“Anything.”He didn’t bother to try to hide the way his voice caught on the single word.
Her eyes widened, but she still didn’t step back.“I was talking to Catherine,” she began, cautiously.“And she said that you’d never… never trained anyone before.A neophyte.”
“That’s right.”Goddammit, Cath, if you’ve screwed this up for me I’ll tan your hide.
“She also said that you disobeyed orders to rescue me.That you should have gotten out of there and waited to see what the… the Sigs would do.”Her lip curled unconsciously.She was well on her way to hating Sigma.
“Henderson ordered me to get out of there.”I swear to God, Catherine White, if you’ve shot your big mouth off and made this harder I’ll kick your little punk ass.
“And you said you weren’t leaving without me?”
“That’s right.”Now was the time to move another half-step closer and look down at her.She smelled fresh and clean, shampoo and soap and the cool fragrance of a woman, something pure he hadn’t smelled in a long, long time.
Likeforever.
“Why?”Tilting her head back to look at him.A high hard blush on her cheeks.
Now was the time to tell her.“I couldn’t stand the thought of them hurting you.”Very quietly.“I had to get you out of there.Your father and Hilary too.I had to… I couldn’t leave you behind.”
“Oh.”Her eyes filled with tears again.
“Rowan—”
The sudden buzzing noise surprised them both.Oh, fuck.The worst possible time.
“It’s from Central.”He fished the cell phone out of his pocket.Dammit.
Then, decisively, he actually turned the phone off.
Rowan gasped.She knew enough to tell he shouldn’t do that—if Central was buzzing him instead of sending someone or just paging through the public areas, it was serious.
The moment was spoiled, but Delgado stepped close to her, looking down into her upturned face.“I don’t want you hurt,” he managed.
She blinked, as if he’d just spoken in a foreign language.“Hurt?”But she was reaching up, and when her hands slid around his neck and pulled his head down he didn’t resist her.
Their mouths met.A jolt of spurred fire lanced through him.She was so soft, and the trickling, crackling sugar-glaze of her talent closed around him, drawing him close—and shetouchedhim, too.The surface of his mind turned still and dark, that feeling of peace flooding him.
This is home.This is where I belong.
He barely realized that he had her against the wall, her hands locked at his nape, her slender body pressed against his.He could barely remember where he was,whohe was.
The only thing that mattered was thatshewas there—and her mind opened to his, receptive as a flower.
For the first time,ever, it didn’t hurt to use his talent.No feedback squeal of abused nerves and a brutally torn-open mind.Instead, he drowned in what she was feeling—a tidal wash of something clean and hot, his hands under her sweater, describing the shape of her, calluses scraping against her bare soft skin.He sank into her like a drowning man slipping under the surface of a placid lake, and blessed relief swamped him.
The doorbell and the sound of pounding alerted him.He surfaced reluctantly, breathing heavily, his forehead damp from sweat.Rowan blinked up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded and luminous.
“Someone’s at the door,” she whispered, and he had to kiss her again, the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and would have taken her mouth again if she hadn’t turned her head slightly.“Justin?”she added.
His body twitched all the way through.He wanted her badly.
He wanted hernow.
“Someone’s at the door,” she repeated breathlessly.
“Too bad,” he whispered back.“They can wait.”
She laughed, fingers pressing his nape, working a small, soothing tattoo into the flesh.“You can’t do that.Your phone, too.You’re on call.”
