Nicolas never minded silences. At times he needed silence nearly as much as he needed solitude and to be outdoors surrounded by nature. Finding that Dahlia was very similar made him surprisingly happy and at peace, even in the midst of their situation. As they crossed the street, he could see the police cars up and down the block where the condo was. He leaned down. “Your enemies have someone watching all this. We need to spot him before he spots us.”
He halted abruptly, almost as the words came out of his mouth, pressing her back into a small alcove, shielding her with his larger, heavier frame. Nicolas allowed his pack to rest on the ground, just out of sight of the street. He placed one palm against the wall, effectively caging her in, his body language blatant, possessive, deliberately easy to read. He bent down toward her, looking every inch her lover. “He’s on the roof across the street, watching the cops. I don’t see any military personnel, but I feel them. Someone is nosing around trying to figure out what happened. We could find them, identify ourselves, and get you somewhere safe.”
Her face was pale. Small beads dampened her face around her hair. Her skin was hot to the touch. “I’d have to allow them to lock me up. I’m classified, and can’t just blurt this out to anyone. I have to get Jesse out before I turn myself in.”
“The NCIS have no idea what happened, Dahlia. They could very well be suspicious that you’re somehow involved. You have the brains to be behind something like this, and you’re different. Anything or anyone different is an easy target.”
“You sound worried that they’re going to try to kill me.” His fingertips were moving over her face, just brushing back and forth as if he enjoyed the texture of her skin. Dahlia felt the touch all the way to her toes. Deep inside where heat collected and pooled in her most feminine core, she felt her body clench strongly in reaction.
“I just want to know if you want out now, Dahlia. I can go after Calhoun myself.”
“While I’m nice and safe.” She was looking out from under his arm, searching for the man on the roof. “I don’t think so. This is my mess and I intend to clean it up. Don’t be fooled just because I get a little sick around people and violence. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He didn’t point out that he shot a man to keep her alive. “Can you see him? The blond on the roof?”
“Yes, he’s glanced this way a couple of times. He has a pair of binoculars.”
“Then we’d better give him something to look at.” He stepped closer, his body nearly touching hers, but not quite.
Dahlia instantly felt the temperature around them rise. “This is risky.”
“Kissing you?” He cupped her chin firmly, captured her gaze with his.
“You can’t kiss me, Nicolas.” Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid it might burst. His face was so perfect to her, etched in granite, the hard lines and planes that of a man, not a boy.
He bent his head slowly toward hers, holding her gaze.
He stopped when his lips were a mere breath away. When she could taste him. When her heart went from pounding to fluttering and her body began sizzling with electricity. “I think kissing you is a very good idea.”
She felt his words vibrate through her entire body. He didn’t actually need to kiss her for her mind to go into meltdown. It happened just thinking about kissing him. “You have such a great mouth, Nicolas. Tempting, you know? But lightning happens when we kiss. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves do we?”
“Is that a trick question? If I say no, does that mean I don’t get to kiss you? Because right now, kissing you seems the most important thing in the world.”
She loved the way his magic voice roughened and his eyes went from ice to a blaze when he looked at her. “Well, then, who am I to tell you to have good sense?” The words came out in a whisper. She could barely breathe with him so close to her. How was it possible to form a rational thought?