Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,39

“You went running?”

“Yes. It helps me to sleep, and I need to keep up with my fitness. You have to agree with that.”

“I do, as someone who’s getting hours and hours of fitness.” His voice was deep and sure, and just hearing it made her feel weak inside. She’d been churning along for some time now, going on sheer will and hatred. But a night with Hemingway had been a more emotionally involving, sexually intimate experience than the whole of her sexually active life. She’d had no idea what she’d been missing and had been fulfilled by a man who was still nothing more than a stranger. She hated to think it, but that description of the world stopping could be the only way to describe what it was like with him.

She pushed the shower curtain back and smiled. “I’m not even going to give you a hard time about complaining.” She was happy that she didn’t sound half as breathless as she felt.

“I’m not complaining. Just stating a fact.” He grinned, drew closer and her breath got trapped in her chest at his nearness. Damn, she liked this guy so much. Maybe too much. She pushed those thoughts away along with the uneasiness. Temporary situation, temporary relationship. Everything always changed.

“Steamy and hot in there?” he said, pulling off his T-shirt. “I don’t think I ever knew what cold was until I started this training. Care to share some of that heat, babe?”

“Yes, and yes,” she whispered.

He shucked his jeans, underwear and socks. Strong arms came around her, his big body pushing into the shower as the cascading water soaked him.

“I can’t seem to get warm.”

“Didn’t they let you take a hot shower, the barbarians.”

He chuckled at her biting tone. “Yes, they let us take a shower, but I think I need another one.”

“Oh, did you get dirty between the base and here?” She ran her hand up his smooth, water-slicked back, his chest glazing her achingly tight and sensitive nipples. Her thoughts splintered rapidly as his warm lips closed over one of those aching tips. She gasped and arched into him, the exquisite sensation spearing through her, shredding her, leaving her wordless as well as senseless.

“Oh, so dirty,” Hemingway whispered, his touch caressing as he smoothed his hand up her back. She knew he wasn’t talking about physically dirty, but his mind went to what they had shared in this short, mutual like affair. She had no idea what was wrong with her. She had taken her own physical satisfaction down to a science. Meeting her needs had been easy for the most part. Playing hard to get was only part of the fun, flirty battle. But with Hemingway, all her rules, plans, and what she knew about herself seemed to get chucked out the window.

Fighting to hold back her emotions for him, to keep herself grounded—a battle she intended to win—she moved deeper into his embrace, and that fierce surge of emotion burst its bonds. Her hands splayed across the taut muscles of his back, and she pressed her face against his neck, working on keeping her knees locked. Trying with all her might to keep from trembling was futile.

The heated water spilled across her naked torso, beating her aching nipples, sliding across her skin, drenching his short hair to drip off his jaw.

She was demanding and pushy, and operated strictly by her own rules, which was certainly what had gotten her where she was in her career, at the top of the sought-out undercover operators, their go-to girl.

“Well, I guess you can share my shower if I get something in return.”

“Oh. Tit for tat is it?”

She chuckled, thinking tits would definitely be involved. “Or maybe dickering.” Without having to explain it, he chuckled too.

Catching her by the back of the head, he kissed the curve of her neck. “All of this talk is making me hot. You are a very bad girl,” he murmured huskily. “What can I provide? I do always carry my own weight.” Pulling her against him, he left a trail of kisses on her moist skin, tasting the dampness of her shoulder.

She closed her eyes, sinking into the sensations he set off in her. Smoothing her hand up his rib cage, she arched her head back, giving him access to the side of her neck, the moist brush of his mouth sending a shiver of fire and ice along her nerve endings. Catching her around the hips, he pulled her against him, molding