Page 50 of Covert Mission

To hell with manners, I’m too damned hungry. I knock one of the corn wrappers off of dinner and shove a whole tamale in my mouth.

With rounded eyes, she clutches her throat. She makes a little sound.

I chew and watch her watch me. Her disbelief is cute.

Dammit, here I go again with the cute antics.

I push one of the tamales her way. “There. Dive in before they get cold. You don’t have to eat it all in one bite.”

After a wry chuckle, she concedes and pulls it toward her. “Thank god I don’t have to imitate that party trick. You must be part large-mouth bass.”

I tilt my head. “Where are you from?”

“Just somewhere in the country.”

“Where?”

“The very tip of Virginia. Not the northern tip. The tiny one in the Appalachian mountains.”

After she says this, she looks very uncomfortable. Like maybe she let too much slip.

I lean in and rest my forearms on the table, filled with curiosity. “FamFind is based in D.C. So, you’re the country girl that left to go to the city for a job, huh?”

She pics at the tamale with the tip of one finger. “Something like that.”

I grab her hand and wrap it around the damned thing. “Eat, for fuck’s sake. You don’t have to act all dainty around me.”

She instantly blushes.

Awareness hits me as I stare at our combined hands wrapped around the food. Heat burns at the base of my cock.

I almost choke on my own tongue. The air is missing when I try to inhale. What’s left is pulsing with electric tension.

With the food just inches from her mouth, she skewers me with her disapproval. “I wasn’t acting all dainty.”

“Then own that fucking thing.”

And god, does she. She makes a little growly sound and chomps onto it, dangerously close to my fingers.

Shiiiiiit.

I swallow a growl. If she was any hotter, my cargo pants would go up in flames.

But I know I’m in trouble when her eyes close and she moans.

What was I thinking?

Can I fuck myself any harder?

I should have let her eat a damned granola bar. She wouldn’t have been moaning about compressed oat shit with dried twigs and berries.

Nope, I did it. Now I get to watch her eyes drift closed as a little smile curves her lips. Her murmured, “So good,” is husky and sexy as fuck.

When I let go of her hand, the remaining part of her tamale falls onto the table with a thud.

She snatches it up and gobbles it down. Messily devouring the rest.

I almost have a cardiac arrest on the spot.

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