“Archer?”
Her voice shook him out of his sex-induced trance, and he blinked, then realized she’d closed her legs and pulled the towel down until it covered her mound.
Heat erupted in his stomach and shot straight to his face. His gaze jerked to her foot, and he slapped on a bandage and then quickly pushed to his feet. “You’re done. I need a shower.”
A cold shower. Ice-cold shower. Maybe ten, so he could cool the fuck off.
“Zane?” she called when he reached the bathroom door. “What about your shoulder?”
His shoulder? His shoulder was the last thing on his mind. Every cell in his body was currently condensed behind his fly. “It’s fine.”
He closed the bathroom door quickly at his back, then braced his hands on the sink and dropped his head while he breathed deep and tried to settle his raging hormones.
Zane . . . Why the hell did it sound so fucking good when she called him by his first name?
Because you’re a moron. Because you’re still whipped. Because you like getting your teeth kicked in by the viper in the other room.
He looked up at his reflection, blurry from the still-damp mirror, thanks to Eve’s shower. A few bruises had formed around his temple where he’d gotten hit—he couldn’t remember which time—but it was his eyes he focused on. Dilated pupils, dark gaze, skin flushed and hot from his arousal. His flesh felt tight, like it wasn’t his own, and the raging hard-on in his pants screamed, Get the hell back out there! but he refused to listen.
His fingers turned white where he gripped the sink tight. He wasn’t going down that road with Eve again. This morning was the result of too much adrenaline and way too little sleep, but if he went out there now, it’d simply be stupidity. Clearing his name was now all that mattered. Not how tight she’d be. Or how slick he could make her. Or how fucking good she’d feel when he drove inside her. Freedom trumped sex any day of the week, and she’d be the first to throw him aside to save her own ass. The sooner he remembered that, the better off he’d be.
Disgusted with himself, he flipped on the shower, then tugged off his clothes. And as the hot water cascaded over his sore muscles, he ignored the burn in his shoulder and the ache in his leg and especially the throb in his cock. Instead, he reminded himself of all the shit he’d been through because of her. Nothing—not even the hottest sex of his life—was worth living through that kind of pain again.
And he sure as shit wasn’t listening to that little voice whispering that he might already be halfway there.
13
Eve hobbled to the sack of clothing they’d picked up and tugged on the long T-shirt she’d grabbed to sleep in. She debated putting on a bra and then figured she was only going to bed, so why bother?
She glanced toward the closed bathroom door and listened to the sound of the shower, still running. Zane had been in there for at least fifteen minutes. Her mind flashed to the heated look in his eyes when she’d realized he’d been staring at her bared sex, then to the way he’d bolted out of the room when she’d caught him. Her skin grew warm and tingly when she remembered the arousal flushing his cheeks, and a heavy weight settled right between her thighs. Then an image filled her mind, this one of him standing naked beneath the spray, the water sliding over his chiseled muscles, his hand closed around his cock, stroking the length of his erection, up, down, again and again while he thought of her . . .
Heat exploded in her hips and shot fingers of arousal straight to her breasts. Her nipples pebbled against the thin cotton of her T-shirt, and she sank to the end of the bed, swiped at the perspiration on her forehead, and pressed her thighs together.
It was official. She was an idiot. Her sister was missing, the government thought she’d turned traitor and was right now looking for her, and all she could think about was mind-numbing sex with the man on the other side of the door who still didn’t completely trust her. And what was worse—what was really knocking her off her feet—was the knowledge that if Zane had reached for her a moment ago, she wouldn’t have been able to say no.
She pressed shaking fingers against her closed eyes and breathed deep. Keep it together, Eve.
Okay, so, the reality was, if he’d wanted her, he’d have taken her. Yeah, he’d been turned on—she’d seen his erection when he’d pushed to his feet—but he’d walked out because even he knew a repeat of this morning was a bad fucking idea. Sex—now—would just be a major mistake. It wouldn’t help her find her sister, and it wouldn’t clear their names. But oh God, it would feel good . . .
Her traitorous mind skipped back to this morning. To the feel of his cock pressing inside her, stretching her, drawing a groan from her lips. To the tight slide and retreat, to the electrical current that had shot through her entire body and the exquisite feeling of coming apart around him.
She braced her hands on her knees, squeezed until pain shot through her legs, and breathed deeply. Think about Olivia. Think about Roberts. Think about anything besides going into that bathroom, stripping out of your clothes, and joining Zane in that hot, wet shower.
She needed perspective. She needed someone to slap some common sense into her. Because she’d distanced herself from her family, she’d never confided anything to Olivia, and thanks to her job, she didn’t have any close girlfriends to turn to. There was only one person who knew both her and Archer and who’d been a rock for her to lean on when she’d broken things off with Archer the first time. Only one person who could possibly save her from doing something stupid right this very minute.
Her eyes popped open, and before she could stop herself, she reached for the unregistered cell phone Zane had given her and dialed the private number.
“Dietrick.”
“Carter? It’s Juliet.”
James Dietrick sighed. “Eve, where the hell are you? I tried to call Archer earlier, but he didn’t answer.”
The sexy image of Zane pleasuring himself threatened once more, but Eve forced it back. “Is this line secure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I know how to cover my ass, Juliet. Where’s Sawyer?”
“He’s in the shower. They sent a wet team after us before, when he called you from Bainbridge.”
“I know. But it wasn’t us. Feds already found the house. Nice work there, by the way.”
“Who were they?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We’re running things now. Think they might have been part of a Chechen militia with ties to the terrorists who set off that bomb.”
Eve sighed. “Great. How the hell would they have found us?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “Hey, you don’t sound so hot. Is everything okay?”
No, everything was most definitely not okay. She was dangerously close to jumping Zane’s bones, and she needed Carter to talk some sense into her before she took the situation from bad to worse. Thankfully, Carter had always been the conscience she seemed to lack. He’d been the one to warn her that things with Zane were heating up too fast back in Beirut. And he’d cautioned her to the consequences of getting involved with a fellow officer. Too bad she hadn’t listened to him sooner. Then maybe she never would have fallen in love with Archer in the first place.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just . . .” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Remind me again why he’s not like us.”
Carter chuckled. “You want the condensed or unabridged version?”
Eve’s blood hummed, and she hobbled to the window, hoping some of the damp Pacific Northwest air radiating from the glass would cool her down. “I want the sane version.”