His eyes were too perceptive. “I think I know you better than most after last night and today. You’ve said far too much for me to ever believe you don’t need an emotional connection.”
“We have an emotional connection, Chase. You just proved that with what you said. You know me. I know you. Nobody said it had to be love.”
He stared at her for a long moment—and then he swore. He jerked the car into gear and reversed out of the parking spot before jamming the gas and heading back onto the highway.
They rode in silence the rest of the way to the airport. She stared out the window, her eyes and throat burning as she tried to process what had just happened between them. He’d kissed her. Kissed her so sweetly she’d wanted to cry.
And she’d wanted more. She thought he did too. But clearly there were more important things at work here. Grigori wasn’t going away because she wished him to. He hung over her head like a malevolent cloud, threatening and malicious.
The highway grew more crowded with traffic the closer they got to BWI. Finally Chase pulled into long-term parking and shut off the engine. They got the bags and started toward the terminal.
“Hold on,” Sophie said and Chase stopped. “You’ve got, uh, red lipstick…”
“Shit.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. It came away red.
“Here, I have wipes.”
She rummaged in the purse she’d bought at Walmart and came up with the pack of makeup removal wipes. He was glaring at her, but she ripped one from the package and handed it to him. He scrubbed it over his mouth and then looked at her in question.
“You got it all,” she said.
He wiped the back of his hand and then started walking again, tossing the wipe in a trash can as they passed. They found the Delta counter, checked in, and then passed through security. Her heart beat hard the whole time. She didn’t have any problem remembering that her name was Beth Chandler or that Chase was supposed to be her new husband Nathan.
But she worried that Grigori’s men were around every corner. They’d found her so quickly when she’d gone to Chase’s house that she kept expecting them to pop up at any moment. She told herself she looked different with dark hair, fashion glasses, and the cherry-red lips she’d fixed after Chase kissed her lipstick off.
And oh, remembering that moment was pretty much all she could do. The heat and passion, the fury and fire. He’d kissed her sweetly but hungrily. She’d wanted more. So much more.
She glanced at Chase as they walked through the terminal. He was huge, muscular, and intense. Her heart flipped at the sight of him—and at the way women looked at him as he sauntered along with a backpack over one shoulder and a gorgeous nonchalance to his gait.
But she knew he wasn’t nonchalant. He was alert, wary, and ready to spring into action.
He walked right to the gate area and found a seat. She sank down beside him and then glanced around nervously. Chase put in a pair of earbuds and laid his head back against the seat, closing his eyes.
Well, hell.
Sophie sat for a few minutes until she was too bored to be still. There was a bookstore nearby, and she started to get up and go browse.
Chase’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, searing into her and stopping her from moving at the same time. His eyes were open now. She forced a smile as a lady looked over at them, her eyes moving between them with interest.
“I was simply going to the bookstore, darling,” she said lightly.
Chase’s eyes narrowed as he tugged her back and put an arm around her. His lips were at her ear.
“What the fuck are you doing? Your passport is American.”
It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. She’d spoken with a British accent. She hadn’t consciously thought about it, but it seemed right. Another layer to the disguise.
She lowered her voice for his ears only. “I don’t see how that matters. The only people who’ll ask for it now are the immigration control personnel in France. Besides, it’s another way to hide from Grigori.”
His eyes flashed hot—and then he released her, but not before sliding his fingers along her cheek and down her throat. She knew he did it for the woman watching them, but she liked it anyway. A shiver slid down her spine and into her toes.
“All right, honey. If that’s what you want. We’ll go look at the books.”
“You don’t have to go with me. You can see the store from here.”
He stood and shouldered the backpack before taking her hand and pulling her up. “Doesn’t work that way, babe. I’m on you like superglue until this thing is over.”
She tried not to think about all the ways she’d like him to be on her as they strolled to the bookshop. He held her hand casually, lightly, and all she could think of was the way his skin burned into hers. What would it be like if there was nothing at all between them but skin? How would his skin sizzle into her then?