Page 13 of Covert Mission
Christ!
“FamFind.” Beast spits the word out as he glares at the logo on my shirt.
The guy with the southern drawl spins on his heel, all yes-man action. “Sure thing, Chief.”
My nipples are now aching. But I REFUSE to move my crossed arms up to block his view. “You’re staring.”
When Beast’s eyes jump back to mine, they’re dark, dangerous, and utterly take my breath away.
Whoa.
Okay. That’s definitely heat in those cocoa-brown beauties.
We stay locked in some kind of weird, breathless exchange.
At least, I’m breathless.
He leans down, close enough for minty breath to dance over my skin, making my nipples turn diamond-hard.
“I’m only going to tell you once, Poppy. Those men will rape you, they will kill you, they will throw you in a ditch and never think twice. I don’t want to see that happen. So, until you get an extraction or an army of armed guards, you’re a pain in my ass. I’ve got work to do, and the first job is to get you and your team safe.”
He straightens. The muscles in his jaw flex, and he exhales roughly. He looks like he’s on the verge of snapping.
Hopefully, not my neck.
Something unsaid lingers in the air. It’s charged, and it’s big, and I’m too rattled to untangle it.
I think I’m bad for his blood pressure. It gives me a weird, brief sense of pleasure to see a man who's obviously big and in charge totally flustered.
He whirls around, leaving me staring.
I call out to him. “Why did you call me Poppy?”
Stupid thing to care about given the situation, but it’s burning on my tongue.
He turns around slowly. His jaw isn’t the only thing that’s tight now. His gigantic fists are clenched. His body is one giant vibrating coil.
Then he forces himself to exhale and unfurls his hands.
My lips start to burn at the memory of them pressed against my mouth.
“Old habit, a friend in my neighborhood had that nickname. I remember having to look up what it meant. It suits you. Wild and complicated.”
A tremor runs through me.
It’s not just his voice. The look. The hunger. The internal conflict in his eyes. It’s too much. But to hear him call me Poppy… That’s beyond rattling. It's too freaking much.
Poppy.
A word I haven’t heard in years. No one has called me Poppy in forever.
And I’ve never heard it saidin that gruff, sexy voice.
I force my throat to work so I can swallow the painful sting. It hurts far more than it should.
Just a dumb reaction.
Every redhead’s probably heard the nickname Poppy at least once. But I haven’t since high school.