A Little Something Extra

She flattened her palm against his chest, over the soft thudding of his heart, and felt his heat sear her fingers. “Benson Security can help you.”

“I don’t need any help. Everything is fine.”

“Do you have to lie to me?”

“Ellie, you think I’m a spy. Why would you expect me to tell the truth?”

He had a point. “I won’t search for you anymore, on one condition.”

“I like how you think you can negotiate with me. It’s cute.”

Elle rolled her eyes. They both knew she would eventually dig up every piece of information there was on him. It was just a matte

r of time. “If you promise to contact Benson Security, and let us help you if things get too hot to handle, I’ll stop searching.”

He leaned forward, pressing their bodies together until all she could feel was his heat at her front and the cool hard wall at her back. His nose trailed up her throat until his lips were at her ear. “Your logic is off, Ellie. You know I’m a liar, so why would you believe any promise I made?”

Elle wasn’t sure why she knew he’d keep his word to her, maybe it was just wishful thinking, but she was certain he would. “Give me your word.”

“Fine.” He breathed out over the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “You have my word. If I need help, I’ll contact Benson Security.”

“You’ll contact me.” She wanted to make that clear.

He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. “I’ll contact you,” he whispered.

And somehow his words felt like a promise to do far more than simply get in touch.

“Then I’ll stop searching.” At least she would try, because he was her obsession now, and it wouldn’t be easy to quit doing something that consumed her.

“Tell me something,” he said as he leaned back to look at her. “Do you still dream about me?”

“That night was an anomaly.” As was every single night since. The man invaded her dreams, each one hotter than the last. She burned for him now. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Not unless he decided to stop running from her, because she was convinced that was exactly what he was doing.

“So, you still dream about me.” He sounded entirely too smug for her liking, but before she could tell him he was fooling himself, he kept talking. “I like this color.” He stroked her hair. “It goes with your eyes. I like this pink dress too. You look like a fifties pin-up girl. A glamorous housewife. You should be in a kitchen somewhere, with a lace-edged apron, baking cookies for an army of kids before your husband comes home and sweeps you off your feet.”

“Interesting fantasy you have there.” Elle’s eyes strayed to his lips as she remembered the kiss they’d shared, the same night he’d cuffed her to the bed. “A tad sexist and archaic for me though.”

“Really?” His eyebrow cocked, and his smile stole the air from her lungs. “You don’t like role play? I’ll have to change your mind on that.”

Yes, please! She blinked at him. “How about you play the stay-at-home husband? You can bake me some cookies, and when I’m done working, I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

He closed the distance between them until his lips were a hair’s breadth from hers. “That works for me too.”

“You drive me crazy,” she whispered.

“Oh, you have no idea just how crazy I could make you.” And then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was slow and sensual, stealing her sense of self-preservation with each delicious taste of him. She curled her fingers into his black tee and held on while her world spun out of control. This was what she remembered, what she dreamed about, what she longed for. When he slowly pulled away from her, her lips chased after his until she stood on tiptoe before him.

“Later, beautiful girl.” He swept her hair from her face. “That is a promise.”

And then he was gone, moving fast, blending into the night as he was swallowed up by the crowd. Leaving Elle, dazed and alone in the alley. With a trembling hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips. Who knew what trouble he was in, or when she’d see him again. And now, she didn’t even have her searches for him to keep her occupied until his return. If he returned this time. Because every instinct she had screamed to her that he was in way more trouble than he’d let on. Stubborn, infuriating man-of-mystery. Too damned macho to ask for help.

With a huff of irritation, she yanked her bag onto her shoulder, then stilled.

Her laptop!

He’d stolen her life.