Page 51 of Covert Operation

And it compels me headlong into another… Mishap.

Because all those times I woke up terrified, traumatized, and alone, there was one thing I wished I could have more than anything: Someone who made it better to hold me and tell me it would all be okay.

So I slip from my bed, cross the few feet separating us, and crawl in beside Zeke, curving my body against the back of his. I hook one arm around his waist and squeeze tight, closing my eyes as tears prick the corners.

Because now I know why he’s in the gym at midnight. Why he’s up and working at five thirty. And I hate it. I hate that he’s been so alone for so long, facing his worst nightmare every time he falls asleep, with no one to help him the way he helps everyone else.

I’m barely in place a second before Zeke goes stiff, his large frame going still.

“Savannah?” His hand latches onto my arm where it’s laced around his body. “What’s wrong?”

Normally I would love how his first concern is for me. Not tonight. Tonight I know that while his first thought is someone else’s well being, no one worries over him. No one takes care of him. Supports him.

Makes him feel safe.

Fuck that.

“You were having a nightmare.” I keep my voice soft, but not the hold I have on him. I might not be capable of killing people or hunting down bad guys, but that doesn’t mean I can’t protect him from some things. “Go back to sleep.”

“Savannah, I?—”

“Stop.” I say it louder than I mean to, but maybe that’s not a bad thing, because it seems to surprise him, sending Zeke twisting my direction, like he thinks he can talk me out of comforting him.

He can’t.

I swallow hard, because now we’re face-to-face again and I don’t have faith in my decision-making skills when he’s so close likethis. “It’s my turn to take care of you.” I reach up to trace the lines of his face, letting my touch brush across his skin. “I want to help you the way you help me.” I take a shaky breath before admitting the full truth. “And I like being close to you.” Another shaky breath. “I like touching you.” My hand moves over his heated skin, following a path down his neck, tracing the edge of the small bandage on his shoulder, before coming to rest on his bare chest. “Can I touch you?”

Zeke’s hard stare bores into me as the seconds tick past. Finally, his chin tucks in the smallest of nods, granting me the permission I desperately desire.

I don’t hesitate—not with him. The old insecurities I had with men before don’t apply to Zeke. I don’t feel awkward or uncertain. Hesitant or shy. He really has made me brave.

And he might be kicking himself for it now.

The first area I want to explore is the slightly textured hair on his chest. I’m fascinated by it. It’s just so… male. I’ve accidentally imagined how it might feel against my bare skin, and the possibility I might actually find out has my nipples pulling tight and a dull throb pulsing between my thighs.

Desire. It’s something I never thought I’d feel again. I didn’t experience it for a year. Not a single time since my abduction have I felt the need—the urge—for release. Right up until I accidentally ran my hands over Zeke’s body that day in the med wing.

Since then I’ve worked hard to keep it in check. To tamp it down. To pretend I don’t think of him in ways I shouldn’t.

I can’t pretend now though. Not with him so close. The scent I crave surrounding me. The warmth of his big body sinkinginto my skin. His heated gaze only on me as I continue my exploration.

And my admissions.

“That day in the med bay, after you were shot, I ran away because I was scared of how much I liked touching you.” My eyes follow my hand as it moves over the barely raised ridges of his ribs. “I hadn’t wanted to touch anyone in so long.” A small smile curves my lips. “It would make sense you would be the one to change that.”

“Why does that make sense?” Zeke’s question is a low growl, and the sound shoots straight to my clit, reminding me she’s tired of being ignored.

I press my thighs together, trying to smother out the need building. “Because you are the only person who makes me feel safe enough to have those feelings.” I lift my eyes to his, pulling in a sharp breath at the desire I see reflected back at me in their shadowy depths. “You’re the only person I trust enough to let them touch me back.” The flame that’s been quietly burning since that day in the med bay flares, blazing across my skin and low in my belly. “Would you touch me back?”

Again, Zeke stares at me long and hard, before finally saying, “I shouldn’t.”

The answer isn’t unexpected, and that’s why my next words are ready. “I didn’t ask if you should.” My hand glides lower, moving over the hard plane of his belly and getting dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. I want him to see I’m not afraid. That I know what I’m doing and I’m doing it with intent. “I asked if you would.”

The tips of my fingers barely brush against the gathered flannel below his belly button before one big hand circles my wrist, stopping my trajectory. His hold is firm and careful as his eyes move over my face, breaths ragged as they fan across my skin.

Then the room shifts and I’m on my back, pinned under six and a half feet of deadly mercenary as Zeke’s mouth seals over mine. His kiss is possessive and consuming. Hard and demanding. It’s like the levy holding him back broke and now all I can do is hold on, knowing he won’t let me drown.

His lips drag from mine, burning a path along my jaw. Not leaving my skin as he demands, “Tell me to stop, Savannah.”