“You need anything right now?” Todd asked.
“Just to figure out the next step.” His gaze strayed to the bedroom door. “And get some sleep.” Preferably next to Emma.
Emma woke abruptly in a strange room, a pale slit of light cutting across the wall in front of her. According to the alarm clock on the nightstand, it was just after six in the morning.
The last thing she remembered was lying across the large bed’s plush comforter and closing her eyes, listening to the soothing rumble of Jason and Todd’s voices just outside the door. She’d intended to rest for a minute and then join them.
Now she was under the covers, still fully dressed except for her shoes, her elbow sinking into the gap between the twin mattresses housekeeping had pushed together to make a king-sized bed. Had Jason tucked her in, or had she done it herself?
Not remembering made her uneasy, but a quick mental inventory of her body didn’t reveal any worrisome symptoms. Fatigue, sure, but that wasn’t surprising given yesterday’s emotional toll, and that she’d only slept about four hours out of the last twenty-four.
She sat up and looked over to where Jason lay on the far side of the bed, facing away, a hulking shadow in the dark room, his shape softened by the down comforter. Something inside her did a slow twirl. She ached to reach out, run her hands down his broad back, over his carved glutes, around to his flat stomach.
Instead, she carefully slid out from under the covers to use the bathroom, swish with the free mouthwash, and wash her face. However she’d gotten into bed, she still wore her clothes and makeup and the blond wig, which had come half off her head and now looked like roadkill.
Removing it, she finger-combed her hair, sighing with relief. As much as she craved more sleep, her brain had lit up with unanswered questions and half-formed plans. What she really needed was a shower.
Three minutes later she stood under the water, letting the hot spray loosen her muscles as she soaped up. She took her time, washing her hair with the hotel’s flower-scented shampoo and conditioner. Staying here was far better than the dingy apartment in the Altstadt, with its cramped, moldy bathroom.
Natalie would be—
Oh, God. For the briefest moment, she’d forgotten. And then it all came crashing down on her like the water on her back. The men in the condo, the blood on Nat’s chest, her brave face as Emma and Jason left her to die…
A sob burst from Emma’s lips. Her knees buckled, and she hit the tile with a bruising thud that made her gasp.“Fuck,”she said on a harsh whisper. She couldn’t lose control. Not here, not like this. Sitting back against the cool wall, she curled around her bent knees and gripped her legs in a desperate attempt to hold herself together. If only she could corral her rampant emotions as easily.
The tears flowed unchecked and she gasped for breath, her jaw tight, a headache flaring behind her tightly closed eyes. She let the hot water rain down on her left side, unable to take a deep breath as all the emotions she’d been holding in since Viktor’s shooting were ripped out of her in desperate, uncontrollable sobs.
Hadn’t Jason warned her that the feelings would eventually break through “like a weed through concrete?” More like a hand grenade.Jesus.
“Emma?” Jason’s deep voice made her jump in surprise. “Shit. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
The click of the glass door being opened was followed by a faint squeak of the shower faucet. Water stopped pummeling her side and she shivered as gentle hands draped a fluffy towel around her naked body. Unable to stop the wracking shudders as grief and fear poured from her soul, and too tired to fight, she let Jason lift her in his strong arms.
His body was warm and solid, and despite her mortification at falling apart so completely, she shamelessly burrowed into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest.
“Shhh.” He sat on something—the edge of the tub maybe—and wrapped himself around her, gently drying her hair one-handed with another towel before tucking her head beneath his chin and stroking her arm and shoulder through the terrycloth. “I’ve got you.”
She cried into his shirt until her tears ran dry, his touch and the warm vanilla scent of him easing her into a boneless stupor. When was the last time she’d been held, comforted so completely? Outside of her work friendships, she had little honest contact with anyone, even her own family.
As she calmed, she became acutely aware of Jason’s thick thighs beneath her buttocks and feet, his strong arms banded around her back and under her knees, his fingers softly stroking the skin of her shoulder. A deep craving rose in her, and she wriggled her head until he raised his own. She wiped her face on the towel before meeting his gaze.
He’d removed his wig too, and his brown eyes were impossibly dark as he stared down at her, his expression both solemn and…aware. Swallowing hard, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek, rubbing the stubble at his jawline with her thumb, her stomach spinning like a carousel.
She wanted to kiss him. Not to manipulate him, or hide from killers, or blend into a crowded bar, but for the pure joy of the act itself. The pure joy ofhim.
Stroking her fingers into the tight curls on the back of his head, she felt his muscles tense as she urged him closer, but he didn’t pull away.
“Emma.” His breath hitched as he brushed his lips across hers, sampling her top lip, then her bottom, his hands spreading wide as if to touch more of her.
Oxygen was hard-won as they consumed each other, lighting a fire in her blood and feeding a restlessness she couldn’t quell. He made a noise of protest when she pushed against his arms, but he loosened his hold enough to keep her steady as she slid off his lap to stand in front of him gathering the top corners of the towel between her breasts.
He sat on the edge of the wide tub in a white crewneck undershirt that molded itself to his sculpted chest, and red-plaid boxers that revealed the angry scars and a fresh bruise on his left leg. His lips were soft and wet and his chest rose and fell quickly as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes, hands gripping the porcelain. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ragged. “That wasn’t my intention when—”
Emma dropped the towel.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
