Body of Trust - Jeannine Colette Page 0,38

lay a hand over his heart, feeling the pounding under his skin.

The curve of his brow relaxes as he smiles. It’s a gorgeous smile, sexier and more glorious than anything I’ve ever seen.

I could fall in love with that smile.

He kisses my lips. We stay connected, kissing and touching as our orgasms grow more intense. I come in his arms, and he, inside of me.

Our problems haven’t gone away, but for tonight, they’re forgotten.

Chapter Ten

I wake up, feeling the most rested I’ve been in a week. My naked body reminds me of last night, and I smile, thinking about it. The bed is empty, but the sound of music from the kitchen and the clanging of pots lets me know that Jesse is still here. At least, I hope it’s him and not some rogue intruder.

Wrapping the sheet around my body, I pad to the kitchen.

Jesse is dressed in his clothes from last night. His hair is messy, making him look younger. He’s whisking eggs and humming along to music coming from Alexa. It’s a rap song, which surprises me.

His back is to the counter, so I get to appreciate him from the side. He really is a good specimen of a man. Tall, built, and ridiculously hot. I always thought he was handsome, beautiful even. After last night, I’m a bona fide groupie when it comes to the Jesse fan club.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks without physically acknowledging my presence.

“There’s no sneaking up on you, huh?”

“Not when you’re in my profession. Plus, you’re like a cloud of white. Hard to miss in my peripheral.” He looks over and winks.

I tug the sheet closer to my body and smile. “I was eager to see what all the noise was in here.”

He turns on the burner on the stove and heats up a pan. “I was planning on making my girl breakfast in bed.” He hesitates for a moment, making me wonder if he meant to use the endearing term.

As he pours the eggs into a pan, I lean against the wall. “You’re sweet for a cop. God, I can’t get used to that. Davenport.” His real name sounds so foreign.

“That’s me.”

“So, you’re Officer Jesse Davenport.”

“Special Agent Jesse Robert Davenport,” he corrects me with a pointed spatula.

Cops and robbers is the new theme to my life. Which makes me think … “Oh, shit, wait. What if this place is bugged?”

“It’s not. I swept it.”

“Oh. Okay.” I bite my lip as I think about how strange that is for me yet commonplace for him. “Are you worried about anyone following you here?”

“I am, but I’m careful. I never park in the same spot, and I always use the service entrance.”

“We were friendly when you were undercover. It wouldn’t be crazy if we were dating. I mean, if Jesse Grant and I were dating.”

“The heiress and the bartender?” he jokes, but I don’t find it amusing.

“Your status never mattered to me. I would have been honored if you’d asked me out.”

He turns to me with a softened expression. “I know it didn’t bother you. It’s why I liked you the moment I met you. But it’s not that simple now. With someone working as a traitor to the FBI, we have to tread lightly. My presence in your life or your family’s needs to be minimal, or I’ll be marked.”

I take a heavy breath as I take in this new way of life. “If you’re sure, then that’s how it needs to be. But if anyone says anything about seeing us together, I’ll guard your secret.”

“I know you will.” He grins as he resumes cooking.

“So, Grant was a cover, but Jesse is your real name?” I ask.

He nods as he adds peppers and tomatoes to the omelet. I smile at the sight.

“You seem happy about that.”

I blink at his comment, realizing I am smiling but not about his name. “No, I was just watching you make the eggs, and they’re exactly how I like my omelets.”

“I know,” he says easily.

I’ve only had breakfast at Villa Russo a handful of times over the past year. The fact that he remembers how I like my eggs is endearing.

I lift a hand to my cheek, which I’m sure is red from blushing, and get back to our conversation. “Why not take a fake first name too?”

The smile that graces his face is a mix of humor and awkwardness as he runs a hand over his eyes for a second. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. Okay,