Sonata (North Security 3)

Liam dampens a handful of napkins and runs it over my skin. I suck in a breath at the feel of coarse paper over my skin, the brush of his fingertips across my nipples. He doesn’t even seem to notice my nudity. His expression is that of a soldier during battle, severe and intimidating.

“Are you hurt?” His voice comes out gravelly.

“No,” I say, feeling breathless. “Not really.” It did hurt at the time. Or maybe it just shocked me. Finding myself half-naked and in a tiny enclosed space shocked me more than that. There isn’t enough room for both of us. There isn’t enough oxygen either. The lack makes me breathe more deeply. My breasts move almost enough to brush his shirt.

He dampens another napkin and brushes my skin. “We’ll tell the train there’s a medical emergency. At the very least you’ll need painkillers.”

“Please. No. It really doesn’t hurt that bad. It mostly took me by surprise.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his green eyes piercing.

A flush rises to my skin that has nothing to do with the hot liquid or the cool napkins. Shivers wrack my body. He said he wouldn’t touch me until I played the violin. “You’re touching me, you know.”

“Only to make sure you’re okay.” He reaches down to the hem of his own T-shirt, a worn green henley. I can only stare as he yanks it over his head. With no ceremony or warning he pulls it over my head. Then I’m draped in fabric much too large for me, my nipples pressing against the thin cloth. It’s almost worse than being exposed, feeling the warm fabric, being surrounded by the masculine scent of him. Now he’s the one half-naked.

He turns gruff. “That should keep you warm.”

Broad shoulders rest atop a muscled chest. Abs stack down to the waist of his jeans. A dusting of gold-tinted hair covers his skin, lighter than what’s on his head. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked. Only a few days ago I poured rubbing alcohol over his wound, but it’s not the same when I’m tending to him. Not the same when he’s tending to me. We can treat each other’s wounds with pure determination. Even now my gaze goes to the white bandage, still in place despite the flurry of action.

“What about you?” I ask, worried now. “Did you hurt—”

He makes an exasperated sound. “I’m fine.”

From a deep, unseen spring, amusement bubbles

up. “We make a fine pair, don’t we? Both of us hurting, both of us pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Humor forms emerald lights. Then he sobers. His fingers brush my cheek. “This may not be the time or the place, but I do love you, Samantha Brooks.”

A gasp sounds far away. It comes from me. A poignant ache fills me, much more painful than any spill could be. It feels like hope. Words, words, words. I’ve never been good with them. If I could play him a song with my bow and violin it would be answer enough. Instead I use my fingers a different way. I run them up his biceps, playing an opening chord. And then across his pecs.

His lids dip lower. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t the time or the place,” I whisper, leaning forward to kiss his chest. The springy hair tickles my nose. His masculine scent begins a heavy beat in my center.

“It’s not,” he agrees, but he doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t leave. Instead he dips his head. His lips nudge mine. I open in explicit invitation. He sweeps his tongue inside, tasting me. “Tea,” he mutters. “You taste like tea. You’ll never be able to sleep tonight if you have more.”

My lips curve beneath his onslaught. “One more cup.”

With reluctance he sets me away from him. He opens the door and pulls me after him. There’s no sign of the woman or the spilled cup of tea. Josh lounges in one of the empty seats across the aisle. My surprise at seeing him earlier rears again. “You’re in France?”

“Apparently,” he says with his casual insouciance.

Liam reaches overhead to dig through the luggage. I work hard to ignore the way it makes his back muscles flex. He pulls out a shirt and puts it on. “What did you find out?”

A shrug from Josh. “Her name and address.”

That makes Liam glare. “Did she lie to you?”

“I saw her passport. It looks legit.”

“It was probably just an accident,” I say, mostly because I don’t want Liam to worry. Also because I don’t want to worry, myself. We’ve only come out of hiding for a few hours. They can’t have found me that quickly, can they? Nerves churn in my stomach.

Liam doesn’t look convinced. “You said her passport was real?”

“I said it looked legit. Actually, I think it was a fake. A very good one. I already put a tail on her, so we’ll see what we find out. Welcome back to the land of living, where there are a disturbing number of people who want you dead.”

Liam