She did not have years to pierce that wall. She had a son, she had a life. She was working on surviving her own past and making a decent future.
And she still had that son because Cameron had stepped in and taken a bullet for him.
She had been passionately grateful to him for saving Luke. Somehow that gratitude had become lost in her other emotions toward Cameron. How could that have happened?
Because it had made her feel vulnerable, and she couldn’t afford to feel any more vulnerable toward him. Yet it was all part of the total of what she felt for Cameron. What she had to come to terms with before she left him.
“Get out of here,” Cameron said roughly. “I’m trying to hold on, but it’s not going to last long.”
She could see that. And she knew that when that dam broke, it would overwhelm both of them as it had before. She would feel helpless and lost and want only—
What was she thinking? She sounded like a victim, his victim, and that would never be true. She had choice and power, and she would learn control.
“I’m going.” She got to her feet. “But not just yet.” She came toward him and stopped before his chair. “Because I have to come to terms with you, Cameron. All through our time together, you’ve been intimidating me.”
“The hell I have. You’re tough, Catherine.”
“Oh, I fought it. Maybe it was those damn mind tricks that threw me off.” She looked him in the eye. “Or maybe it was that I’d never wanted anyone sexually the way I did you. It made me feel helpless, and I hated it. Anyway it all added up to intimidation.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is this leading somewhere?”
“Yes, out of confusion and into the bright light.” She took his face into her hands and stared into his eyes. “First, I just realized I don’t have to be intimidated by you. I’m no victim.”
“You’re damn right you’re not.”
“Second, I want to tell you I’m grateful to you for saving Luke. I’ll never forget it.”
“I don’t want your gratitude. I made you a promise.”
“Whether you want it or not, I’m grateful. Accept it. Third, I will not go with you and be your mistress. Accept it.” She bent forward and kissed him, hard, open, passionate. “Also accept that anything I do isn’t because I’m grateful; it’s because I want to do it. Not forever, not permanent, just for tonight. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t have you. I’m taking what I want if you want to give it.” She stepped back, pulled her sleep shirt over head, and dropped it on the floor. “Understood?”
“Oh, my God.” He reached for her and she was suddenly on his lap and his mouth was on her breast.
She could hardly breathe. She could feel his teeth and his tongue and that suction that nearly drove her crazy. “No.” She was sitting astride him, unbuttoning his shirt, then her fingers were on his pants, freeing him.
She cried out as he sank deep, her arms holding him with all her strength, and her body moved.
Taking. Taking. Taking.
His mouth was on hers as he tumbled her to the floor.
He lifted her hips to take the thrust.
Deep. Deeper.
Full of him …
His mouth on her breast, drawing, biting.
Fire.
Breathlessness.
Deeper.
It was a fever. It was need.
A need that was met and satisfied and ignited again, and again.
And it went on forever.
Or maybe it was only hours that seemed forever.
Silk on her bare skin …
She opened her eyes as he carried her over to the couch and settled her there. He gently tucked the silk comforter he’d taken from the chair over her. “You like the feel of silk against you? Sharp and soft, it’s very sensual.” He drew the end of the comforter slowly, teasingly, over her breasts and smiled as he saw the response. “I learned a few interesting things do with silk cords and raw silk. Remind me to show you.” He dropped a light kiss on her lips. “I don’t want to leave now, but I’m not going to do anything to push my luck. I told you that you could be in control.” He was dressing quickly. “I did understand you, Catherine. Perhaps more than you understood yourself.”
“Intimidation, again … You’re wrong, I understood what I wanted, and I took it.” And she wanted him again. He was putting on his shirt and the ripples of muscle were sleek and—“You’re bleeding again!” Her gaze was on the bandage on the left side that was wet with fresh blood. “I forgot about your wound. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He grinned. “Surely you jest? Even if I’d noticed it, I wouldn’t have run the risk of you stopping to soothe and rebandage me.” He came back to her and pulled the silk comforter down and kissed her breast. “And it gave me a chance to prove I’d give my blood for you.” He rubbed his slightly rough cheek against her. “I would, you know. To the last drop.”
“Bullshit.” She pushed him away. “Your committee wouldn’t permit you to donate even a pint of your precious blood to the Red Cross.” She sat up. “You’re too essential to their splendid cause.”
“It is splendid, Catherine.” He got to his feet. “You’ll come to believe that, too, someday.”
“No, I won’t. And that’s another prime reason for me to leave and let you go back to being Guardian. We’d never agree.”
“We’ve just spent a number of hours in complete agreement.” He turned and headed for the door. “And we will again.”
“You said you understood. It’s over now. I told you, it was just for tonight, Cameron.”
He smiled as he opened the door. “I can be patient. I can let you go for a while. I was planning on it anyway. I’ll either come after you, or you’ll come to me.”
Her brows rose. “I’ll come to you?”
“Oh, not running to jump into bed with me. That would be too much to hope for. But you’re CIA and as Guardian I have frequent encounters both bad and good with the CIA. I leave them alone as long as they don’t interfere, but they’re becoming increasingly troublesome.”
“Or is it you who are becoming troublesome?”
“The dangers are increasing, and I have to make adjustments for them.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’s more likely to bring us together.”
“Or put us on the hunt for each other.”
“But that could be exciting, too.”
She felt a thrill of that excitement at the thought. How would it feel to be on the hunt for Cameron with his superb talents and training?
“You see?” Cameron said softly. “It can’t be over. We’d miss too much.”
She believed him as she gazed at him standing there. He had so many different faces. Guardian, warrior, crown prince of never-never land. Memories were flooding back to her of Cameron in a dozen different scenes since he’d come into her life. That first moment when she’d seen him before that fireplace in what she’d thought was a hallucination, the moment when he’d lifted her from the hot spring, the moment in the Mercedes when he’d first touched her. How many other such moments could be on the horizon? “If we don’t kill each other.”
He chuckled. “Point taken. But it’s not likely.” His laughter faded. “I don’t think I could bear it.” He started to leave.
“Wait.”
He looked back at her.
“I once asked you a question. You never really answered me. Is Shambhala a real place? Is there a true Shangri-La?”
“What do you think?” His smile was brilliant, telling nothing, promising everything. “Come with me and I’ll take you to see for yourself.”
The next moment, he was gone.
ALSO BY IRIS JOHANSEN
Silencing Eve
Hunting Eve
Taking Eve
Sleep No More
Close Your Eyes (with Roy Johansen)
What Doesn’t Kill You
Bonnie
Quinn
Eve
Chasing the Night
Shadow Zone (w
ith Roy Johansen)
Eight Days to Live
Blood Game
Deadlock
Dark Summer
Quicksand
Silent Thunder (with Roy Johansen)
Pandora’s Daughter
Stalemate
An Unexpected Song
Killer Dreams
On the Run
Countdown
Blind Alley
Firestorm
Fatal Tide
Dead Aim
No One to Trust
Body of Lies
Final Target
The Search
The Killing Game
The Face of Deception
And Then You Die
Long After Midnight
The Ugly Duckling
Lion’s Bride
Dark Rider
Midnight Warrior
The Beloved Scoundrel
The Magnificent Rogue
The Tiger Prince
Last Bridge Home
The Golden Barbarian
Reap the Wind
Storm Winds
Wind Dancer
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
IRIS JOHANSEN is the New York Times bestselling author of Silencing Eve, Hunting Eve, Taking Eve, Sleep No More, What Doesn’t Kill You, Bonnie, Quinn, Eve, Chasing the Night, Eight Days to Live, Blood Game, Deadlock, Dark Summer, Pandora’s Daughter, Quicksand, Killer Dreams, On the Run, Countdown, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim, No One to Trust, and more. And with her son, Roy Johansen, she has coauthored Close Your Eyes, Shadow Zone, Storm Cycle, and Silent Thunder. Visit her at www.irisjohansen.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OfficialIrisJohansen.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
LIVE TO SEE TOMORROW. Copyright © 2014 by Johansen Publishing LLLP. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Rob Grom
Cover photograph © Shuhui Yang
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Johansen, Iris.
Live to see tomorrow / Iris Johansen.—First Edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-250-02004-8 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-02003-1 (e-book)
1. United States. Central Intelligence Agency—Officials and employees—Fiction. 2. Women intelligence officers—Fiction. 3. Kidnapping—Tibet—Fiction. 4. Women journalists—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3560.O275L58 2014
813'.54—dc23
2013047079
e-ISBN 9781250020031
First Edition: April 2014
Iris Johansen, Live to See Tomorrow
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