Page 80 of Dangerous Mission
“Explain.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Why are you hiding?”
I work my jaw side to side, fighting that falling feeling. Trying to escape the whirlpool that wants to pull me back to dark places I never want to go again.
But the question raps on my brain like there’s someone else inside my head.
Why am I hiding?
“I’m not hiding from you, Aria. I want you. I really fucking want you in every way a man can take you. But you deserve more than I can give. Like normal sex.”
The farm house that Agile’s using for base camp comes into view and I wish like hell I was a different man, because I’d like nothing more than to carry Aria into one of the cabinas and forget about the last twenty-four hours.
“But I’m not that man,” I say gruffly as much to myself as to her.
“I see.” A quiet, two word reply that makes my fingers twitch on the wheel.
She might think she sees, but the deep layers are where the real me lives. The part of me that’s a fraction of the manI was before I went to war and came back broken, scarred, and a hollowed out shell.
“I’ll never be that guy.”
Now I’ve got to deal with this jacked up obsession and need to protect her in a way that makes it clear that this is going nowhere.
When I slow the truck and stop in front of one of the eight cabinas on the property, Aria sits forward. “Is this where we’re staying?”
I motion to the small blue stucco house. “That’s mine. At least it’s my temporary home while I’m in Vandemora for the mission. I put you in the one next door.”
Hers is identical in size, but the exterior is painted coral.
“What about Griff?”
“He’s in the last one on the left—the green one.”
“It was nice of you to give me my own space.”
Was it? Because I’m thinking that’s dangerous.
“We’re short a couple of guys right now and I thought you might like to have some time to decompress from all the testosterone.”
I climb out of the truck, my feet feeling heavy, my brain a washing machine full of bad energy.
She follows me to the hot pink door that leads into her accommodations.
Turning the latch, I swing the door open and fight the natural instinct to sweep the property before she comes inside.
She notices my hesitation. “Go ahead. Griff always does it.”
I don’t argue, and stalk through the small house checking the shower, the closet, pantry, and under the bed. “All clear.”
Silently, she steps inside, and looks around. Movingaround the room, she touches the back of the couch, then the glossy surface of the small dining table. “Pretty. This is really nice lodging.”
“We have a special deal with the property owners. It’s a story, actually. My teammate is now engaged to the woman that owns the farm. But that whole story is for another time.”
Moving silently, she walks to the bedroom door and stops. I find myself behind her. Too close.
Shoulders tight, she stands silently in the doorway.