Page 35 of Dangerous Mission
Her shocked expression morphs in front of my eyes. The soft curve of her kissable mouth becomes a hard slash. “Yeah, I heard you. How about saying,please?”
Energy crackles up my spine and shoots out of my eyes. The nerve of this tiny creature continues to dismay me.
With a lift of her chin, she holds my gaze. “I can just sit back here. That way you won’t have to be disturbed by my nearness and your mean-mug attitude won’t rub off on me.”
I hang my head as I rub my jaw. “Fuck.”
“And I don’t like that word.”
Closing my eyes, I pray for another lightning strike. This time with me square in the path. “Okay, let me see if I can dial my X-rated SEAL vocabulary back to PG for her highness. How aboutfreak.”
She huffs.
“What, is that too offensive for your delicate little ears? How about Foo-foo?”
“Oh my god. You’re insufferable.”
She’s right. I am. “Get up here.”
“You didn’t say, please.”
I climb into the truck, slam the door and hit the start button. “I’m not going to. We’re at a standoff.”
From the backseat, a tight voice says, “So be it.”
I throw the truck into reverse and hit the gas too hard, causing the Ford to lurch.
Aria squeals. “You maniac!”
“You have no idea. Buckle up.”
Her grumble is really close to my ear. Close enough that a warm breath brushes over my neck.
Alarm bells go off in cells I didn’t know I had. The warning racing from my head to my toes and lighting up several very inconvenient places in between.
I refuse to look at her to see what she’s doing. Shit, I shouldn’t even breathe that soft, feminine scent. The salt on her skin, the hint of rain from last night.
When she squeezes through the gap between the frontseats, the hat full of Twinkies fly into my lap and her tit brushes my shoulder.
At least I think that’s what it was.
It was warm and soft and round. Not like anything on my body.
Clenching the wheel, I ignore, ignore, ignore.
She wiggles her way up to the front, making a soft little sound in her throat as she drops into the passenger seat.
Why, god?Why me?
I tear open the wrapper on one of the snack cakes with my teeth, because I’m going to bite my tongue off otherwise.
Goddamnit. Why does she have to look like that?
Girl next door. Oversized eyes as sweet as melted chocolate. Cupid’s-fucking-bow and all. The sleep tangles in her hair don’t help one bit. If she was anyone else—a woman in one of the clubs I go to—she wouldn’t stand a chance.
I’d be all over her.
But that’s never gonna happen.