Page 44 of Covert Mission
My mouth goes dry. My chest and hands tighten like I’m being shrink-wrapped.
The woman has a beautiful profile. A long, slender nose, a sweet curve to her lips, and a neck I’d love to spend hours getting very acquainted with.
The urge to brush back the loose tendrils of her deep red hair makes my fingers twitch.
My throat works.
Lust stirs around, deep in my body.
Dangerous game I’m playing.
Even with all her hissing and tough-girl banter, she’s too innocent for a damaged fuck-up like me.
This has to stop.
I scrub a calloused hand over my face. Now’s not the time to sort the mess in my head, but I want to know why the hell this woman has affected me like this.
A sharp whistle breaks the air.
I go on instant alert, thanks to years of conditioning.
“That’s one of my guys.” I motion for Camile to move out. “Let’s go. Someone’s looking for me. But you might want to pick up your bra now. Probably want to start by kicking that tarantula off of it first.”
She tenses. “Oh my god. This day just keeps on giving.”
Camile toes the tarantula away with the end of her boot.
I’ll give her props. She didn’t freak. I’m not sure if I’m more disappointed or impressed.
“You must have been around tarantulas before.”
She grabs her bra and hustles to the open truck door. When she rallies up with me, her mood seems better. “My best friend in high school had one. It took me a while before I could pet it, but eventually, I did.”
There’s a pleased expression on her face. Gone is her anger from a moment ago.
Not for me. I’m still a ball of barbed wire. “Let’s go.”
As we approach the maze of cargo, I motion for her to go in front of me. “Ladies first. By the way, you handled the spider situation well. I kind of expected you to scream and leap into my arms.”
She lets out a husky laugh. “See, there goes that imagination.”
“I’ve got plenty,” I openly admit as I watch her cute little ass sway in front of me.
A fire burns a path from my throat to my cock. My palm remembers what it was like to be clutching that firm cheek.
I do have a really good imagination. I can call up all kinds of ways that I want to get Camile dirty.
ChapterThirteen
I feel like I’ve been dancing.
Not the fun kind. The avoidance dance.
It takes serious work to avoid looking at the man. After hours of doing this, I’m wiped.
All the brooding stares he’s thrown my way have worn holes in me.
“Every time I look up, he’s watching me,” I mutter in Belle’s direction.