“Keep talking,” she says softly. “Gil changed?”
“He tracked down his birth father. The man wasbigin the Venezuelan terrorist network, theLoma Collectivo. He ran it for years. And when Gil found him, his father managed to convince him to turn on everything he’d ever known.”
“Oh, Austin.” Mikayla wriggles so she can meet my gaze in the flickering light, and what I see in her eyes makes me want to stop and lose myself in her. “What did he do?”
“He set a trap. For me. Made a call on an unencrypted line that gave us the information we needed to prove he was working for theLoma Collectivo. And then he sent me an email.”
“Why?”
I snort softly and bury my nose in her hair. “To get me to come for him.”
“He meant to torture you?” The horror in her voice mirrors my memories, and I nod.
“He had me for six days. Started small.” I shift our positions so she’s facing me, her legs draped over mine in the hot water. Taking her hand, I place her fingers over the thin, long-healed scars. “Shallow cuts. Painful, but not dangerous. Not fatal.”
“Crap.” Mik inches closer, and when she kisses one of the pale slashes, something in me shatters. “Austin, I’m so sorry.”
“Can’t change the past, sweetheart. And…all of this…it brought me to you. If all of Gil’s torture, all those hours, days, fearing I’d be the reason GilandTrevor died…if they led me here, to you… Maybe they were all worth it.”
Chapter Twenty
Mikayla
The water starts to cool, and Austin climbs out and wraps a towel around his waist before retrieving a second one for me. I can’t be sure, but I think he finally told me everything. The deep, haunted look in his eyes has faded slightly, an undercurrent of something akin to peace taking its place.
It’s surreal, standing next to this man, mostly naked, brushing our teeth like we’ve done this for months or even years, but it also feels right. Normal.
Until suddenly, we’re done and I’m staring at the bed like it’s both everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I fear at the same time. What if…what if I’mbadat this? I don’t exactly have a lot of experience to go on here.
“Do you want to go to sleep?” Austin asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind and pressing a kiss to my neck. “If you do…it’s okay. Nothing needs to happen tonight.”
I turn in his embrace, cup his neck, and pull him down for a kiss. Slowly, we inch towards the bed as our lips meet again and again, tremors of nerves and heat and intenseneedrocking my core. Emboldened by his hard length pressing against my stomach, I flick my tongue out, searching for his, and Austin groans as he lets me in.
Rough, calloused fingers slide under the towel to cup my ass, and there’s only a moment of fear, of uncertainty, before he lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“You say stop at any time…” he manages, but I shake my head.
“I want this, Austin. I want you.” Another kiss, this one so desperate, I feel it down to my toes, and I slide my fingers into his hair. He nips the corner of my mouth, then shifts my weight so he can pull back the sheet and blankets.
“Lights on or off, sweetheart?”
With no doubt in my mind—or my tone, I answer, “On.”
After he lays me down in the center of the bed, he turns to his pack, rummaging inside for a moment before retrieving a strip of condoms.
I use the moment to wriggle free from the towel, and the look on his face when he sees me…no one’s ever looked at me with such intensity before.Seenme like he does. And then he’s standing naked next to my bed, fully erect, and my God. It takes me three tries to form words, and when I do…
“You’re… You won’t fit. All that…” I wave my hand at him, still gaping, equal parts terrified and more turned on than I’ve ever been. He moved so quickly getting into the tub, I didn’t fully appreciate…him. The way all those muscles taper into a narrow waist, thevthat leads down to short, dark curls and all that hard length.
“I’ll fit, sweetheart. Promise.” With a reassuring smile, Austin climbs into bed with me, then eases me against his side. “But you’re going to come at least once before we get to that part.”
Long, languid kisses have my insides melting into goo, and his hands. Oh, God. His hands. Fingers playing over my breasts, little pinches to my nipples that send zings of pleasure straight to my core, gentle caresses along my hip, my inner thighs.
And his words.
“You’re perfect. So perfect. So soft and strong at the same time.” Every time he does something new, kisses me in a place no one’s ever kissed before, he flicks his gaze to mine, asking for permission, watching my expression.
“No one’s ever…made me feel like this before,” I say, almost panting as his fingers stroke closer and closer to my clit. To where I desperately need him to be.
