Kris DeLake - Spy to Die For

“You haven’t told me who you are yet, either,” he said in the most unthreatening tone he could muster.

Her smile changed. Her lips moved ever so slightly, so that the smile didn’t seem pleased, it seemed like it was tinged with an apology. He’d never seen anyone whose smallest expressions conveyed so much.

Or maybe he never noticed such things before.

“You know who I am,” she said. “I’m the woman you spent the night with.”

“I’d love to spend another night,” he said, stroking her hair.

“Me, too,” she said, and his heart actually leaped.

Then she rolled away from him, and got out of bed, all in one quick movement.

“Unfortunately, we agreed this was a one-time thing.”

And she, clearly, was going to enforce it.

He sighed. “We did. I enjoyed myself so much”—which was a hell of an understatement—“that I was hoping we could renegotiate.”

“Maybe,” she said, and that leaping feeling returned. “If we meet again on some other crappy space station.”

And the feeling fell away. He was more than disappointed. He felt… well, he didn’t want to think about how he felt. He would have to use words he never used, like heartbroken . He didn’t believe those words meant anything, especially to a man like him.

“Would you like the shower first?” she asked.

Normally, he would let her have it. After all, she was already out of bed. But he needed to get out of here. He couldn’t spend any more time with her, not if she hadn’t felt the way he had.

And she clearly hadn’t.

“Yes, I’ll experiment with that shower first,” he said, getting up slowly. He was sore, but in unexpected places. His elbows were scraped. The muscles on his thighs complained, probably from that unexpected joining near the couch, where his legs finally gave out.

He smiled at her, hoping the smile didn’t look as fake as it felt. Then he walked, back straight, to the bathroom, amazed at the effort it took not to grab her and hold her against him one last time.

Skye watched Jack walk around the bed. The top of his head brushed against the ceiling here as well, yet he was in perfect proportion. She wouldn’t have thought tall would be so appealing, and it was.

He was.

A shiver ran through her. She had been alone for her entire life, and she had just guaranteed that she would remain alone.

What would it cost to meet him occasionally on some space resort somewhere or in some hotel in an out-of-the-way city on some distant planet?

But she knew the answer to that. She had stayed awake most of the night thinking about it, and had finally dozed off maybe an hour or two before he woke her up again. Pleasantly. Sex had never been exciting and pleasant and addictive all at the same time.

The answer, she thought, forcing herself to concentrate, was that she had too many obligations to the Assassins Guild and had made too many enemies. She didn’t know who Jack was or who he worked for. He might actually be someone she should have avoided.

She hadn’t checked, and she wouldn’t. She would do her best to forget him when she left Krell later today.

It would take a hell of an effort, but she’d made hellish efforts before.

She could do it again.

The shower squealed on. He was more trusting than she was. She had actually tested that water for contaminants before stepping into it naked. The water had been remarkably clean, probably something else she was paying for in this hugely expensive suite.

She shivered again, then yanked a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. The problem wasn’t with the environmental controls. It was with her decision, and she knew it.

She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to see if she could make him as addicted to her as she already was to him.

And maybe he was. He had asked exactly what she had been thinking: he had asked to meet her again.

She had to say no. Maybe she would find him when she was no longer part of the Guild, but right now, she didn’t dare involve anyone else in it.

Especially someone she didn’t know.

She needed armor. She trailed around the bed and found the clothes she barely remembered discarding. She slipped them on, leaving the sheet crumpled on the floor.

Then she picked up his clothes and cradled them against her. They smelled like him, all warm and safe and sexy. She hadn’t realized just how erotic scents could be. Yet his was.

She made herself set the clothing on the side of the bed, then went into the living room so she wouldn’t see him naked again. She would say the coldest good-bye she could, and hope he wouldn’t give her that look again—the one that mixed desire with sadness. She had barely been able to stand up to it the first time.

She doubted she could stand up to it again.

Skye stood in the ticket line for transport off Krell. The line wound all the way around this part of the station, with people standing patiently. Everyone knew they’d have a seat, although she couldn’t say the same for folks who arrived much later.

She hated ticketing here. No early tickets because people would resell them and gouge whoever bought the seat. The transport companies had inflicted this policy on Krell, not the other way around, because too much forgery had happened and too many people ended up with matching tickets for the same seat.

She always forgot about this inconvenience until she waited in line. Usually she didn’t mind. The ticket station had food and drink vendors, entertainment vendors, and everything else she could think of. All kinds of music competed for her attention, and the air smelled strongly of beer and fried foods.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to any of that. Instead, she found herself looking at the door frames and ceiling, wondering if Jack could even stand in this area as long as she had. He would have to hunch.

And she would have to stop thinking about him.

Now.

Not that such internal commands had worked so far. She had barely allowed herself to look at him when they said good-bye in her suite. She had given him a cold smile, and a brief wave of the fingers, as if he hadn’t mattered to her at all, as if the time they shared hadn’t been the most amazing time in her entire life.

For his part, he hadn’t said another word about another meeting. Instead, he had smiled at her and thanked her for the shower. If he had thanked her for anything else, she would have come unglued.

She had no idea what he thought of her. Did he think she did this at every port with a different guy every time? And did it matter if he did think that way?

She tugged on the sleeves of her sweater. She had put it on, as well as a pair of leggings because she couldn’t get warm. Leaving him did send little shivers through her, and a hot shower hadn’t helped.

Nothing would help. She was letting a good man walk away from her, and she was doing it for all the right reasons.

Although she had no guarantee he was good except for that inexplicable sense she got about people, the way she could see right down to their core. She liked his core. She liked the parts jutting out of his core. She liked everything about him, including the way his eyes darkened when he had an orgasm. She wondered how many women had seen that.

And then she had to remind herself—sternly, forcefully—that it was none of her business.

Jack Hunter, whoever he was, was no longer someone she needed to concern herself with. He was already a memory, albeit a very, very, very good one.

She was so preoccupied she almost missed a familiar form skirting the transport line. The form belonged to Liora Olliver, one of the toughest, hardest assassins to go through the Guild.