess this is where you lecture me on how you were right, and that I wasn’t strong enough to bathe.”
“Well, I can’t, now. It would make me an ass. But thanks for ruining it for me.” He eased back enough to stare down at her—soak in all that blue from her eyes. At least the punch of fear—the one he’d never admit to—had killed his erection. “You did that on purpose.”
She smiled. Another genuine one that gave him a glimpse of the old Ellis. The one who’d always known what to say to make him feel less like the hardened soldier he’d become, and more like the man he’d wanted to be for her.
“Always did have to have an ace up my sleeve if I wanted to have any hope of being on equal footing with you or your team. Damn Spec Op guys are too cocky for their own good.”
“Especially when we’re always right.”
“No one likes an overachiever.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” He sighed when she shivered. “We should get you dressed.”
“You said you’d help me rinse my hair. And you Delta guys never go back on a promise.”
“That was before you broke the rules—pushed too hard and nearly passed out.”
“I believe the only rules were that I couldn’t open up my wounds. Or get any more. Neither of which happened, so…technically, I didn’t actually break any rules.”
“You came damn close. If I hadn’t come back when I did…”
“Didn’t you used to say that almost didn’t cut it? That no one cared if you almost died or almost got shot?”
“Do all women have your kind of memory or are you special?”
She tensed at the last word. Special. That’s what he’d used to say to her. That she was special.
Ellis shrugged it off. “Women never forget the important stuff. How else can we make a man suffer?”
“Trust me. You have infinite ways at your disposal. Fine, let’s get your hair rinsed off.” He spun, still holding her close, then reached for the spray.
“Wait. I’ll move over or you’ll get wet.”
“You can hardly balance on my lap with me bracing most of your weight. You’ll keel over on the edge. Besides, it’s not like I’ll melt if my pants get wet.”
She stared at him from behind a tangle of long eyelashes, clearly assessing him before sighing then leaning forward. He lifted one hand, brushing all her silky soft hair forward—exposing the long smooth line of her neck.
The marks behind her ear were slightly clearer from this position, the lines just touching the edge of her hair.
He couldn’t imagine what had happened to push her down this road—turn her away from MI.
She’d always excelled at gathering intel.
Had a way of briefing people that put them at ease—gave them a vivid picture in their heads of what she was describing.
And her facts had always been spot on. That’s why she’d moved around as much as she had.
Damn near every commander had requested her. And, yet…
She’d left. Joined some clandestine unit, as Jericho had put it, and become an agent. Christ, was she a spy, now? Infiltrating enemy strongholds? Going undercover? Was she some sort of assassin?
None of that sounded like her. She’d always been about the intelligence side of things. Defecting to the CIA as an analyst made a warped kind of sense. Nothing he ever would have guessed, but not completely out of the realm of what was possible. Picturing her going into the field…
Made him wonder if he’d ever really known her. If anything they’d shared had been real. He’d assured Cannon that she couldn’t have been a plant. That Colt would have unearthed the truth. That they’d been too close, too much in love for her to hide that much of herself from him. But now…
He wasn’t sure. And the damn uncertainty was killing him.
Another low groan. Hardly more than a whisper, but he felt it through to his soul.
She was hurting. Obviously in pain from being bent over.
But…she didn’t move. Didn’t try to straighten.
Instead, her muscles tensed as if she was fighting through it.
Using some of the tricks he’d learned to overcome the discomfort.
He let the shower head slip into the tub, then snagged the other towel—draped it over her head as he eased her upright. She connected hard with his chest, limbs going limp in his grasp.
“El? Shit.”
Ice was going to have his fucking balls.
Colt swung his legs over the tub, surging to his feet, when her fingers wrapped around his forearm. So damn small compared to him, they barely covered half of the width. But it stopped him cold. Had him looking down into her eyes.
She smiled. Weakly. But it loosened the bands around his chest. Allowed him to draw in a shaky breath. “You weren’t gonna leave me naked, were you?”
“You’re hurt. Probably pulled out some more damn stitches. I’ll lend you another shirt once you’re back in bed and Ice takes a look. I never should have let you talk me into this.”
“I’m not bleeding, and I don’t need Ice. Sheesh, were you always this much of a nursemaid? I’m—”
“I swear, if you say fine, I’ll paddle your ass.”
“Didn’t know you were into kinks, now, baby. But if that’s how you roll…”
“Not getting distracted by all that sass, sweetheart.”
“Busted. But…honestly. I’m—”
“Ellis Marie—”
“Okay. Shit, I was going to say okay. Christ, you don’t need to pull out the big guns. Use my middle name. All I want is to put on some clothes, then, I’ll go back to bed. Or eat, or whatever.”
He glared at her, watching her face for any hint of deceit, but the girl was unreadable. The agent side of her bleeding through.
“You can’t even stand, but you think you can get dressed without smashing into the tub? Fat chance.”
“Put me down, and I’ll show you. Put that fifty bucks you lost to the test. Easy money, right?”
He shook his head but gently placed her on her feet.
She swayed but managed not to tank into the sink or the wall as he retrieved her clothes.
She arched a brow, motioning for him to turn around, but he snorted, then crossed his arms on his chest. Gazes still locked.
Shoulders drawn back, chin high. If she insisted on being this stubborn, acting like a brat, he’d respond in kind.
Her lips quirked. “What happened to not cornering me?”
“If I turn around and you go sideways, it’ll be more than just a concussion when you smash your head on the tub. Or the sink.” He shrugged. “I can’t catch what I can’t see.”
“No one asked you to catch me.”
He didn’t reply, just stood there. Staring her down. Ellis rolled her eyes then leaned against the sink, bending just enough to step into the pants—tug them over her hips.
Knowing she was bare beneath the sweats prickled heat along his skin.
Increased his breathing. When she dropped the towel, altogether, to slip into the bra, he thought his damn heart was going to stop.
Or burst out of his chest because she was all pale skin with a hint of pink-tipped nipples atop perk breasts.
They looked smaller, matching her leaner frame, but just as beautiful.
As tempting as before. And god help him, they were hard. Tight little buds begging to be sucked.
Ellis cleared her throat. “My eyes are up here, soldier.”
Colt lingered a moment longer then dragged his focus up to her face. “I know. I wasn’t looking at those.”
Red slashed across her cheeks as she glared at him. “You’d better start if you like your balls attached.”
“Are you going to kick my ass before or after you pass out? Because you’re shaking like a junkie.”
“It only takes one strike.”
“One you have to land.”
She pursed her lips, took a step, then stopped. She grabbed the sink, nearly toppled, until he caught her, again. He managed to slip the shirt over her head before picking her up—rolling her against his body.
He sighed. “You always were a firecracker. Seems that part hasn’t changed.”
“But I have.”
The words were mumbled against his sweater. So quiet he nearly missed them.
He nodded, heading for the kitchen. He’d promised Ice he’d bring her out, and she could definitely use a once over. Colt wasn’t sure if she’d stay conscious long enough to eat, but he’d try.
He glanced at her as he reached the doorway. “I know you have. And soon, you’re going to have to tell us just how much because this isn’t over until we’ve unearthed the truth. And like it or not, you’re at the center.”