Page 42 of Untamed Sinner

Hell—no one cooks in my kitchen. Yesterday, this room was nothing more than a refueling station. This morning, it smells like coffee, sugar, and her shampoo.

I’m befuddled, and it has nothing to do with a lack of caffeine.

I should say something that brings us back to our objective. Instead, I'm cataloging the way the morning light catches in her hair, the way her legs look in my shirt, the fact that I can see the outline of her body through the cotton.

She's not wearing anything underneath.

"Coffee's ready," she says, turning fully now.

That's when I see it.

The shirt is unbuttoned just enough that when she moves, I can see the curve of her breast, the edge of a rosy nipple. She doesn't adjust the fabric—she doesn't cover herself. She just stands there holding a spatula, watching me with those sharp hazel eyes that notice everything.

I know what her nipples look like when she’s turned on, but I want to know how they taste. I've never wanted to put something in my mouth more in my entire life.

"Hendricks?"

I force my gaze up to her face. "Yeah."

She bats her eyelashes like she’s innocent. "You going to stand there all morning, or are you going to eat?"

Fuck me.

Before I can formulate a response, there's a knock at the door.

Mandy's hand moves toward the knife block as I cross the kitchen. "Stay here," I tell her, pulling out my phone to check the security feed.

The app opens, and I see Luke Bennett on my porch, hands in his pockets, looking straight into the camera with his canary-eating grin.

Fuck. His timing is impeccable, of course.

My first instinct is tactical: warn Mandy, get her upstairs, give her time to put on clothes before Luke sees her standing in my kitchen wearing nothing but my unbuttoned shirt.

But then I remember the bra conversation. She set that boundary hard—she doesn't take orders about what she wears. If I go back in there and tell her to cover up, she'll push back—or worse, she'll know I'm rattled. That I care what Luke sees.

And I do care. I care in a way that's dark and possessive and completely irrational. Luke’s my ally and I’d still rather shoot him than let him see her half-naked.

So I make a different choice. I won't warn her. I’ll let it happen, because the choice is hers. I don’t like it, and if Luke makes a wrong move, he’ll have me to answer to.

I open the door. "Bennett."

"Hendricks." Grinning, he pretends to look around. "Nice place. Yours?"

He knows damn well it’s mine. I can’t decide whether I’m annoyed or impressed he discovered it. “How did you find me?”

"Mason tracked you from Turner's house last night. Blackthorn still has surveillance around the compound. We saw you and Mandy going in." He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. “You going to invite me in?”

I’m tempted to say no and close the door on him, but Luke’s one of the few men I trust. Besides, the smug bastard already knows he’s getting in. I can see it in his grin. “Coffee?”

“Yeah.” He follows me to the kitchen, slowing down in the doorway when he sees Mandy.

I watch his eyes land on her and process the scene—the gray shirt, the bare legs, the way the fabric gapes at the collar. I see the exact moment he registers what she's wearing and what she's not wearing.

I make a deliberate shift in my stance that puts me between them, my body angled to block his view. It's calculated. Intentional. A statement made without words.

His eyes flick from Mandy to me. He takes in the tension in my shoulders, the way I'm positioned, the fact that it’s absolutely clear through every line of my body that she has me on the ropes.

He knows.