Page 64 of Theirs to Corrupt
Pax’s expression softens slightly as he continues. “We didn’t have a lot. Mom died when I was young, so he did the best he could with an eight-year-old he didn’t relate to. He left the military for me and joined the local police force.” He pauses. “He was killed in the line of duty when I was seventeen.”
“Oh God, Pax…” My heart aches for him, and I resist the urge to go to him.
“I was pissed at the entire fucking world. And…” He gives a wry smile. “The aunt who took me in gave me two choices. Join the military or be thrown out.”
“Yikes,” I murmur, my mind racing to imagine a young, angry Pax facing such a decision.
“She was more generous than I deserved.”
I wonder if there’s more to the story. “Special forces?” I persist.
“Yeah.” He finally takes a drink. “Till I had enough, and Hawkeye recruited me. Recommended by a friend.”
“Torin and Mira? Obviously you trust them?”
“With my life. They recently got married.”
I suspected there was some type of relationship, but I hadn’t guessed they were actually married. “I’m surprised the organization allows it.”
“Company policy doesn’t necessarily prohibit it.”
Makes sense, I guess, since Pax is evidently more than just a protector to Link. “But that they get to go on assignments together?”
“They’re both highly trained agents, and Torin teaches at the company’s training center in Nevada. Fieldwork is an important component of instruction. They’re not often assigned together, but Hawkeye doesn’t want to risk losing either of them, so he ensures they have time together.”
I have a million more questions, but suddenly I yawn.
“You’ve had a long couple of days,” Pax says softly.
Is that all it’s been?
“We have a lifetime to learn about each other.”
Touched by the reassurance in his voice, I smile. “I guess that’s true.” I stand and pick up my glass. “Good night.”
“Sleep well, sweetheart.”
At the entrance to my room, I look over my shoulder.
He hasn’t moved or taken his gaze off me.
My heart thumping a little from his endearment, I close the door.
For a few moments, still processing my time with Pax, I look out the window and sip my wine.
Finally, feeling drowsy, I try to undress. But my zipper is impossible to reach. No matter how hard I try, I can’t manage it alone.
Giving up, I return to the living room. Pax has remained exactly where he was.
“Uhm…” I begin. Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I could use some help,” I admit, gesturing to my back.
“Of course.” After putting down his glass, he comes to stand behind me.
The warmth of his body sears me.
He grasps the zipper, and I hold my breath as he slowly lowers it. The brush of his knuckles against my spine sends rivers of awareness through me.
His fingers linger at the base of my spine, and I’m very much aware of every point where our bodies almost meet.