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“When are you publishing?”
“It’s just for fun.”
“Screw that. Publish. I’ll make you a company.”
“You can’t make me a company.”
“It’s easy. Register in Panama. Get you some offshore accounts and never tell the guys you’re a gaming tycoon.”
He snorts. “I’d sell five copies. One to each of you.”
“We’ll see.” I pull open my laptop, and he’s so focused between his laptop and his phone, he doesn’t notice me taking a break from spreadsheets.
It’ll be a surprise for later.
We spend the whole day curled up in my bed, quietly working. Every so often, Orion hooks my ankle with a foot or smooths back my hair. Even more often, I nuzzle into his side.
It’s the most peaceful, perfect day of my life.
I email Hunter and Jett a spreadsheet with what I’ve found. No smoking gun yet, but more leads to run down.
Dominik just needs to make one mistake.
Eventually, Orion closes his computer, taking a long stretch that flashes his tight stomach. “This has been the best day, but we have to get ready for tonight. Hunter’s gonna pick us up.”
“We didn’t do anything,” I mumble, disappointed when his shirt falls back in place.
“This is my everyday when they’re gone. Only, I’m always so ratcheted up, I’m climbing walls. Having you is fucking heaven.”
The words squeeze the softest part of my heart.
My days are the same.
Alone. Hiding and fighting, but always alone. “Won’t they let you back on missions? Your hormones seem—”
“Finally not insane? Yeah. I’m much more level after that last heat. But that’s not entirely why I was grounded.”
“Why?”
“I’ve fucked up more than one mission, and there are better agents than me to take the role. Agents who want to be agents and didn’t learn black ops just to fit in with their friends.”
He needs a hug.
I pull his computer out of the way and climb into his lap, snuggling until our foreheads bump. “You fit in with me.”
“Lilah.” He wraps my waist, tugging me closer.
“Orion.” I stare into his blue, blue eyes, tasting apple even though our lips don’t touch. My fingers find their way into his sun-kissed hair, and I scratch his scalp until he purrs.
My heart and throat tighten, but I force myself to speak. “What are we?”
“House cats.”
My lips fall open. “What?”
“House cats,” he insists. “Kinda cranky and cuddly and we’ll fuck shit up if you leave us alone too long.”
“That’s not what I mean. What—”
