Still, he had a job to do, and staying close to her was a significant part of getting that job done. He just had a very fine line to walk.
“Pushing me away isn’t going to keep either of us safe,” he told her. “Only closing ranks will do that.”
Concern crept into her gaze. She lowered her head, pressed her forehead against his chest, and heaved a troubled sigh. Her warm breath penetrated his shirt and sent tingles over his skin. If he didn’t move away from her now, he was going to take this too far.
He released her and turned toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry? It’s almost eight already. I can’t compete with Smoke, but I could make you…”
He opened his fridge and surveyed the contents—which didn’t take long. He had beer, milk, bread, and peanut butter.
Savannah came up behind him, set the file on the counter and slid her arms around his waist, pressing the front of her body to the back of his. She was warm and soft, and Ian breathed a moan as he slid his hand over her arm. “Sorry, baby, I don’t have much. All I can offer is a peanut butter sandwich.”
She laughed with her cheek pressed to his back. “Jamison would be thrilled.”
He closed the fridge and stroked her arms at his waist. “Want to try another restaurant closer
to home?”
“No,” she said on a sigh. “I’ve got exactly what I want right here.”
Ian closed his eyes and searched for strength. For the will to send her to his bed—alone. He hadn’t quite found it before she released him, moved to the counter, and lifted her butt to the edge beside the file folder. They still weren’t eye to eye, but she spread her thighs and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him into her. She locked her arms behind his neck, and Ian rested his forehead against hers, his hands gripping and releasing her waist.
“You’re amazing,” he said. “You know that?”
She huffed a laugh. “Pathetic is more like it.”
He shook his head and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Problems don’t make you pathetic. They either break you or strengthen you. And you’re one of the strongest women I know.”
“Thank you.” She searched his face, her expression open and curious. Her hands stroked down the front of his thermal, and her touch tingled over his skin. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to talk to a person who’s not under Hank’s control.”
Ian was seeing a whole lot of gray in this situation. All the black and white from his military days was gone, blending so seamlessly, the line of right and wrong disappeared. He knew what he’d been told to do. He knew what he wanted. Those, at least, meshed—get close to her, get her to confide in him. But there was another gray area that Ian could see becoming a problem as this mission came to an end. He’d lied to her, surveilled her, used her to get information on Hank.
He was thinking about all that when Savannah tilted her head and kissed him. God, her lips were sweet. Soft. Supple. Maybe getting one long, deep taste of her would quench his thirst temporarily. Maybe showing her some rough passion would give her second thoughts about crossing that line between friends and lovers.
He wrapped one arm low on her hips, pushed his other hand into her hair and held her head as he deepened the kiss. Savannah moaned and fisted his hair. The sound pushed Ian to the edge. He kissed her deeply, passionately, aggressively. Licked into her mouth while he rocked his erection into the apex of her thighs.
Instead of putting on the brakes, she met his passion and answered his lust with desire. That had backfired. Big time. Because the way she gave herself over to him short-circuited his brain.
She released his hair to fist the back of his thermal and pulled it over his head. Her hands stroked his back, his sides, his belly, lighting him on fire. Then they slid to the button of his jeans. This situation had just turned into a freight train, careening downhill with no brakes.
Ian broke the kiss. “Savann—”
“I want you,” she murmured as she pushed a hand into his open jeans and stroked his cotton-covered cock. “God, how I want you.”
Searing pleasure stole his words, his thoughts, his resistance. “Jesus Chri—”
She tilted her head and kissed him again, her mouth open and willing, begging him to respond. There was no right answer here. If he gave her what she wanted—what they both wanted—she’d hate him later. If he didn’t, she’d hate him now.
Later. Later was the better option here. Because maybe, just maybe, if Ian could deliver Savannah the kind of freedom she longed for and deserved right along with the hell the Bishops deserved, Ian’s betrayal might sting a little less.
He lifted her from the counter, and she wrapped her thighs around his hips, locked her arms around his neck, and kissed a path toward his ear. Fireworks shot across his skin as he navigated the hallway like a drunk.
In the bedroom, he pressed one knee to the bed and laid her back. He brushed her hair from her face. “I’ve wanted this from the first time your sassy mouth put me in my place.”
She reached for his pants again. “I’ll make sure to sass you more often.”
He caught her hand before she touched him and he lost it again, and pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. It was his turn to drag off some clothes.
Her jacket hit the floor first, then her sweatshirt. He flipped the clasp on her bra and pulled it from her arms, tossing everything aside. And when he refocused on Savannah, her hair was a tangled halo on his white sheets, her face flushed, her eyes heavy lidded and hot. Her breasts were just the right size to fill his hands. Her waist was small, her stomach flat, her skin smooth.