She was torn. Should she stay still and let him drive her crazy in his freaking sleep, or wake him up?

He gently touched her again, and she strained for more contact. Her breasts felt flushed, and she was almost tempted to touch them herself. He seemed to love watching that yesterday.

Instead his fingers trailed down her belly, caressing the slight curve of her. He must be asleep. His touch was so lazy, so gentle. So unlike him. She moved a tiny bit, so that if his sleeping self wanted to go further he could. How brazen was she being, anyway?

His fingers slid down the top of her thigh, gently making patterns that were driving her crazy. He shifted against her so that she was almost lying on her stomach, her upper leg now bent to stop her rolling completely on her front. Please. Touch me. She could feel her own wetness without even touching herself.

He stroked her ass cheek, over and over until she wanted to scream.

Just when she couldn’t take any more, he dipped his fingers, so lightly, first lightly circling her ass, then the side of her thighs, back to her ass, so lightly touching that she wondered if she was imagining it.

But no. He trailed down her leg, and when he brought his fingers up again, they stroked her outer lips, before delving farther in with his return stroke. He hesitated and felt her wetness again. A groan rumbled through his body, but he did nothing except play in the wetness, making her crazy. Then he used three fingers to lubricate her clit. She was so excited she was going to come any fucking moment.

Just when she thought he was going to let her come, his fingers pressed back to her ass, pushing gently for admittance. But just when she thought this was going to take a whole other turn, he went back to her clit. Circling it first with his wet fingers, he then used two fingers to play. He rubbed directly on it first, then slightly to one side, which brought a whole new sensation pulsing through her body, then he just used one finger. Lightly playing over it, until she felt herself rocking against his hand, teetering on the precipice before tumbling over in a wave of pleasure, heat, and wantonness.

As her orgasm subsided, she turned. His eyes were fully open, not even sleepy looking. “You were awake this whole time?” she asked.

“You think I do this kind of thing in my sleep? Not too wise when I spent nearly all my formative years sleeping in dorms with other guys.”

She laughed. When he put it like that…

“Well you never know,” she said. “You might have got this.”

She sprang up, sliding on top of him, straddling his thighs and pressing her still-wet clitoris against his hard dick lying flat against his stomach. He jumped. But not as much as when she slid his whole dick inside her.

She sat up, and raised and lowered herself on him. He clamped his teeth together breathing in tightly. “Jesus.”

She slipped a pillow under his head so he could see better, because she wanted him to see her. She wanted to be sure that if he left her, then he would have a lot of memories to torture himself with.

She leaned right back so he could see his dick disappearing inside her. With one hand she braced herself, and with the other she reached behind her and squeezed his balls. He groaned, and pumped faster inside her, gaze firmly at the place they were joined. Just when she thought he was going to come, she sat up and touched the base of his dick as it was thrusting into her.

He gripped her thighs as he came, shuddering into her, eyes closed. She was never going to forget him, that was for sure.

He wrapped his arm around her and brought her head to his chest. His heart was still racing. They lay there for a while—long enough for Molly to wonder what he was thinking about. Long enough to remember what they were running from, what had happened last night.

“My God. Someone tried to kill us last night,” she said.

“But they didn’t,” David said. “And we’ve definitely done enough here to prove to ourselves that we’re still alive, don’t you think?”

She could hear a smile in his voice, but his words injected a thread of certainty. This amazing sex was because they were in danger. That’s all it was. Their lives were so different, there was no way they could make this work. And despite his best efforts, they were on the run in a foreign country with a few hundred euros to their names. He seemed fine, but she was starting to believe it was because he was calling on his training, and concentrating on the job at hand. She wasn’t sure how reliable he’d be if he didn’t have a mission on his mind. How…steady. She sighed at herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about this. She should only be thinking about stopping the death and destruction that had dogged her since she set foot in Athens.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“You’re going to tell me about that message you were trying to give Doubrov,” he said.

She tried to sit up, get off the bed or something, but he held her tight until she relaxed against him. “I was sworn to secrecy,” she said.

“Sweetheart. I think that ship has sailed. I need to know what you got into so I can help fix it, okay?” He said, his voice rumbling through his chest.

She raised her head and examined his face for something she could trust. He’d been with the military, so she could trust that part of him, but then he’d gone all rogue with the mercenaries. She knew nothing about the company he was with now, but she guessed she needed to trust him with that part of the nightmare, at least. If he let her down, then shame on him.

She took a deep breath. “After Iraq last year, Henrietta and I were debriefed by people in the State Department. Brandon was a low-level guy who took notes and brought tea and coffee. He was nice, serious…solicitous even. He made sure we knew when the different hearings were and made sure we were where we were supposed to be, when we were supposed to be.

“I heard nothing from him since, until he called me last week. He asked to meet me before I caught my flight to Athens. He asked me if I would do one thing to help my country. Of course I said yes.”

David’s mind ran at a hundred miles an hour. Who recruited a civilian to do anything involving the Russian government? His instinct was to beat some sense into the nitwit.

“He gave me the two envelopes and told me to wait for a text to tell me which message to pass to Dr. Doubrov at that cocktail party. And the rest you know. Except I haven’t been able to get in contact with him since the professor was shot.”

David got up and took the notes from his pants pocket. Brandon Peterson. BP. The fucking pen that had been used as an improvised trigger. BP? But why? Why send someone on an errand and then try to make sure the person she was supposed to deliver a message to was killed? The only reason would be an aborted mission. But then why not just call Molly and tell her to flush the notes?

One thing he knew. He wanted to talk to Peterson. He seemed to be the only guy with the answers.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him, placing a light hand on his shoulder.

He told her about the explosives that he and Mal had found, and the monogrammed empty pen casing that they’d found as part of the device. “I need to speak to Brandon Peterson. And I suspect that he’s here in Athens.”

She tucked some hair behind her ear, and suddenly all he wanted was to stay and absorb all the tiny movements she made. The scratching of an itch on the side of her nose, the little sniff she made of her coffee before sipping it, pushing her hair off her face. All the little details that made a memory real. That gave it depth. He closed his eyes against the thought that he was collecting memories. Preparing never to see her again.

“What can I do?” she asked, wrapping a sheet around her. It was the first time she’d hidden herself from him. Could she tell he was thinking about being without her? About only having memories to keep him warm?