Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eighteen hours.
That’s how long it had been since she’d last seen Ethan.
Since he’d snuck out of her room, leaving her to question if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
The kind that would forever alter the course of how the next fifty years played out, and if she’d resigned herself to that limbo she’d been thinking about last night.
It wasn’t as if she’d expected him to stay. Not when there were still so many unanswered questions between them. But when he’d opted for that second round...
She’d had a glimmer of hope. That maybe he’d be willing to talk once they’d gotten the sex out of the way. Eased a bit of the tension. Had dropped their guard enough they could deal with the real issues.
But she’d drifted off the moment he’d gathered her into his arms—kissed the top of her head. The same way he’d done a thousand times in the past. As if they hadn’t spent the past six months apart. Were still a couple.
Any thoughts of talking had faded into the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. The warmth of his skin on hers. She wouldn’t have woken, at all, if he hadn’t stood just outside her open door for what seemed like forever. Cold air swirling into the room. Rousing her from sleep.
He’d had his hand on the knob as his gaze traveled from the corridor to the bed, then back.
As if he couldn’t quite make his feet work.
Get them to take those few steps down the hall.
She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t breathed, wanting to call him back to bed, but knowing it had to be his choice.
That she didn’t have the right to ask him to stay.
He’d looked conflicted before his shoulders had drooped, and he’d turned away, closing the door behind him. She’d thought she’d heard voices in the corridor, but they’d quickly dimmed into her pulse pounding inside her head, her stomach threatening to heave.
It was silly. Agonizing over the fact he’d left.
Especially when she’d suspected that’s how the night would play out.
And, if he’d called it quits after bending her over the desk, she wouldn’t have been as surprised.
The sex had been hot. Primal. Two bodies grinding together for a mutual release. But loving her face-to-face...
Even if he hadn’t licked her through her second orgasm, having him watch her as he moved inside her.
.. It had taken her back to all those months they’d been lovers.
Roommates. When she’d fooled herself into believing she really was Anna Carmichael.
That MI6 had been nothing more than a dream she’d woken from. That her life was hers to decide.
It hadn’t worked out that way, and allowing herself to fall into that mindset had been her undoing. Had made Ethan leaving burn hotter than it should have. He hadn’t made any promises. Had given her more than enough opportunities to tell him to leave before they’d gotten naked.
But how could she have asked him to leave when she’d been dying to taste him one more time?
Hear him whisper her name. Feel every inch of his body touch hers.
And it had been better than anything she’d conjured in his absence.
Had blown all her previous benchmarks away.
Resetting them to an even more impossible standard.
The fact he’d been out on the snowmobile with Gibson before she’d walked into the hanger had only emphasized how low she’d fallen.
Because she’d been early. Had hoped to catch even just a glimpse of Ethan as he headed out on his usual perimeter checks.
She wasn’t sure what he and Miller were doing, but they’d disappeared somewhere inside the lodge by the time she was done making supply runs and taking some of the groups for tours.
Apparently, sight-seeing was nearly as important as obtaining illegal black-market weaponry.
At least, it had been to the men she’d flown around.
None of which had sounded like the blokes from last night.
That was another disappointment. While she’d gained access into their covert CCTV feed on the lower level, she hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out who Parker was.
All the feeds during her foray into the section had been erased in order to protect her identity.
And by the time they’d come back online, the sector had been empty.
She’d snuck peeks at the video all day, but it had only been routine meetings.
Men she’d seen ambling around the facility all week.
What looked like fairly benign deals. Not the kind she’d suspect this Parker guy would be involved in if he was working for Smyth.
Surely, that asshole wanted deadlier weapons.
Maybe something with bio-tech. Either way, it made her little excursion last night seem just as reckless as Ethan had claimed.
At least, no one had identified them, the entire ordeal seemingly dismissed without any kind of investigation.
Maybe chalked up to faulty wiring like that guy, Jackson, had suggested.
Though, Bishop had given her an odd look this morning.
As if he’d known she’d been involved but didn’t have any proof to call her on it.
Which suited her. Ethan had already chastised her enough.
She didn’t need anyone else questioning her sanity. Or her worth.
Which probably explained why she hadn’t ventured out, yet, tonight.
Had spent the past couple of hours staring at the walls.
Lost in thought. Secretly hoping Ethan might knock on her door.
Though, if she were being honest, she should be the one to make the next grand gesture. She owed him that much.
So, why was it so hard to turn the handle and walk out? Like Ethan leaving, last night. Stuck there as if trapped in quicksand. Some invisible force preventing her from growing a set and confronting him. She’d already argued that she had the bigger bollocks. Time for her to live up to that claim.
It took her a few tries to walk over to the door and wrap her fingers around the handle. Another couple of deep breaths to actually turn it. Psych herself up for the task at hand. Confronting Ethan. Possibly ruining any prospect at a second chance.
Swinging the door open felt like moving some hidden portal out of place that had been waiting for centuries for someone to look inside. As if she were pulling the weight of the world along with that slab of wood.
Having a fist nearly knock her in the face had her backpedaling. Gasping in a breath as she reached for the knife stashed in her belt. She had it balanced between her fingers, her arm cocked—ready to throw—before a hushed curse carried across the room.
“Whoa, Olivia, it’s just me.”
She blinked, meeting that familiar hazel gaze. “Ethan?” She bit back the other words that sprang to mind, slowly lowering the weapon and tucking it back in the sheath. “Bloody hell.”
Ethan frowned, looking at her waist. “A knife? Seriously? Something wrong with a good old pistol?”
“Like I said. Spy. I don’t often go into ops carrying handguns.”
“But a knife is better? What is it with you and Gibson?” He groaned. “Christ, he taught you how to throw them, didn’t he? No wonder you partner up with him. You’re both nuts.”
He hadn’t really posed it as a question. More of a horrified realization. The same way he’d likely say, you’re a serial killer.
Olivia held her head a bit higher, crossing her arms over her chest. “Miller’s a bit extreme when it comes to knives, but yes. He’s an excellent teacher.”
Something flashed in Ethan’s eyes as he took a predatory step inside her room. “That all he teach you?”
Had he honestly just asked if she’d taken Gibson Miller as a lover? Because it had sounded that way. Just like when he’d said they needed to talk, and all she’d heard was that he wanted to make love. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious.”
“Gibson’s a colleague. A friend. More like a frustrating older brother, to be honest. So, no, Ethan, we’ve never been lovers. Why would you even think that?”
“Why? Because you’re both spies. Both insane. Spend a lot of time together. Not to mention he has that pet name for you.”
“Gibson’s always called me Livy. It’s just his way.”
“Except where he calls every other woman, love.”
“And the part where he’s gay?”
That look. Like she’d punched him in stomach. “Excuse me?”
“It means he only dates blokes.”
“I know what it means. Dungeon’s…” A huff as he shook his head. “Fuck. Guess that makes the jealousy seem a bit childish.”
“Jealousy is childish.”
“I didn’t mean to insult him. Though…” He raised his brows as he seemed to consider the idea. “If I swung that way…” His voice rasped into a grunt when she hit him in the chest. Hard.
“Is that what you came here to say? That you think Gibson’s utterly peng and are considering changing teams? Maybe gonna chat him up?”
“Not that I understood half of what you said, but I’m assuming, no. And I doubt Gib would give me a second look.”
“Then, why were you creeping at my door?”
That frown deepened. “Why did you open it?”
“Asked you, first.” She cringed inwardly at the instinctual reply. Talk about childish.
Ethan clenched his jaw, then took another step inside, closing the door with a firm slam. “If you must know, I was building up the courage to knock on your damn door. But you beat me to it.”
Had she heard him right? Ethan Vale—sniper extraordinaire, and the guy who’d consciously tried to get himself killed on damn near every mission—had needed to build up his courage? Just to knock on her door? “I…I don’t understand...”
He kissed her. Just like last night. A step forward, both hands spearing through her hair as his lips molded to hers. Not quite as rough as when they’d been arguing. But just as hot. As all-encompassing.