Chapter 10 #2
He didn’t expect her to simply cave. Fall for a few token promises and blindly follow along. He recognized the slight hunch of her shoulders. The pinched mouth and dull stare. Knew guilt when it stared back at him. And Ellis had it in spades.
She’d spent twenty minutes staring at her hands—turning them over then fisting them in her lap.
Bouncing them against her thigh. She’d been distant.
Had responded to any question with a grunt or a shake of her head.
It hadn’t been much of a stretch to deduce she blamed herself for Six’s injury.
Was convinced she’d get them all killed. And that, given the chance, she’d bolt.
When she’d suddenly lunged to her feet and tripped her way to the bathroom, he’d known she wasn’t waiting for a chance to crop up—she was making her own. Was going to either skip the washroom and sneak out through one of the bedrooms. Or try to shimmy out the window beside the sink.
She hadn’t disappointed him. Had been so focused on her mission—on how to alter her plans to bypass the alarm, the lock—that she hadn’t noticed him trailing behind. And he’d intervened before she’d been able to counter him.
He hadn’t planned on kissing her. Sure, he wanted to.
Ached to feel her body flush against his, her soft, sweet mouth sliding over his lips.
Her fingers digging into his flesh or wrapped around his hair.
He’d noticed the way she’d reacted when he’d pinned her earlier.
Her increased breath. Dilated pupils. While he’d been too angry, too hurt to act on it, then, his brain had cataloged her response. Filed it away until he could act on it.
Which had kicked in the moment she’d touched him. Palmed his chest. She’d been preparing to shove him away. He knew it. Felt it. But that simple brush of her hands across his chest, the tiny press of her fingers into his flesh, and his damn body had taken over.
Shoved her against the sink as he’d finally wrapped all that silky hair around his fingers—brought her pretty little mouth to his.
He didn’t remember much after that. Moving her sideways, crushing her against the wall.
He’d come out of the daze when she’d stiffened—most likely remembering all the reasons she should be running.
He’d had both her wrists in one hand, the other about to palm her breast. She’d been grinding her cleft on his thigh, and he’d half considered trying to get her off like that.
Watch her climax from that brief contact, alone.
He hadn’t. Would have been ashamed of himself if he had.
Now, wasn’t the time. Soon. Once they’d talked.
Secured a course of action that would keep her safe—take that bastard, McCormick, down.
When Colt could let his guard down long enough to savor her.
Give her the kind of loving he’d envisioned far too often over the past five years.
The kind she deserved. Romantic. Novel-worthy.
At least, that was what he hoped would happen.
Ellis stared at him. Wide eyes. A few tears still drying on her cheek. Seeing her like that gutted him. Knowing that she didn’t see herself as part of their team—instead, an outsider looking in, an obligation—had made his chest hurt. Squeezed it to the point he’d barely been able to breathe.
He was to blame for that. A byproduct of letting her go.
Not trusting in what they’d had. That she never would have betrayed him.
He’d told her the truth. He’d have to live with it.
Hope that one day, he could find redemption—some semblance of forgiveness.
But it wasn’t a mistake he’d make a second time.
Whether she wanted him back in her life to stay or just to eliminate the current threat, didn’t matter.
Because he wasn’t divided any longer. In fact, he was all-in.
And so was his team.
Colt stepped closer. Not like before, but enough that he filled her field of view—that she had to tilt back her head to maintain eye contact. “Well, sweetheart? You in?”
She glanced at the window, then the door.
She was weighing her options. Whether her need to save them outweighed his need to do the same for her.
Whether he deserved another chance. He didn’t push.
Didn’t list all the reasons he and his team were her best—her only—shot.
She knew. And if it came down to it, he’d hike her up on his shoulder and carry her back to the living room.
Tie her to the damn chair if it meant keeping her safe.
But he wanted her to choose him. Choose to be his partner. His equal. To give him a glimmer of hope that maybe they could start over. Or pick up. He didn’t care, as long as she was there. With him.
She breathed deeply, licking her lips, before blowing all that air out.
And he knew. She’d decided. And since she wasn’t kicking out his feet.
Elbowing him in the ribs or the head. Doing some CIA ninja move to knock him on his ass, she hadn’t gone with the escape plan. Wouldn’t make him chase her ass down.
He smiled—held out his hand. “Ready?”
A shake of head, then one small hand reaching out. Taking his. Tiny callouses brushed over his larger ones—a testament to her new-found strength—before she threaded her fingers through his. Gave him a nod.
“That’s my girl.”
He didn’t miss the way she inhaled—rough, breathy—or the slash of pink that colored her cheeks, fading down her neck and settling on the upper swell of her breasts. Whether intentional or not, she still liked the thought of them together. He just hoped it meant more. Meant a chance at a future.
And that meant ending the threat against her. Setting her free.
Colt gave her hand a squeeze, then waved at the door. “After you, sweetheart. I’ll get you that change of clothes, some food—double check your side. Then, we’ll talk. Because the running stops, now. We’re going to get this son of a bitch. And failure is not an option.”