Page 141 of Covert Mission

“I’m exhausted.”

“Let’s get some sleep.”

She nods, but when I pull her to my chest, she’s rigid. I rub my hand down her back. “Nighthawk is not going to fire you.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“He owes me his life.”

She leans back and searches my face.

“I know about his eye because I was there.”

Her throat works as her forehead creases. “Is that when you got hurt?”

“One of the times. The shrapnel wound is from the same IED that ended his career and almost his life.”

Camile drops her head to my chest. “I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

The tenderness in her words is hard for me to take. I’m not used to that. I didn’t have it when I was a kid. I sure as hell didn’t get any tenderness in the Teams.

“Let’s get some sleep. We both need a clear head in the morning.”

She lets me pull her toward the bed. “I like you in my T-shirt.” I lift it over her head and lean down to brush my lips over the soft curve of her breast.

Her breath pulls in quickly. I brush my palm over her ribs, down her side until it rests on the rise of her hip bone. “I should stop now.”

“You should. Otherwise, I have a feeling we won’t get any sleep.”

When I take her face in both my hands, she watches me with some unknown emotion welling behind her eyes. I swear I’ll figure out what it is.

But not tonight.

I kiss her slowly, pulling her toward the bed. She sighs as I tug her bra off. Then her shorts and panties. Her hand slides down my abs as I pull off my cargos and briefs. Her touch is lingering, her expression serious.

That tender, concerned look slices me.

I rumble and guide her toward the bed. “Climb in.”

She pulls away from me and slides beneath the thin, summer-weight blanket. When I climb in, she turns on her side, facing away from me.

“Here, raise up.” I slide my arm under her head. “Best pillow ever made.”

She chuckles softly. “See, you are so cocky.”

“You can’t tell me it isn’t.”

After yawning, she softens against me. “I’ll tell you in the morning. Goodnight, Beast.”

“Goodnight, Poppy Camile Calypso.” I kiss her neck and wrap my arm over her waist.

She feels right in my arms. I just wish there wasn’t an ominous sense of foreboding climbing up my spine. It’s one sign I never ignore.

ChapterForty-Seven

He left me a note.

No one has ever left me a morning note.