Page 37 of Furry Equations
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Is that so?”
“Mh-mmm.” His eyes met hers in the mirror, dark with something that made her pulse race. “I have several ideas, actually.”
“Care to share with the class?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she quickly focused on a particularly nasty gash across his ribs, hoping he couldn’t hear her thundering heartbeat.
His hand caught hers, pressing it flat against his chest. The steady thump beneath her palm matched her own racing pulse. “I think you know exactly what I mean, sweetheart.”
The endearment, spoken in that low, intimate tone, sent shivers down her spine. She looked up, finding his face much closer than she’d expected. Time seemed to suspend as his other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip.
“Marcus,” she breathed, swaying toward him unconsciously.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to her mouth.
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t want you to stop.”
The confession hung between them for one heartbeat, two, before he closed the distance. The first brush of his lips against hers was gentle, questioning. A test. When she sighed and pressed closer, his control snapped.
The kiss deepened, igniting every nerve ending in her body. His hand slid into her hair as she stepped fully between his legs, pressing against him like she could crawl inside his skin. He tasted like danger and desire and something she’d been craving without knowing it.
When they finally broke apart, Natalie’s world had tilted on its axis. No kiss had ever felt like that—like coming home and stepping off a cliff all at once.
“That was...” she started, then laughed shakily. “I don’t even know what that was.”
“Inevitable,” he supplied, his voice rough. His hands hadn’t left her, one still tangled in her hair while the other traced patterns on her lower back. “Been wanting to do that since the night we met.”
“Even when I was blown up and covered in chemical residue?”
“Even then.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
She was about to ask him to elaborate when her laptop chimed from the kitchen. Reality crashed back like a bucket of ice water.
“The security logs,” she remembered, reluctantly stepping back. “We should check those.”
His hands fell away, but his eyes promised this conversation wasn’t over. “After you, Dr. Grant.”
In the kitchen, she tried to focus on the computer screen instead of the lingering heat of his kiss. Her lips still tingled,and every cell in her body seemed attuned to his presence as he leaned over her shoulder.
Then she saw the logs, and all thoughts of kisses fled.
“No,” she whispered, double-checking the data.
The evidence glared back at her. Someone on Marcus’s security team had accessed the decoy files she set up for just this reason, sending the data to an encrypted external address. The timing matched perfectly with each attack.
“Marcus!” She spun in her chair, almost colliding with his chest. “You have a mole.”
His expression darkened as she explained the access logs. “These hacks have all occurred when we were attacked.”
“Why only then?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “Maybe because the mole knows you won’t be accessing a computer during that time. Thus not able to trace them.”
“Well, then I’ll give them that chance.” He spun around as if to leave.
“Wait,” she said, “where are you going?” she stood. “I’m coming with you.”
“You stay here. I’ll handle this.”
“Like hell.” She poked his chest. “This involves my research, my life. I’m not sitting on the sidelines while you play lone wolf hero.”