Ghostwalker 09 - Ruthless Game

She couldn’t stop the words from slipping out. He was exceptional.
    He bent and brushed a kiss down her face to the side of her mouth. “You clearly don’t know very many men, Rose.” He kissed her again, this time on her temple. “Which is perfectly okay with me. You did a great job, honey. Our son is beautiful. Thank God he looks like you.”
    Her lashes fluttered while she tried to calm her wildly beating heart. She couldn’t let herself fal for him. She’d committed to being with him, but she didn’t want her heart involved. Hearts could break, and she was strong on her own. She had to be to survive. She knew nothing at al about relationships or family. She might be able to figure out parenting, but mostly she thought in terms of protecting her child, rather than raising him. Real feelings for Kane would be a complication. She was already infatuated with him. She told herself it was because he was the first good man she’d ever met, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was a lot more complicated than that—and maybe already too late.
    “I think he looks like you,” she said. “My hair, but the rest is al you.”
    “I look like a little old man?”
    Her heart fluttered again at his gentle teasing. His fingers brushed at the strands of hair fal ing around her face, and she absorbed his touch as if starved for it—and maybe she was. She had never been cuddled or held in her life. Kane had changed al that when he’d made love to her. He hadn’t forced sex. He’d been so gentle, every touch bringing pleasure—more than physical pleasure. The contact had touched more than her body, and now she craved those smal touches. She could tel he was hesitant about too much contact with her, but she wished he’d just lie down beside her and hold her in his arms.
    “He doesn’t look like an old man.”
    Kane laughed softly at Rose’s admonishment as he nuzzled the baby’s head. A little reluctantly, he put him in the little cubicle he’d made to keep him warm. Rose hadn’t once brought up the fact that Whitney had experimented on both of the boy’s parents, and now he carried their DNA. Whitney had altered their DNA, and there was no tel ing what kinds of gifts or curses the child carried. Sometimes the psychic gifts were so strong that the person needed another person—an anchor—to be able to filter out the distressing disturbances around them.
    He touched the child with gentle fingers, feeling almost overwhelmed with love. How could such a little stranger steal his heart in a matter of moments?
    Did al parents feel this way about their child? Was it because he’d helped to bring the boy into the world right in the midst of danger? He could barely believe that he and Rose had actual y created this little human being together.
    He slowly undid the blanket to look down at his son’s tiny form. He was born early, yet he was ful y formed and already showing signs of body strength in his physical form. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his son was one of the supersoldiers Whitney was trying to create. When the child opened his sleepy eyes and looked at him, there was intel igence there. Granted, Kane had no experience with children, let alone new babies, but his gut rarely lied to him, and he had a strong feeling about the boy.
    He sighed as he wrapped the boy tightly. “We won’t let him get his hands on you, son,” he promised softly. He very gently laid his hand on the boy’s head. “Your mother and I wanted you. Whatever else happens, know you were wanted by both of us.”
    He felt Rose’s gaze fixed on him and turned to look into her dark eyes. Everything inside him stil ed. She smiled at him, and his stomach did a slow somersault. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
    “I know.”
    It was her tone of voice—soft and dreamy, almost a caress—that got to him. She looked at him as if he were her entire world. He wanted to be, but he knew she just didn’t have any experience. A man like him, without a clue of home and family, a man born to fight wars, had no right being with a woman like Rose. He wanted to be the man in her mind, that fantasy, but he wasn’t. If she committed to him, if she married him, it was forever. He wouldn’t be walking away, and neither would she. She’d had enough of being imprisoned. Was life with him going to be anything else but a prison?
    He had no answers, and he turned away, shaking his head. He drew the chair to the end of the bed and slowly