As she stalked past him, she let her shoulder bump his. With their height difference, she really only bumped his bicep, but it drove home her point.
She didn’t bother to see his reaction, just closed and locked the door behind her. The space smelled faintly, and surprisingly, of lemon cleaner.
After taking care of business, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked the same. Unreadable.
Ever since leaving the house, she felt totally off her game. It all began with the Blackout team, and the women who were there to support them, gathered to see them off. Like they mattered.
She didn’t know what to do with that.
She washed her hands and opened the door.
Sinner turned his head as she stepped out, gaze flicking over her in a way that raised that awareness in her again.
She bristled.
“We need ground rules if we’re going to live together.”
His brow lifted. “Live together.”
“For the mission.” Her voice was sharp as irritation flared. He made their op sound domestic. “We’re sharing a bed and a cover. We can’t afford missteps.”
He turned to face her, gaze steady and too direct. “Okay. Ground rules.”
It almost threw her that he was being reasonable instead of egging her into a fight. He might still be famous at Quantico for knowing how to come out on top, but she was just as gifted, and he was about to find that out.
“We need rules about not hogging the bathroom.”
“All right.”
“And no taking long showers. We both have to get ready in the morning.”
“No problem.”
Thrown a little off-balance by how easy that was, she went to her bag and lifted it onto the luggage rack. She needed an outfit for her new government job tomorrow.
She unzipped her bag and pulled out an outfit, laying it on the bed with care. Simple trousers, a blouse and a blazer. Neutraltones that wouldn’t draw attention. She debated between the boots and high heels, and finally decided she wanted to make a good impression on her first day and chose the heels.
The garments had gotten a little wrinkled in the bag, so she looked around for a complementary iron and ironing board. She located the appliance on the top shelf next to a few extra pillows. She stashed that information in the back of her brain for later—they’d come in handy for building a pillow wall between her and her…husband.
She reached to pull the iron off the shelf, but suddenly, a wall of heat covered her back from the top of her head to her ankles. A long arm shot over her head, and Sinner closed his hand around the pillows.
“I can get it,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m taller.”
“Size doesn’t matter,” she shot out.
His voice pitched low. “No, but sizeandskill really changes the game.”
She whipped around to face him. Which was a huge mistake, because that body heat now washed over herfront. Over her throat, her breasts…her thighs.
He smelled nice too. Like he’d just shaved, or come back from the barber.
She stuck out a hand for the iron, and he handed it over, but not before she saw the slight flaring of his eyes.
As she plugged in the iron, she inwardly groaned. It looked like it had been manufactured during the Reagan administration and stored underwater.
Though it looked dubious and she was worried about ruining her borrowed clothes, she tried it anyway. Steam sputtered, then died, leaving the faint smell of burnt mineral deposits.
