Lib Novel Page 51
Abby’s eyes reflected a glint of approval, and for a moment, I saw the agent in her more than the woman I couldn’t stop wanting. “We’ll go looking for them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed, feeling the weight of the impending day. It was a lead, a step closer to the truth, but it also meant facing the possibility that Alex, and maybe even Knuckles, weren’t the men I thought they were. The family I fought to protect could be the very one unraveling at the seams.
“Get some rest, Nathan,” Abby said softly, her hand lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re going to need it.”
Rest. The concept seemed as foreign as trust these days. But she was right. Tomorrow would come, and with it, a journey into a web of loyalties and lies.
And I had to be ready for whatever we found.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Abby
The stench of smoke still clung to our clothes, a harsh reminder of the chaos earlier that evening. We moved upstairs in unspoken agreement, the ritual of preparing for bed now as familiar and worn as the steps beneath our feet.
Nathan’s movements were mechanical, peeling off his own smoke-tainted clothes with mechanical precision. His black hair lay matted against his forehead, damp from sweat or maybe the night air. It was getting harder to tell these days, as summer shifted into fall and the air grew damp with fog.
“Shower?” His voice cut through the silence, slicing into the new normal we’d built, brick by bloody brick. His question was simple enough, but it hung heavy between us.
My pulse quickened, a response that betrayed my surprise. Nathan wasn’t one for small talk or unnecessary questions. The kitchen episode had changed something, shifted the axis of our strange existence. I studied him for a moment, looking for the man who could snap bones as easily as stems, wondering what was going through his mind. But his gaze didn’t meet mine; instead, it was fixed on some distant point, somewhere past me.
There was something about his offer—so mundane yet charged with the unsaid. It felt like a peace offering, a bridge over the chasm that had opened up between us. Or maybe it was a lifeline, thrown out to pull us back from the brink. My voice was steady, a contrast to the hammering in my chest, as I responded with a simple, “Okay.”
Nathan nodded, the simple motion heavy with things unsaid. He turned on his heel, the dragon inked into his skin shifting with every movement—a silent guardian over muscles that had tensed and untensed in countless fights—a testament to his life etched in ink and scars.
He disappeared behind the door, leaving me alone with the ghostly echo of his steps. I hesitated only a moment, listening to the water begin its cascade. I shed my jewelry piece by piece, the metallic clinks tiny proclamations of my resolve. My clothes followed, each garment slipping away like layers of pretense until I stood bare.
The steam slipped beneath the door, carrying with it the muffled patter of water. I approached, my hand pausing on the cool wood before pushing it open. The sight that greeted me was nothing like the poised, dangerous man I knew in public. Nathan stood with his hands braced against the wall, the water pouring over him, turning his skin a glistening bronze. Each slow breath he drew seemed to fight against an invisible weight, and even without saying a word, I could tell—the man before me was drowning in air.
I stepped inside, drawn by an unseen force, my feet finding the wet tile as I closed the distance. The heat enveloped me, the steam clinging to my skin like a whisper. Nathan didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge my presence with anything more than the subtle shift in his breathing. But I sensed him reaching out, spoken in his strained muscles and taut lines.
“Abby,” he said, and my name sounded like a prayer on his lips.
My hands found him, wrapping around his solid frame from behind. The contrast of our naked bodies merging under the cascade of hot water sent a jolt of electricity through me.
I traced the familiar lines of his dragon tattoo, its intricate scales etched across his left side—a testament to his strength and the burdens he carried. My fingers roamed over his abs, up to his chest.
Nathan finally turned, his movements deliberate, and wrapped me in his embrace. His chin found the top of my head, a gentle weight that spoke volumes. Pressed against his broad chest, I could hear the steady throb of his heart—an echo of my own. This proximity wasn’t new to us, but the stillness between us was unfamiliar—intimate in a way that transcended physical desire.
He wasn’t hard, and the realization struck me with a curious blend of relief and concern. It might have been the first time we’d been this close without an immediate urgency for carnal fulfillment. In that suspended moment, our shared silence became a fragile truce, the absence of his usual heat a question hanging in the steam-filled air.
“Abby,” he began, without any of the bravado or menace that others knew him for. His voice was a frayed thread, holding on to the last vestiges of control. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.” He paused, almost flinching as he confessed, “It’s like the walls are closing in, and there’s no safe haven left—not even in my own head.”
My hand stilled over his dragon tattoo, and I looked up at him. Without a word, I pressed my lips against the inked depiction of the beast over his heart. It was a silent promise, an offering of peace.
“You can trust me,” I whispered against his skin, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat against my mouth. “Even if you think you can’t, Nathan. I’m here.”
He could have pushed me away.
He didn’t.
His fingers tightened around me, not with possession or need, but with something akin to gratitude. For a long moment, we stayed like that, the only sound the hiss of water cascading down around us. His body tensed, then relaxed incrementally as he reached for me–soft, not demanding.
Nathan’s hand was firm on my jaw, his thumb brushing over my skin with an unexpected gentleness. His eyes, deep and searching, fixed on mine with an intensity that made the rest of the world fade away.
I held my breath for a second, half-expecting him to close the space between us with a kiss—a kiss I wasn’t sure I was ready to resist. But instead, his voice broke through the sound of falling water, low and laced with an undercurrent of something dangerous.
“Abby,” he said, his grip on my chin tightening just enough to remind me who he was. “Tell me about your meeting with the FBI.”
I exhaled slowly, steadying myself against the wave of emotions his touch stirred within me. He had always been good at catching me off-guard, but I wasn’t some green recruit fresh out of Quantico anymore. I was an agent on a mission, and I couldn’t afford to forget it—not even for him.