Exploited
Page 46

“You can tell me if there’s something going on. I won’t judge you. I will only try and help if I can. I’m amazingly resourceful.”
I squeezed his hands, pulling them away from my cheeks, holding them, lacing fingers. “I’m fine, Mason. You don’t need to ride to my rescue.”
His lips curved upward into a beautiful smile. He was hard to look at sometimes. Particularly when I was lying.
The guilt bubbled again. Making me all too aware of its presence.
Why does he have to be so wonderful? Damn him.
Mason squeezed my hands. “I’m good at the rescuing thing. It’s sort of my job.”
We laughed together.
I relaxed, relieved that the moment of accidental transparency was over.
“Come on, then, unless you want to hang out in the hallway all evening.” Mason led me into the living room, where he had music playing. The Dandy Warhols. He was a man who remembered every detail. I just had to keep them all straight.
A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the coffee table. He poured me a glass and handed it to me.
I gulped it down, barely tasting it.
I almost jumped out of my skin when he put a hand in the center of my back. The heat of his palm seared my flesh through my clothing.
“Take it easy, or this will be a really quick evening,” he teased, his thumb running a trail back and forth. I wanted to move away. To put distance between us. My head rebelled against the closeness.
My heart wanted me to give in.
Without conscious thought, I felt myself leaning into him. I couldn’t help it. Whether I wanted to or not, I was becoming accustomed to the way he touched me. Addicted to the fizzing in my veins at his proximity.
He wasn’t at all what I had expected when I made the plan to get close to the federal agent in charge of my case.
He had been a name. A face on a website. The hero in newspaper articles.
Random. Nondescript.
I hadn’t been ready for the flesh-and-blood man.
Why hadn’t I thought this through? Why hadn’t I prepared myself for this feigned closeness that felt so much like the real thing?
“Don’t mind the lush,” I said, chuckling uneasily, putting my now-empty glass on the coffee table and turning in to his arms.
He pushed my hair back from my forehead, his fingers lingering. “I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmured.
He wouldn’t let it go.
It was what made him so successful at his job. Why he was such a threat to everything I had worked for.
“All I’m thinking about is you,” I insisted.
“Somehow I doubt that.” His words were wary. “I wish you were, but I can see in your eyes that something’s troubling you.” Then he kissed the tip of my nose. It was such a surprisingly gentle gesture, full of sweetness that had me melting.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, his nose rubbing my cheek. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath.
He was lethal.
“I like you, Hannah. I like you a lot. I don’t want to push you or move too fast, but I can’t seem to help myself. I want to spend time with you. I want to know you.” His soft words warmed my skin, his kisses light as he dug his way into places I was determined to keep him out of.
I felt the doubt again. It was becoming a permanent fixture in my hardened resolve.
This was more than I had bargained for.
I had to change the course of the conversation quickly. I needed to put us back into territory I was more comfortable with.
A place where deceit didn’t matter because he wasn’t looking for the type of intimacy I couldn’t give him.
I couldn’t have sweetness. Tender caresses and heartfelt reassurances.
I couldn’t risk it.
Purposefully, I slid my arms up and around his neck as if we had always been like this.
Together.
No! Don’t think like that! Not now!
Remember why you’re here.
I surreptitiously scanned the room, looking for the briefcase.
I couldn’t see it anywhere. That didn’t mean anything. It was probably in the bedroom. That was where it had been before.
I would have to find time to check. I had to see what was in that file.
But now I had to get him exactly where I wanted him.
So I kissed him. Firmly. Insistently.
His lips were warm and sweet.
I shivered.
This was what deception tasted like.
It was delicious.
It was terrifying.
I curled my fingers into his shirt, pulling him closer.
The gentle mood shifted into something primal. Something seductive. Something I was more prepared for.
I bit down on the soft flesh of his bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth.
He moaned. I groaned. I ran my hand down his chest, over the bulge in his jeans. His physical reaction excited me.
I felt powerful.
“Hannah,” he whispered, my name sounding agonized.
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
We stood at a precipice. Ready to go over. I was leading him down a path we couldn’t turn back from.
Was I ready for the consequences of entering into this deception with this man?
Doubt.
It clawed at my insides.
They know that Hannah Whelan is Freedom Overdrive.
“Don’t get caught. And don’t get too close. Remember our purpose.”
Then his hands were everywhere. In my hair. On my ass. Pulling frantically at my shirt.
I broke away, out of breath, my lips raw and tingling. I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling his frantic, desperate heartbeat beneath my palm.
“So eager, aren’t you? I like that in a man,” I said, and tried to laugh, but there was an edge to my voice. Fractured and breaking. Give him a little. Take a little away. Push and pull until he was needy. Willing to do anything.
Mason’s eyes were unfocused. He blinked rapidly as if just waking up. He cupped my cheek and kissed me again. Softer. Gentler.
“What is it about you, Hannah, that makes it so easy for me to lose control?” he murmured. Maybe more to himself than to me.
I didn’t answer him.
I couldn’t tell him that I had maneuvered our paths so that this moment was an eventuality.
I could throw it all away for the taste of what he was giving me.
My need to survive was at war with the lust that raged through my body.
I could give in.
Just for a moment.
No more.