proposed. Or like he’d professed his undying love for her.
He’d been very clear that he was having sex with her to get her out of his system. It didn’t get less romantic than that.
“Take care of yourself, Maren,” he said.
“Always,” she said, echoing his cocky response.
He touched her cheek and then rose as she pulled the sheets higher up her body. He looked down at her a long moment and then his lips firmed, almost as if he were resolving to leave. Then he turned and strode out of her bedroom. In the distance she heard her door open and close and then silence descended until she could hear every creak, every little noise outside her windows.
She closed her eyes and rolled into the space Steele had occupied. It was still warm from his body heat. It still smelled of him. She buried her face in the pillow where he’d rested his head and inhaled deeply.
It had been the best and worst night of her life.
The best in that she’d never had sex with a man who equaled Steele. She never would.
The worst in that it only clearly outlined everything she’d never have.
Sometimes it was better not to ever live the fantasy. Because when reality descended, it outlined in stark detail just how much the real world sucked. The whole adage about how it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Complete BS.
In this regard, it was likely far better to have never had scorching-the-sheets sex with Steele than to have had it, tasted it and know she’d never have it again.
She closed her eyes, knowing she really needed to get up, shower and head to the clinic. The locals would be stirring and waiting for her to open. She faced another day just like all the other days. Illness, broken bones, minor injuries, checkups and cuts and wounds to stitch.
Another day in paradise.
The problem with that was that she’d spent the night in paradise. Now she faced the drudgery of her normal life. And now that she’d had a taste of utter perfection, the reality waiting for her was depressing as hell.
CHAPTER 7
THE KGI teams, all three of them, gathered in the war room of the Kelly compound for the post-mission report. Now that Christina Westlake had been delivered safely to her family and his own team had gotten the care they needed, Sam had called a meeting to get the rundown on the clusterfuck that was the extrication of Christina Westlake from the hands of Matteo Garza. Ten days had passed, but the mission still occupied Steele’s thoughts, and not because it hadn’t gone exactly as planned. It had everything to do with Maren and the unforgettable night they’d spent together.
Using that night to get her out of his system? Hell, she was further under his skin than ever. He couldn’t sleep, because she was there as soon as he closed his eyes. Her scent, the way she’d felt against him. The way it had felt when he’d slid into the tight clasp of her body.
He shook off thoughts of her—she was more of a distraction than ever—and took in the other occupants of the room. He surveyed the newest team with a keen eye. He had a lot invested in them. He’d been responsible for the majority of their training while his team had been on “administrative leave” for several months.
They were good. They had a long way to go, but they were led by the youngest of the Kelly brothers, Joe and Nathan. Twins who’d served in the army until recently. Both had been discharged under less-than-ideal conditions. Joe had been injured but had returned home to heal. Nathan, however, had been kept a prisoner and tortured for months. His journey home had taken much longer and had come about in a highly unorthodox—and unbelievable—manner. Shea—now his wife—was a telepathic empath who’d reached out to him in his darkest hour and had saved him. Literally.
It was still hard for Steele to wrap his head around, but he’d witnessed the extraordinary abilities of Shea firsthand. He knew it wasn’t bullshit. Just
He’d been very clear that he was having sex with her to get her out of his system. It didn’t get less romantic than that.
“Take care of yourself, Maren,” he said.
“Always,” she said, echoing his cocky response.
He touched her cheek and then rose as she pulled the sheets higher up her body. He looked down at her a long moment and then his lips firmed, almost as if he were resolving to leave. Then he turned and strode out of her bedroom. In the distance she heard her door open and close and then silence descended until she could hear every creak, every little noise outside her windows.
She closed her eyes and rolled into the space Steele had occupied. It was still warm from his body heat. It still smelled of him. She buried her face in the pillow where he’d rested his head and inhaled deeply.
It had been the best and worst night of her life.
The best in that she’d never had sex with a man who equaled Steele. She never would.
The worst in that it only clearly outlined everything she’d never have.
Sometimes it was better not to ever live the fantasy. Because when reality descended, it outlined in stark detail just how much the real world sucked. The whole adage about how it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Complete BS.
In this regard, it was likely far better to have never had scorching-the-sheets sex with Steele than to have had it, tasted it and know she’d never have it again.
She closed her eyes, knowing she really needed to get up, shower and head to the clinic. The locals would be stirring and waiting for her to open. She faced another day just like all the other days. Illness, broken bones, minor injuries, checkups and cuts and wounds to stitch.
Another day in paradise.
The problem with that was that she’d spent the night in paradise. Now she faced the drudgery of her normal life. And now that she’d had a taste of utter perfection, the reality waiting for her was depressing as hell.
CHAPTER 7
THE KGI teams, all three of them, gathered in the war room of the Kelly compound for the post-mission report. Now that Christina Westlake had been delivered safely to her family and his own team had gotten the care they needed, Sam had called a meeting to get the rundown on the clusterfuck that was the extrication of Christina Westlake from the hands of Matteo Garza. Ten days had passed, but the mission still occupied Steele’s thoughts, and not because it hadn’t gone exactly as planned. It had everything to do with Maren and the unforgettable night they’d spent together.
Using that night to get her out of his system? Hell, she was further under his skin than ever. He couldn’t sleep, because she was there as soon as he closed his eyes. Her scent, the way she’d felt against him. The way it had felt when he’d slid into the tight clasp of her body.
He shook off thoughts of her—she was more of a distraction than ever—and took in the other occupants of the room. He surveyed the newest team with a keen eye. He had a lot invested in them. He’d been responsible for the majority of their training while his team had been on “administrative leave” for several months.
They were good. They had a long way to go, but they were led by the youngest of the Kelly brothers, Joe and Nathan. Twins who’d served in the army until recently. Both had been discharged under less-than-ideal conditions. Joe had been injured but had returned home to heal. Nathan, however, had been kept a prisoner and tortured for months. His journey home had taken much longer and had come about in a highly unorthodox—and unbelievable—manner. Shea—now his wife—was a telepathic empath who’d reached out to him in his darkest hour and had saved him. Literally.
It was still hard for Steele to wrap his head around, but he’d witnessed the extraordinary abilities of Shea firsthand. He knew it wasn’t bullshit. Just
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