Page 63 of Whistleblower

He tilts his head to the side, showing off the elegant cut angles of his jawline. “I watched you in that interrogation room, and I can’t for the life of me understand why you think you’re weak, Eden.”

Standing upright, he pats the pocket where he pulled out the little camera. “Stay here until I’m done.”

“Wait!” I squeal. He turns around as his eyes pop in surprise. “So, you’re going to put cameras all over my home that I won’t know about?”

“It’s for security. If someone breaks in again…I’ll know who to hunt.” The way his jaw clenches makes me nervous for whoever dropped that note off. By intruding on my personal space, they’ve made an enemy of Linc.

“It seems awfully invasive.”

“I’m not putting cameras in here, Eden. You’ll have privacy in the bathroom. The surveillance is for my eyes only. Neither PALADIN nor anyone in the FBI will have access to it.”

“But they’ll be in the bedroom, right? You’ll be sitting around watching me?”

He chuckles again and my cheeks begin to burn with red-hot embarrassment. “The tapes are for review if something happens…like you find another letter. I won’t be sitting around watching you.” The sexiest smile curls at the corner of his lips as he lifts his brows. “Unless you put on a good show.” Before I can respond, he’s out the door, closing it behind him.

The minute he’s out of sight, I leap up off the toilet seat and look in the mirror. Holy shit, Eden! Bad, this is bad. I realize I haven’t looked at myself since Linc’s tongue was between my thighs at Martinis, but I look beyond ragged. My hair is frizzy, my cheeks look blotchy. My eye makeup is so smeared I look like a raccoon.

I quickly go to work, the way every single woman is equipped to in an I wasn’t expecting to get laid emergency situation. I squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on my tongue and swash it around furiously before quickly rinsing. Pumping a few drops of smoothing serum in my palm, I try to calm my flyaway hairs and cover up my dry ends. Screw it—there’s no time to fix my eye makeup. I grab a cleansing wipe and clean the smudges under my eyes. I settle for a quick brush of finishing powder all over my face—my fancy one which smells faintly like sweet roses. Looking in the mirror, the finished product really isn’t that much better. Geez. I just look so tired, my cheeks are sunken in. I probably have less than two minutes before Linc comes back. What the hell can I—oh.

I open the smallest drawer of the bathroom vanity where I store all the makeup I never use. I find the cherry red lipstick that Vesper’s picture reminded me of all those weeks ago at the diner with Callen. Bold. I want to be bold right now. Twisting the silver tube, the bright red lipstick emerges looking like a neon police siren. I snort at myself. There’s no way I can pull this color off, but I force myself to drag the balm over my bottom lip, then my top. When I’m finished, I have to resist the urge to immediately wipe it off.

It's not that it looks bad, I just look…noticeable. For the past year, I’ve been trying to slip under the radar, but Linc makes me want to be seen. No, don’t take it off. Another coat.

I’m lifting the lipstick back to my mouth when Linc startles me, abruptly busting back through the bathroom door. I toss the tube out of surprise and with near perfect accuracy it flies right to him. Linc snatches it out of the air before it drops to the floor, unintentionally showing off his superior reflexes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking at me through the mirror.

Dammit. I exhale. He just installed cameras in your home, what do you honestly think you can hide from him now? “I was trying to fix up a bit for you.”

“Really?” he asks as he swaggers over to me and sets the lipstick upright on the bathroom counter. “Well, I’m finished.”

“Are you staying?”

“Of course. Unless you changed your mind?”

Instead of answering, I spin around and cup the space beneath his belt. Immediately I feel his erection grow. Just a touch, that’s all it takes.

“Mmm,” he moans. “Okay, let’s talk.”

“Talk? No, thank you,” I sass, rubbing my hand along his growing length, getting a little nervous I may have bitten off more than I can chew. I copped a feel at Martinis, but I’m realizing now I barely scratched the surface. Of course a sexy, brooding, manly man, who’s only sweet to me, and calls me things like “precious” while holding my hand, has a mammoth-sized dick—because obviously I’ve fallen into Wonderland and dreams must be real.

“Eden,” he growls, collecting my hand and handing it back. “Let’s talk.”

Pouting, I cross my arms and lean back against the vanity. “About what?”

“What you said at Martinis. How you like it rough—”

“I said I like you in control.”

“Whatever you want to call it, I need to make some things clear. Rule number one—I refuse to hurt you. Nothing that bruises you, marks your skin or makes you bleed. Do you understand? I know the impression you have of me, but I don’t get pleasure from inflicting pain on anyone. And the thought of you hurting is the biggest turn-off in the world to me.”

“Okay,” I whisper, swallowing back my tongue before something crazy like I think I love you, accidentally slips through.

“That being said, explain this control thing to me. What do you like?”

The ache immediately awakens. The idea of sex with Linc? So damn hot. Talking about sex with Linc? Someone save me, I’m already gone.

“I know it’s weird.”

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