Page 6 of Steel Vengeance
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
Her shoulders sagged. Was she that obvious?
“I don’t know why,” she said weakly. “My assignment is to watch and report back. That’s it.”
“They must have told you something,” he pushed.
“Just that he’s on a CIA watch list. I assumed it was terror related. He’s got ties to the Taliban.”
The intruder didn’t react, he merely watched her, his dark expression giving nothing away. Self-conscious, she pulled the towel tighter around her.
“You can get dressed now,” he said finally.
CHAPTER 4
Stitch watched as the CIA agent jumped off the bed and scooted toward the wardrobe, still clutching her towel. She may as well not have bothered. Her naked body was engraved behind his eyelids. Every time he closed them, he saw her.
Smooth skin, pink from her bath. Full breasts with dusky pink nipples. A dark patch of fuzzy pubic hair?—
God help him.
Then she turned around, burying in the closet.
He sucked in a breath. That gently swelling bottom. What the fuck was she playing at?
“Hurry up,” he growled.
Preventing her from getting dressed had been a tactic. He had her at her most vulnerable, ripe for interrogation. Yet, her nakedness was doing strange things to him. Things he hadn’t felt in a long time.
His strategy may just have backfired.
“Close your eyes,” she hissed, still fumbling. “You’re making me nervous.”
She wasn’t the only one.
And he couldn’t close his eyes. Not in enemy territory, even if he was the one holding the gun.
But he did look away. A neon sign from across the road came on and cast the floorboards and walls in a glowing red light.
It had been over a year since he’d seen a woman naked.
After Soraya… Well, he’d been in no fit state for any of that. Now, for the first time since his wife had passed, he felt the familiar stirrings of arousal. He wasn’t sure who wanted her to get dressed faster, him or her.
Once the gold slip of material fell over her head, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then, he saw how it clung to her curves, skimming over her breasts and hips, and molding against her crotch. She wasn’t wearing underwear. He groaned inwardly.
Goddamn. She was stunning.
Fucking awful agent, though, but an absolutely goddamned stunner.
“You call that clothing?” he rasped.
“It’s a nightgown. It’s all I could find at short notice.” She shot him an accusatory look.
He shook his head. “Okay, sit down.”
She perched at the end of the bed. Her dark hair hung in wet tendrils over her shoulders, dampening the flimsy material over her breasts. He could see her nipples jutting out, teasing him. His mouth went dry.
Averting his gaze, he resumed his seat by the window and placed the gun on his lap. It was loaded, he’d checked, not that he planned to use it. Interestingly, the barrel was threaded, which meant it was made for a silencer.