Page 23 of Trigger Happy Ending

Raine kneels on the lounge seat next to me and braces each hand around either side of my head. She leans in, her pretty face right next to mine. Up close, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. Flawless skin, cheekbones for days, and lips so full I want to sink my teeth into them.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Raine’s sweet voice melts onto my lips.

God, she smells as good as she looks too. Buttery vanilla wraps itself around me.

I raise my eyes to hers just as she slowly drops her lips onto mine.

Time stops.

She kisses me, and I break. A thousand volts of electricity zip and zag throughout my body, the current running to one place and one place only. My release tears from me, a low growl into her mouth as she slides her luscious tongue against mine. The air rips from my lungs as I drown in her kiss.

She pulls away and drags her tongue up my cheek.

I have no idea what my name is; I’m in a daze.

Raine hops off the seat and steps back, hands on hips, surveying her work.

Nadine falls back onto her ass, stumbling away, flustered. “What the hell was that?”

I remain silent, mainly because my fucking brain is glitching, and that seems like the hardest question in the world right now. Confusion reigns as I hurry to fix myself back into my jeans.

“A powerful lesson,” Raine responds icily, eyes still on me.

“For who?” Nadine asks, wiping her mouth.

“Not you.” Raine’s smile is razor-sharp as she looks at Nadine with pity. “Even though I know you learned a thing or two.”

Nadine’s jaw hangs open before she rises. She steadies herself, cheeks crimson red, likely from the embarrassment of being played for a fool. She scurries off to the back of the plane, while I sit there, chest heaving, still tasting Raine’s kiss, still drowning in her scent.

She played me like a bitch.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” I murmur, watching as Raine sits back down in her seat, fixing her headphones on.

“You love it.”

Adrenaline courses through my body.

She’s right.

I think I might.

Chapter 11

Raine

New York greets us with cloudy skies and cool air. The jet touches down on one of the Agency’s private strips outside the city, and we’re funneled straight into a blacked-out Sprinter waiting on the tarmac.

Soren hasn’t said a word. The only rhythm in the van is the occasional swipe of windshield wipers against the windscreen.

“Can you turn on the radio?” I ask the driver. A few moments later, a smooth voice broadcasts a traffic update from the speakers. Better than nothing. I can’t stand the silence.

Soren sits beside me, simmering, legs bouncing, clutching his torn and tattered notebook. His restlessness tells me all I need to know. He’s replaying what happened on the jet. The truth is I’m replaying a portion of it too. I didn’t plan on kissing him. But his lips are unfair. I wanted him to lose control, to feel how I was feeling.

That’s the thing about me.

My real weapon is my mind. I can make people believe anything, make them see what they want to see. Men, especially, are easy to manipulate. It’s a look held a little too long. A soft laugh at the right moment. Feed them the illusion they’re in control and watch them die inside when they realize they’re not.

I wonder if Soren understands now. That his new partner is not only highly skilled in warfare, but psychological warfare. I mean, he got the full demonstration on the plane. I know it’s harsh. Maybe I am mean-spirited. But you have to understand, I only ever see the worst of men. Gangsters, sadists, predators … even Agent O. I deal with the worst of the worst all the fucking time.