Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (6 page)

His sculpted mouth distracts me as it hangs partially open in anticipation. I have the urge to lean in and kiss him, but I refrain.

Since when does Agent Alex Turner have the urge to kiss anyone?

Every part of my professional being is telling me no, but I want to see what he has to offer. He has me reeling for more of him.

I sigh and I am hoping for a compromise, though I know I am bending the rules to make it convenient for me. I am selfish and I know it.

"Can we try not to get attached to each other? Can you refrain from doing things like kissing me, touching me, whatever? You need to try to keep your distance from me. This is a warning. I'd like to spend time with you but I don't want—I don't need—something to commit to. I am not a girl you should get tangled up with. Can we be friends?" I look him dead in the eye and decide to beat him at his own game. "People tend to fall in love with me, and I don't want to break your heart."

He smiles this triumphant boyish grin.
Oh my.
He sputters a laugh of shock.

"Hmm, for some reason
, I believe you. We can take this slow. Right now, I want you any way I can get you. Let's go to my place, watch a movie, order a pizza, and that's it. Innocent. I won't even touch you. I promise."

I don't believe him, but it makes me giddy.

Agent Turner, do you even know what it means to be giddy?

I shake my head, dumbfounded by this man, and consider his offer.

My cell phone buzzes, breaking my train of thought. The phone sitting between us reveals a text message from Marcus Gibbs:

Hey there, how's it going? Wanna get some drinks tonight?

My stomach clenches as I peer up into the, again, wary blue icebergs that are Jeremy's eyes. He knows it's Marcus, and that right now I am going to have to choose between them. Before I can think, I blurt out, "A movie sounds great."
What are you doing?

It all becomes worth it when Jeremy
bestows his pantie-dropping grin upon me, and before I can make a move, he is piling up my textbooks and putting them in my backpack for me. My grin is embarrassing as I watch him acting out how smitten I feel on the inside.

I get up from my seat, and Jeremy grabs my hand and pull
s me outside. What happened to the I-promise-I-won't-touch-you
thing? But I don't protest one bit.

I tuck my phone in my pocket without giving it a second glance and follow Jeremy out the door.

Derek is going to kill me.

Risky Business

ALEX TURNER

His smile is so incredible that it has my special-ops-trained knees wobbly. I feel like I am coming down with an illness or something. I take a deep breath to regain my balance. I am a girl defined by control, and I need to get a grip. He's involved in my assignment. I can't be so careless.
Too late.

"Do you have a car?" he asks.

What is happening still baffles me. I stumble with my words and forget what language to use.

"
Sim, eu faço
... I mean, yes, yes, I do. Except I prefer to take public transit when I can, sooo ... not today."
Smooth.

I exhale, frustrated. I want to hit myself. Did I really almost speak Portuguese to
Mr. Big Shot? Why don't I whip out my gun and badge while I'm at it, and ruin everything?

He looks confused. "Did you just
—?"

"
No." I cut him off.
God, help me.

He laughs at me for a moment and says, "Yes
, you did. What language was that?"

I chew my lip and I am glad it wasn't Arabic
; I would not have a legitimate answer for that one. I know Portuguese because the only family I have—had—was my great-aunt who barely spoke English.

"Um, it was Portuguese. I'm half." I manage a weak smile
, because it is at least the truth.

Without missing a beat, he responds with, "No wonder you're so beautiful."

I don't like the comment for a variety of reasons, and I cannot stop my immediate response. I roll my eyes.

He yanks at my arm
, halting our stride. It shocks me, because it is simply a glimmering insight into who Jeremy really is. His demeanor, playful only moments ago, has shifted. He is stern-CEO with his face set into a hard line, but his angular features are so sharply beautiful that he has me mesmerized.

"You need to learn to take a compliment." Even though his icy stare is supposed to strike fear, it manages to egg me on.

"Well, if I thought it was genuine, maybe I would."

He still isn't willing to let go of my hand as I try to tug it away.

"I think you are beautiful," he says, forceful but soft. I am trapped in his gaze, and my mouth goes dry. "I know you work in an environment where people may say that to you all the time, but I don't use the word lightly, OK?"

Oh, he still thinks I am a waitress
—how could I forget?

Before letting me respond
, he takes his free hand, runs his long fingers down my face, and traces his thumb over my bottom lip as if I am some cherished being.

Who is this guy? My training never prepared me for this.

I pull away and we continue our walk. This man has somehow destroyed my ability to filter myself. "You need to know that I can't do this; I'm no good for you."
Let’s try this one more time.

We finally make it to his car. He opens the passenger door to his white, high-end Lexus for me and places my backpack inside.

His lips twist with amusement as he helps me climb into the car. "I can't see how that is possible."

His playful mood is back
, and I find it gives me a sense of reassurance. "You don't know me. I wish I could tell you more but I can't." I wish it didn't have to be this way. He is too intertwined in my job. He practically
is
my assignment.
What have I gotten myself into?

"Well, let me get to know you."

He's about to shut the door, and I manage to speak before it slams closed. "I am just going to hurt you!"

I can see Jeremy's baffled expression through the tinted windows. He comes around, opens the driver side door, gracefully slips inside
, and starts the engine.

"I don't see that happening. I don't think you will hurt me
." His tone is sincere. His face searches mine for a moment before he pulls the car out of the parking spot. I watch him in silence.

I think I must be chewing my lip raw now
. "Jeremy, if I hurt you, it would not be intentional. You don't know what I am capable of."

The professional flirt he is, he turns to look at me as his eyes heat
. "I want to know what you're capable of," he says. He flashes me his wry smile before looking back to the road.

I reward him with one of my own
. "You're not hearing me. You won't understand and I can't explain it, but I am honestly dangerous, Jeremy."

We reach a red light
, and he looks at me, ready to laugh. His eyes flit over my body as if sizing me up as a threat. By the look on his face, it seems he comes to the quick conclusion that I’m not.

"You don't believe me?" I ask, annoyed.

He lets out a chuckle as he reaches out to squeeze my knee, and there is that electrical spark he elicits.

"Um
... kind of," he says as we pull forward. A part of me is tempted to remind him of our first encounter, but I refrain and huff instead.
How mature of you.

"Not only are you beautiful, but adorable when you're angry."

I feign anger. "Trust me, Jeremy. You do not want to see me angry." I notice his hand is still on my knee. I petulantly lift it off my leg. He twists his lips in protest to express his distaste. "You said you wouldn't touch me. You need to keep your promise, and your distance."

"Why do you keep saying things like that?" His frustration shows as we pull into
an underground parking garage.

I
sound like a broken record. "I wish I could tell you. Consider it for your safety."

Again, there is this pang of regret as I hear the words come out of my mouth. I am already breaking so many rules. How can I fix any of this anymore? Suddenly
, it hits me. Maybe I could somehow convince Derek to let Jeremy in on this case. He could help us. Derek will think I am crazy, but maybe it could work. Hell, even I know it sounds crazy.

JEREMY HUNT

Why is she still pushing me away? This still can't be about Marcus. I mean, she chose to be here with me. Why all these warnings? She talks a lot of talk
, but her actions have me confused. I've known her for such a short period and already I have moments where I'd rather broker a multimillion-dollar deal than figure out what this damned girl is telling me. Are women literal creatures? I have to admit this is not my forte.

She drags behind me, but with a hint of a smile playing on her lips that easily keeps me interested.
Dammit, Hunt, you have it bad.

The older gentleman
, who sits behind the security counter, clears my entrance into the building. "Good day, Mr. Hunt."

"Hello
, Mitchell."

The man is in his mid-seventies and can't hide his judgments even if he tried. He eyes the way I hold Alex's somewhat reluctant hand and pull her to the elevators.
Yeah, yeah, Mitchell, think whatever you want, you old coot.

Alex begins another plea.
"Jeremy, please listen to me. I don't know if this is such a good idea right now." She bobs on her heels.

"Stop telling me things like that. Don't you get it? I don't care." I
am getting frustrated.

Her teeth reach out and grab her bottom lip yet again
, and I practically ache to taste that lip. Did I mention all sorts of frustrated?

The door pings open
, and she manages to free her hand from mine as she scoots inside.
Well, at least she isn't running.

This is such a new phenomenon to me. I have never doubted myself so much in my life, but I also have never wanted anything so bad
ly either.

I step inside
, right in front of her, looking into her hazel eyes. They practically twinkle with electricity in the fluorescent light as it catches their gold color. The doors shut behind me, and the air in the small space becomes thick. The temperature rises from the heat of our bodies in the confines of the ascending metal box.

She is trying her hardest to look anywhere but at me
, and it makes me grin.

Still looking away, she huffs, "I think you may be the most frustrating man I have ever met too."

I analyze her features, completely in awe of her, and I still don't know why.
Maybe because you always want what you can't have.
My reasons most definitely include her button nose, high, rosy cheekbones, wide puppy eyes, and waves of black locks that beg to be played with.

As if losing patience with the silence
, she peers up at me. Her eyes widen at the eye contact, and her playful smirk is back, causing the corner of my mouth to rise too. The attraction is there, I can sense it. Our stare is like a tractor beam neither of us can break. I want to kiss her.

"Don't even think about it
, Jeremy."
Did she just read my mind?
"Yeah, it's that obvious, and I am telling you, don't do it."

My eyebrows shoot up in wry amusement, but it's as if she is daring me
. I lean toward her. She doesn't take a step back, but instead raises her hand and places it on my chest in a haphazard attempt to stop me.

"Will you ever listen to a damn word I say?"
She nearly growls, but oddly lets her lips slip into a smile.

It is all a game and I never lose. Her persistence only makes it seem more like a challenge that I can't ignore, and I know all I want is to kiss that wonderful mouth.

She's smiling as I get closer. "Jeremy, please."

With her hand languidly resting on my chest, our lips finally touch. I can feel her wonderfully rewarding grin against my mouth. I don't want to stop, and she doesn't resist. If anything, she eggs me on as she lets her hand drag over my chest
, sending delicious goose bumps all over my body. The kiss is gentle and passionate as her lips command mine.

Her hand climbs up my neck
, and she tangles her fingers into my hair, anchoring me to her. Carnal hunger takes over as she lets me part her lips, tasting her sinful flavor, and our tongues twist around each other. My skin burns as if it's on fire.

I bring my hand up to cup her face
as I back her up against the wall, pinning her with my hips, and she lets out a quiet moan. My pants strain at the sound. I have never felt such an explosion of need for another human being.

There is no sign of us wanting to stop as my free hand
hungrily glides down her waist to her thigh, forcing her to wrap her legs around me as I press harder against her.

Ping.
The elevator doors open.

For the first time in my
life, I think I might have actually met my match, because we don't bother to look, stop, or even fidget. Not in the slightest.

"
Excuse me! I said, 'Excuse me,'" someone shouts from the hallway.

P
ing.
The doors shut.

Who was it? I don't know and don't care. All I know is
they didn't bother stepping inside, and I finally get to take that wonderful lip between my teeth and tug.

She roughly pulls me into another passionate kiss
, and all I can think is I want more, so much more.

P
ing.
The elevator doors open again
.
This must be my floor now.

Before I can form some plan of action
, she pushes me away with an amount of strength that surprises me.

We are out of breath. The rush from whatever just happened has
me feeling as if I ran a marathon. I can't wipe the stupid grin off my face. She shakes her head, as if trying to shake the situation from her mind, and continues to push me off her as she reclaims her body and its limbs.

She takes in one final fill of oxygen
, and says with force, "You get one free pass, Jeremy,
one
, and that was it."

This time
, she is the one grabbing my hand as she pulls me out of the elevator. As if this is my fault.

I don't know much, but I do know it takes two to tango.