Chapter 6 Tag
TAG
Every wall I’d built crumbled as I got lost in Leila’s mouth, hot and demanding against mine.
I buried my hands in her silky hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss, and swallowed the soft sounds she made.
She tasted like whiskey mixed with desire, want, and need—the things I’d denied myself for far too long.
The fire roared beside us, casting wild shadows on the walls, but its heat was nothing compared to what burned between us. Every reason I’d kept her at arm’s length, every time I’d called her “kid” to maintain separation, all fell away under the weight of her response.
She arched against me, seeking more, and I gave it to her. My mouth traveled from her lips to her jaw, down to that spot where her neck met her shoulder that had tormented me for so long. She gasped when my teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, and her fingers tightened in my hair enough to hurt.
“Tag.” She murmured my name like a prayer. Christ, the way she said it nearly destroyed what little control I had left.
I groaned against her throat when her nails dragged across my back. Every touch was like redemption and damnation rolled into one. The storm we’d endured thus far was nothing compared to the hunger and passion that tangled into something I couldn’t fight anymore.
I pulled away, both of us breathing hard. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, and her chest rose and fell as she fought for air. We stared at each other, the weight of what we were about to do settling over us.
I was at a crossroads. I had time to remind myself of the promise I’d made Idris and of my vow never to marry.
“Leila…” Each time I repeated her name, my voice came out rough and broken, betraying everything I felt.
She must have heard the hesitation, because her hands framed my face and her thumbs brushed against the stubble on my jaw. “Don’t,” she whispered with fierce determination. “Don’t you dare pull away now. Not after all this time. Not after this torture.”
All this time. She was right. Three years of my body burning every time she entered a room, watching other men notice and approach her while I stood in the shadows, grinding my teeth to dust.
Every instinct that had kept me alive through countless missions screamed at me to stop.
But I couldn’t.
I studied her face one more time. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and at this moment, she was mine. Even if only for these stolen days.
I stood, lifting her with me. She wrapped her legs around my waist without hesitation, and I carried her to the bed.
She gasped at the movement, then her mouth found my neck, lips and tongue and teeth working against my pulse point. The sensation of her weight in my arms, solid and real and warm, threatened to bring me to my knees.
“You’re going to kill me,” I muttered against her hair on our way to the bed. My hands gripped her arse, holding her steady.
The bed frame creaked ominously under our combined weight as I lowered her onto the heavy blankets. I followed her down, unable to break contact, needing her beneath me. But as I braced myself above her, gazing down at her face illuminated by firelight, sanity made one last desperate attempt.
“If we do this…” Each word fought its way out. “When we leave here, when the storm passes and the roads clear—this ends.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and pain flickered across her features before she controlled it, and the glimpse of hurt nearly broke my resolve. But I had to be clear. I had to protect us both from false hope.
“I can’t promise you more than the days we’re here,” I continued, hating myself more with each syllable. “I can’t give you forever. I won’t give you marriage or a white picket fence or whatever normal people have. My parents—”
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice steady despite the tears gathering in her eyes.
“And I understand that you’re scared.” Her hands moved to my shoulders, not pushing me away, but not pulling me closer either.
“And you need to know that I’m not asking for forever.
” Her voice softened. “I’m not asking you to change your mind or make promises you can’t keep.
I’m asking for now. Can you give me that? ”
The rational part of my brain screamed countless warnings. This would only make leaving harder. This would only cause us both more pain when it ended. This was a mistake of epic proportions.
But looking down at her, seeing the acceptance in her eyes along with the want, I realized I’d already lost this battle.
I’d lost it the moment we set foot in this castle.
Hell, maybe I’d lost it years before when I realized that, despite every attempt not to, she was the woman I fantasized about endlessly.
“This won’t end well,” I warned, one last attempt at sanity.
“I know.”
“You’ll hate me when it’s over.”
“No,” she said with complete certainty. “I could never hate you, Tag. Even if you break my heart, even if this destroys me, I could never hate you.”
“Leila—” I began again.
“Tag, please,” she said, tracing a scar on my ribs from a knife wound in Prague, then another on my shoulder from a bullet graze in Beirut. “So many,” she murmured, her touch featherlight.
“Occupational hazard.” My voice came out rougher than intended as her fingers continued their exploration.
I reached for the waistband of her leggings, hooking my thumbs in the elastic.
“Lift up,” I said softly, and when she did, I peeled them down her legs, taking my time, revealing strong thighs, the curve of her calves, and the delicate bones of her ankles.
The black knickers she wore matched her bra. Neither left much to the imagination.
“Christ.” I sat on my heels, looking at her. “You’re—”
“Your turn,” she said again, emboldened now, reaching for the drawstring of my track pants.
I helped her push them down, along with my boxers, until we were both nearly naked. The firelight played across her skin, highlighting curves and shadows. I had to close my eyes for a moment against the rush of want that threatened to overwhelm me.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
My breath caught when I opened my lids and witnessed her open desire. I hooked my fingers in her knickers and drew them down slowly.
“Beautiful,” I breathed, meaning it with every fiber of my being. She explored the terrain of my chest with a reverence that made my breath catch—tracing scars from old missions, mapping the muscles with her fingertips like she was trying to memorize me.
I let my gaze linger on her nakedness, keeping her as warm as I could with the scorching heat that flowed through my body.
“You’re staring,” she said, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.
“You’re incredible,” I replied, meaning it.
I lowered my mouth to her neck, tasting the salt on her skin. Her hands tangled in my hair as I moved lower.
“Tag, please,” she gasped, arching beneath me.
Her dark nipples were already hard with arousal when I lowered my head to take one into my mouth.
She cried out, arching off the bed, her nails digging into my flesh hard enough to leave marks. Good. I wanted evidence that this had been real, that I hadn’t dreamed it.
I lavished attention on one breast, then the other, drunk on the sounds she made and the way she writhed beneath me. The sensation of her nakedness against my own nearly ended things before they’d properly begun. She was so soft, so warm, so completely fitted against me.
“I need you,” she whispered against my mouth. “God, Tag, I’ve needed you for so long.”
Her words left me breathless. I kissed her again, deep and desperate, pouring suppressed want into it as I reached between her legs and her wetness coated my fingers.
I took my time exploring her sex, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan. When I thrust two fingers inside, she was so wet and ready. The knowledge that I’d done this to her, that she wanted me this much, had me on the edge of climaxing again far too soon.
I stroked her, watching her expression as it changed. She was so responsive, so open in her pleasure. There were no masks, no walls, just Leila coming apart under my touch.
“Tag, please,” she gasped. “I need all of you. Now.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, positioning myself at her entrance and forcing myself to go slow despite every instinct screaming at me to claim her.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said, wrapping her legs around me. “Please, Tag. I need this. I need you.”
When I pushed forward, discovering how tight she was, everything stopped.
The resistance was unmistakable, undeniable. My entire body went rigid as the reality of it crashed through me.
“Leila?”
I saw the flush on her cheeks, the way she bit her lip, and the guilty look that confirmed what I’d just realized.
“You’re a virgin.” Not a question. A statement. A revelation that changed everything.
She nodded, not meeting my eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words came out harsher than intended, but Christ, what had she been thinking?
“Because you would have stopped,” she whispered. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You would have done the noble thing and stopped, and I couldn’t bear it. Not after waiting so long.”
“Of course I would have stopped. Your first time shouldn’t be—” I struggled for words, but my brain short-circuited. “It shouldn’t be with someone who can’t offer you a future. You should have someone who can promise you tomorrow and mean it.”
“There’s never been anyone else,” she said. “Only you. It’s only ever been you, Tag.”
My God, she’d been waiting. For me. Only me.
“I didn’t save myself for marriage or for some perfect moment in a rose petal-covered bed. I saved myself for the only man I’ve ever wanted.”