“I want you where I can see you.”
Her jaw clenched, lips tightening to a thin line before she parted them to say, “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Good.” I collected a step, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I don’t babysit. Our job is to keep people alive, so if you’re going to be reckless, tell me now so I can adjust my expectations.”
She stepped forward, our bodies inches apart as she looked up at me, without backing down an inch. “You can expect me to do my job.”
I had only known her for a handful of minutes, but the urge to kiss her berry-stained lips was an unwavering tug in my gut.
“And please refrain from wearing perfume while on duty. It can be distracting to other agents.”
A deep red flush painted her cheeks as her body tensed in anger, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides.
We had a strict policy against fraternizing, and as her superior, I was held to a higher standard. I absolutely could not cross that line. I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and self-control. But this woman was shaking that foundation to its core.
“Our principal is wheels up at oh-three hundred. I want you on my left flank. Got it?”
Her gaze held mine for what felt like an eternity before she finally replied through gritted teeth, “Yes, sir.”
Those two words undid me. Utterly and completely.
Yep, totally fucked.
In the years since, I have often thought about that day and the months that followed. The choices I made, the choices she made—how it all led us here, standing in my kitchen, mere feet apart but worlds away from one another.
She blows on the steaming coffee before taking a tentative sip.
I eye her over the top of my cup. “What?”
“Nothing. Just…”
Her gaze travels leisurely down my bare chest before zeroing in on the imprint of my dick.
She smiles seductively. “Memories.”
I set my cup down and walk out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?” she asks, laughing.
“Shower. You’d better be gone by the time I get out.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she shouts as I slam the door.
I can’t do this. I can’t have her here. It’s stirring too many emotions. I’m over her. I don’t want her.
Stop lying to yourself, asshole.
I brace my hands on the sink, trying to get a hold of myself. How can I trust her after what she did to me? I buried her years ago. Inside every woman I fucked. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. But who am I kidding? None of those women ever even came close to measuring up. They could never replace what I had with Karmen.
I close my eyes, letting go of a long, deep breath. How can I trust myself to be around her when all I want to do is strip her of that fucking suit, yank her hair out of that ponytail, and fuck her until she’s mine again.
I turn on the shower, steam quickly filling the room as I stripand step inside. I take my time washing up, then turn the shower to the coldest setting, praying she’s gone when I get out.
I brush my teeth, then dress in jeans and a T-shirt. When I come back out, she’s sitting at my kitchen table in front of her laptop, tapping away.
Standing beside her, I cross my arms over my chest. “I told you to leave.”
“And I told you I’m not going anywhere,” she says, not looking up from her screen.
My blood heats with anger. “Wanna bet?”
