I roll over, bury my face in the pillow, and groan.
Lina Renee Kane. You have a goddamn Nobel Peace Prize. You solved world crises, stared down egomaniacs. You cannot fall apart over a man.
But he’s not just any man… He’sLevi. And I’ve spent fucking years watching him from afar, building this ridiculous fantasy in my head, telling myself it was just a harmless crush. Something to keep me warm on my long, cold, lonely nights. A little guilty pleasure that didn’t mean anything. Could do no harm.
And then I met him. And that man is so muchbetterthan the fantasy. He’s funny, sharp, sexy, fucking intense. And the way he looks at me, like I’m the only person in any room, like he can see past all the armor I wear and wants what’s underneath…
Stop. You need to stop!
But I can’t. I can still taste him. Mint and something darker, headier, fucking addictive. I can still feel the scrape of his beard against my skin. The press of his body, big, tall, hard, and warm… And how amazing he smelled. Fuck me.
That man kissed me like I was his. And the terrifying part is that I want to be his…
* * *
I don’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back on that balcony. With Levi’s hands on me. His mouth on me. The soundshe made when I moaned against his lips.
By the time morning comes, I’m a fucking wreck. I drag myself through my routine: shower, makeup, tailored suit… trying to look like a functioning human being.
You’re fine. No one knows. It wasdark;you were alone, Agent Torres didn’t see anything.
Except for the part where you came back to dinner with swollen lips and couldn’t form coherent sentences for the rest of the night.
I wince.
Yeah. Someone definitely noticed.
Simone is waiting for me in my office, tablet in hand, running through the day’s schedule. I nod along, barely hearing a word.
“…and at two, you have the call with…” She pauses. “Ma’am?”
I blink. “Sorry. What?”
She gives me a look. That look. The one that saysI know something happened and I’m just waiting for you to tell me.
“Late night?” She asks, way too casually.
I nod briefly. “State dinners always run long.”
“Mm-hmm.” She taps her tablet. “You seemed distracted toward the end. Everything okay?”
I made out with the national team’s head coach on the balcony and ruined my underwear.
I nod again. I’m about to turn into a damn rag-doll. “Fine. Just tired.”
“Right.” She doesn’t believe me for a second. “Well, Coach Hendricks certainly cleaned up nicely last night.”
My heart stops, but I keep my expression neutral, years of practice. But Simone’s smirk tells me I’m not fooling anyone.
I look away. “Did he?”
“Mm-hmm. Very handsome. Distinguished. That silver fox thing he has going on really works for him.” She’s enjoying this way too much. “I noticed you two had a nice conversation.”
“We spoke briefly.”
Shea adds, “On the balcony.”
Oh shit.
