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“What should I call you?”
“Ms. Black.”
“That’s awfully formal, Ms. Black. Do you really want to scream Maddox when you come?”
She breaks character with a laugh. It’s quick, a second, then she shakes it off.
Back to the aloof spy.
“I don’t wish to scream anything when I come. Screaming will alert our enemies to our location.” She scrapes the carpet with her toes.
“We should be quiet?”
“Of course. Discretion is of primary importance.”
“How much time do we have?”
Her eyes go to the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Not much. My mission commences at the top of the hour.”
“Your mission?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified.”
“But we’re here together. There must be some reason for that.”
“Our missions are aligned?”
I nod.
“Still. I can’t be sure.”
“But you have twenty minutes?”
“At best.”
I cross the room to her. Wrap my fingers around her wrists. Pin her to the wall with my hips.
Fuck, I want her so badly.
We’ve had two perfect days in Paradise. We’ve done every single fucking thing I wanted to do here. She completely ignored my attempts to teach her to surf. Insisted she knew what she was doing, even when she fell down for the fifteenth time. She squealed with delight as she glided down a zip line. We danced under the fucking moonlight.
I press my lips to her neck. “Any weapons I should know about?”
“Besides my wit?”
I break character with a chuckle. “And your charm.”
“What do you think?”
My fingers find the edge of her dress. I trace the slit up her thigh. Then down, over her skin.
She arches her back, shifting her hips against mine.
“A thigh-holster.” My palm curls around her leg. I bring it higher, higher, higher.
“No.” Her breath hitches in her throat. “Not at the moment.”
“How can I trust you?”
