“I think you had plenty of company,” Rory says, that amused expression back on his face making my heart skip. Turning, he heads back the way he came.
I purse my lips, the expression doing nothing to hide the smile I’m trying to contain. Jameson brushes past me as he walks by, despite the wide space around us, his fingers find a way to slip beneath my shirt and skim against my lower stomach. “Cheeky little vixen.” His voice hums against my neck, his lips barely brushing there. “If you wanted to see me spoon with Mouse, all you had to do was ask.” A thrill shoots down my body as my mind goes wild with naughty, sexy thoughts. I press my thighs together as my body responds to the visual I can’t unsee.
With a salacious wink he disappears into the kitchen. The man has way too much swagger for someone who hasn’t had their coffee yet. “Good morning, lone capitan,” he greets Tylin.
I roll my eyes. How have the guys lived with him for so long?
I’m grinning by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs. Jameson’s gotten under my skin and his odd sense of humor is growing on me.
My good mood evaporates, however, when Rory tosses another set of black heels in my direction.
“Put those on.” All hints of a grin are gone from his face, and his voice is gruff and in command once more.
“Not this shit again.” I grumble but pick up the heels. As soon as I have the torture devices on my feet, I prop my hands on my hips. They’re at least an inch taller than the last pair and my ankles protest immediately.
“Move.” He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting. Watching.
I grit my teeth and start walking, getting used to the feel of them again, even though my ankles wobble with each step.
“You’ve seriously never worn heels before? I thought this shit was a staple in girls’ closets.” He sounds accusatory again. We seem to waft back and forth between being civil and being… this. This angry and untrusting sort of friendship we have with one another.
“I’d like to see you wear these things when you’re trying to scale buildings and balconies to reach your next mark.” I carefully pivot and start back the way I came.
I don’t dare raise my eyes to his face as I speak, focusing solely on each perilous step.
“I could do it.” The certainty in his voice irks me. Pure cockiness. The way he says it makes it sound like he wants to whip it all out and compare who has the better dick. Except I don’t have one, and I have very few objections to meetingthatmember of the team. I’d probably like him better than Rory, that’s for sure.
I sneer without looking up, “I’d fucking pay to see that.” I pivot once more, nearly losing my balance. I throw my hands out to my sides, helping me keep my balance on the pointy tips of the heels.
“You’re not on a fucking balance beam.” While I’m standing still, I chance a glance upward and narrow my eyes at him, throwing him a sarcastic look before my eyes find the floor once more.
With careful steps, I start my trek back across the room. “Where’s a nice pair of flats when you need them?” I mutter to myself.
He snorts. “Some assassin you are. Afraid of a little pain there, baby doll? Can’t take it as good as you give?” Somewhere in there is an odd compliment. And a whole heap of insult. And a smidgen of innuendo that I’m just going to overlook for now.
I swing my narrow gaze to his face so fast that I lose the unsteady balance I’ve been fighting for and start to fall to the side. The floor grows closer before strong hands wrap around each of my biceps, yanking me forward into a stone like chest.
Rory’s chest.
I look up, all traces of anger gone from my face. I can’t think. I can’t move. I just stand there and let him hold me.
The spicy musk of his cologne, or aftershave, or deodorant washes over me, and I breath him in. For more than a casual minute, we stand there, a mere inch between us. Something deep inside of me wishes for him to pull me closer. Close the gap. Crush me against his body.
That part of me is fucking insane and deserves to be shot.
Wasn’t this guy insulting me not three minutes ago? Yeah, tell that to my body. It doesn’t seem to care. Rory has been the unbreakable statue. The man made of stone, and right now, there’s something in his eyes that’s decidedly human. Like his smile. Like his offering to train me.
I don’t break the moment. Instead, I relish it, drinking in the rare sighting of the man beneath the asshole exterior.
Warmth flares to life in the depths of his green eyes.
His eyes flick back and forth between mine before he pulls me closer, leaning down. My breath catches.
His lips part and I hang on his words before they're even spoken.
“Again.” A smirk curves his lips and I let myself breathe again, scolding myself for getting caught up in something between us that is entirely non-existent.
That damn smirk of his tells me he knows what was floating through my sex-ridden mind.
