Stina looked around the common room again. It was definitely warmer and cozier. It was proof that two women could take a dead corner in an underground base and make it feel human.
But the man who might—or might not—have been watching her still sat in the back of her mind. And now she knew the danger had probably started long before she ever understood she was in it.
For the first time since she left the kitchen, she could breathe around the fear she’d been hiding.
Only a little.
For now, that would have to be enough.
TWELVE
Rome had been running on empty for the last six hours he’d spent holed up with O in the war room, digging up everything about John Hutchins they could find, only to come to the same conclusion.
John Hutchins was clean. The facial match really was a plant.
He stopped in the hall between his room and Stina’s. His was cracked open, and he swung toward it automatically. Settling his palm against his door, he pushed it open.
As soon as his gaze fell on his bed, his stomach squeezed.
Stina was in his bed again.
Something in his chest did a thing he didn’t have language to explain. He stood in the doorway for a long heartbeat and just looked at her, curled on her side.
If all he had was a few hours a night with her in his arms, he’d take it.
He set his gear down and sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. He’d shower. Let her sleep.
It wasn’t what his body craved, but it was a solid plan.
Then she stirred.
He stilled, feeling the mattress shifting under him.
He twisted to see her pushed onto one elbow, blinking at him through the dark, hair wild around her face. Her eyes were soft with sleep.
She looked completely undone and absolutely beautiful…and he was in so much trouble.
“You’re back.” Her voice was husky from sleep.
His gut clenched with desire. “Go back to sleep.”
She sat up the rest of the way, the blanket dropping to her waist. She swung her legs over the side of the bed to stand.
He watched her stand there in the dark looking at him.
She was quiet for a moment. Then she stepped forward, put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him.
It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t a question. It was warm and certain, and tasted like something he’d been thinking about forever.
With a groan, he kissed her back. Hands finding her waist, he pulled her closer.
She sighed into him as if her waiting was over.
With a growl, he bracketed her face with his hands and kissed her the way he’d wanted to for too many days to count. Each brush of his lips—stroke of his tongue—he pulled tiny moans from her while slowly sliding his hands under the hem of her top.
She made another sound that damn near snapped his control.
He drew back enough to look at her. Her eyes were dark and her full lips swollen from his kisses. The way she was looking at him—
