Dare Me (Take Me 2)

Apparently, he felt the same way, because he didn’t speak a word. He had to know she was awake. She’d stirred slightly as the grogginess wore off. Then she’d realized she was in the perfect spot, snuggled wi

th him under the covers and hadn’t shifted in any direction since.

There were a multitude of things they’d have to hit head-on, but Damen was equally reluctant to break the silence, interrupt the Zen, unravel from their cocoon.

So they just laid there for endless minutes. She didn’t even watch the clock. In the far recesses of her mind, yes, there was a sense of urgency to get her computer into her possession. The sooner they arrived at the ops campus, the sooner that would happen.

The prevailing issue was that, once they accomplished this, Nikki would have to make a decision on what came next.

That was hugely daunting.

Eventually, she had to pull her head out of the sand. They both did.

More lengthy minutes ticked by.

Damen was the first to rouse. His hands slid up to her neck and she maneuvered herself so that he could gently tug her toward him. He kissed her, then murmured, “Somewhere we have to be, Nik.”

“Right.”

She hated leaving his arms and his bed, but forced herself to slip from between the rumpled sheets. They showered and dressed. Nikki chose black leggings and suede ankle boots to pair with an oversized winter-white sweater with a drapey cowl neck. She added a long necklace—a gleaming obsidian stone in an oval shape, set in platinum.

She’d taken her wedding ring off almost a year ago, and refrained from wearing rings in general. A psychological manifestation she didn’t analyze at the moment. Rather, she finished with chandelier earrings and makeup, a light coat of lip gloss. She pulled her sleek hair up on the sides and secured the strands with clips.

Damen was waiting for her on the sofa, texting on his phone. He looked devilishly handsome in a black suit with a pewter-colored shirt. But in lieu of a tie, his button-down was opened at the neck. Her gaze fell on the very spot at the base of his throat that pulsated with life. The very spot she loved kissing and teasing with her tongue.

A little thrill ran through her.

The man was all kinds of tempting.

And as he stood and towered over her, she was all kinds of tempted to fall back into bed with him.

But they had crucial business to see to.

So she inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and said, “Guess it’s time to see what my future holds.”

29

Those ominous words lingered between them.

So that Nikki anxiously, nervously asked, “What if these guys don’t stop coming after me?”

Damen heard the ragged edge to Nikki’s voice. It was a valid concern, certainly. But he knew it was wrapped around more than just her own personal safety. She’d naturally be terrified of the potential threat against the people around her, the people closest to her; the very real possibility of them becoming casualties by association.

Damen’s team was already keeping an eye on Kate and Jude McMillan—newlyweds, Damen had recently learned. He hadn’t yet mentioned to Nikki that they were well-protected while they were in Mexico City, establishing temporary residency so that they could adopt one of the orphans from the explosion.

He had already considered that it might prove beneficial to have Nikki in close proximity to her friends, so they were all under the same surveillance from the ops team. But Damen preferred to keep her here with him. His house was safe. The campus was safe. And anyone who dared to come after her would have to go through him, first.

But what she was also inquiring, without blatantly saying it, was how would she continue her work if her life was in danger?

Damen really couldn’t quell her fears until he’d ascertained precisely what they were dealing with. He wouldn’t lie to her and tell her there was nothing to stress over. That wasn’t true in any sense. And they both knew it.

Nor would he feed into her fears.

So he brushed his fingertips over her cheek, leaned in and kissed her lips. Then he murmured, “Let’s cross one bridge at a time, hmm?”

Her eyelids squeezed shut for a moment. When they fluttered open, she countered with, “I’m more of a plotter. I like to know my course.”

“No, you’re not,” he playfully said, helping to cut some of the tension. “You bend and flex so that you end up exactly where you need to be, when you need to be there. Right now… You need to be with me. Finishing this piece of business before we tackle the next.”