Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Drink this.”
Ellis blinked, scrambling for the mug Brett shoved into her hands.
The last thing she remembered, she’d been listening to Bishop repeat how he and Kameron would go to this remote internet café on the other side of town, access the server per Ellis’ instructions, download everything onto an encrypted thumb drive then drive back.
Taking fifteen different routes, weaving all through town—constantly checking for tails, before returning here.
How there was camouflage netting for all the vehicles.
That they’d all do everything they could to ensure Ellis remained safe.
And it wasn’t that she hadn’t been interested.
He’d just gone over the same plan a few times, and having learned how to memorize operational details instantly, her mind had drifted.
Not to the task at hand. To all the reasons she shouldn’t let them help.
How she was endangering their lives. Especially when she didn’t know why McCormick was after her.
If the files would save her or just prove that she’d been duped all along and had blindly followed orders because she had no other options.
Hadn’t been either strong enough or smart enough to engineer other options.
No, her traitorous head had strayed to the man hovering over her.
To Brett.
The one place her mind shouldn’t go because Brett was dangerous.
Not just in a physical way as a warrior, but because he had this power over her.
Was able to sway her thoughts, her entire way of thinking with nothing more than a word or a smile.
Or a scowl if needed. All he had to do was talk or look at her, and she just gravitated toward his desires.
Not a smart weakness to discover when she needed to be strong.
Exert her own will. Be prepared to sacrifice herself if needed.
Something he’d never allow her to do, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d start thinking like him, and she’d be lost.
Again.
Brett cleared his throat, making her wonder if she’d actually nodded off or had just been staring into space, thinking. About him, damn it.
Just. Freaking. Great.
She could only hope her eyes hadn’t been fully shut. That there wasn’t drool on her mouth. A quick swipe of her hand put that worry to rest, not that it made her feel any better about zoning out.
She glanced at Brett. “Thanks.”
He smiled, and it should not make her heart race. Make her entire body heat. “You look like you need Ice to set up an IV drip of this stuff. No one would question it if you needed some more sleep.”
Ellis coughed at his words, nearly spitting some of the coffee across the table at Bishop and Kameron.
How could Brett mention sleeping—the bed where he’d spent part of the night inside Ellis—so casually?
Without a hint of blush or hitch in his voice that would broadcast exactly what they’d done together?
Because she’d been working hard to keep it all down.
In check. No glancing his way unless he was talking.
No touching or standing too close. Nothing couples would do. Because they weren’t, were they?
But to pull it all off, she’d had to dig deep into her operative training because Brett looked amazing.
Black tee, tight jeans and combat boots.
Tousled hair that tumbled across his eyes, highlighting the stunning blue color.
His scruff was now pretty much a beard, accentuating his strong jaw and high cheekbones.
It took just a hint of the pretty-boy vibe away. Gave him a bit more of the warrior one.
So, just mentioning sleeping—when he’d been part of the reason she hadn’t slept.
Or maybe, the reason she’d actually slept soundly for a few precious hours—seemed like risky territory.
One that would alert his teammates that they were sharing more than just the room.
Though, they hadn’t reacted to her reaction, just now.
No chuckling. Teasing. Nothing but stoic silence from smug faces.
Shit.
They already knew. All of them.
Of course, they did. They were trained observers.
Had been taught to recognize the slightest twitch of someone’s lips, or the narrowing of their eyes.
A passing look or a word out of place. That didn’t have the right intonation.
They’d used their skills for interrogation or deciding whether an informant was lying and trying to send them into an ambush.
But it was essentially the same thing. Just different outcomes.
Ellis was good at schooling her features. And she’d been on top of her game since waking up in Brett’s arms. Sun streaming in the windows. His heat finally taking away the ever-present chill she’d felt. Five years’ worth of chill. A deep-seated cold that she’d accepted as part of her new life.
The realization had shocked her. It had only taken one night, one encounter, to turn her world inside out. Deconstruct her in a way she wasn’t sure she could reassemble. Not without Brett being part of the foundation.
He’d smiled, kissed her, then gotten up.
Showered. Dressed. Then, he’d walked out into the other room as if he’d spent the night in the chair, instead of deep inside her.
Taking her from one orgasm to the next. It might not have lasted all night, but she’d felt the effects all night.
His body sheltering hers. His arms holding her tight.
She vaguely remembered having a dream, maybe lashing out, but he’d been there.
Had simply kissed her forehead, and she’d drifted off.
She never fell back asleep after a nightmare.
Ever. Yet, with Brett holding her, she’d simply passed out.
Ellis had taken time showering, getting dressed in the spare clothes Kameron had lent her.
Wondering how she still smelled like Brett even after she’d tried to rinse away the previous night.
While heading for the main room—the rest of his team—she’d switched into operative mode.
Pushed everything down. Became stone cold, or as much as she could while still being around people she cared about.
Friends. She couldn’t hide the truth from Brett, from herself, but she could keep it under wraps.
Just another mission she’d never discuss with anyone.
Brett had acted similarity. He’d been affectionate but not overly so.
Not to the point his buddies would have questioned it.
Would have thought it was different to how he’d been worried about her the previous night.
Looked out for her well-being. Nothing overt that screamed they’d had mind-altering sex.
The kind that set standards. Made it impossible to consider being with anyone else.
Hell, Brett had already had that effect on her. Last night had only driven home the truth—she was hopelessly in love with him.
But his team, his freaking brothers, had sussed it out.
In fact, now that she thought about it, at least a couple of them would have been awake last night.
Standing watch. Safehouse might be what the Marshal Service called this place, but nowhere was truly safe.
Not from McCormick. From his resources. So, it only stood to reason that they’d set up a rotating watch.
Ensure they weren’t caught by surprise, again. Which ultimately meant…
Christ, they’d probably heard her and Brett going at it.
Bed springs creaking. Low moans. Ellis didn’t really remember any peripheral noises.
Couldn’t swear that the headboard hadn’t been tapping against the wall, or that she hadn’t cried out Brett’s name.
She thought they’d been discreet, but she’d been too damn invested, too in-the-moment to register anything beyond Brett, and what he was doing to her.
His hands smoothing along her skin. His voice deep and raspy in her ear.
The way he’d stayed on top of her because she’d confessed it made her feel safe.
This was quickly becoming much more than a simple mission. But what really scared her was that she didn’t want it to stop. Wanted to stay there, with him. Let the rest of the world fade. Slide sideways because he was enough. He’d always been enough.
Ellis pushed her hand through her hair, glancing around the table—the truth evident in the way the other men smiled at her—then back to Brett. “I’m fine.”
He scowled. It was like a punch of emotion right to her stomach, and she had to fight not to lift her hand—smooth the lines creasing his face.
That would be a strategic mistake. Like waving a white flag in the air.
Surrendering her will to his. Couldn’t happen.
Not with CIA bastards on their tail. With the horizon an empty slate.
The true course of her mission unknown. She needed to maintain some semblance of distance, if for no other reason than to keep him safe.
Hopefully removed enough that if she went down, he didn’t burn right alongside of her.
So, she made a point of rolling her eyes, hoping it might ease the tension. “When did you become this giant mother hen? Yeah, I’m a bit tired. Like I told Bishop before, it’s been a long freaking five years, but I can push through.”
Brett’s eye twitched a bit, then he was leaning in. Invading her space. “We can pick up from last night if you need to.”
For one split second, Ellis froze. Just froze, because the look in his eyes.
Having him so close, his heat warming her skin.
She thought he was talking about the sex.
About taking her back to the bedroom, stripping them both down, then plunging inside her.
Just like that. No foreplay needed. Just him looking at her was enough.