Page 56 of Covert Mission

I rise from the chair and carry her the short distance to the bed. She sighs in pleasure as I stretch her out.

That sound…

I clench my abs in an effort to extinguish the fire that’s building in my groin.

As I lean over her to settle her in, her fingers brush my cheek. “I wanted to see what your scruff feels like.”

I… I can’t inhale.

Couldn’t speak if I had to.

A rumble in my chest is my only reply.

But when she strokes her hand over my jaw, and down the cords of my neck, that rumble in me morphs into a choked moan.

“So strong.”

No. I’mweak.

Fucking weak as a teenage boy.

I close my eyes as I fight for control. I mastered the domain of my arousal years ago. But Camile’s touch is too much.

My pulse goes haywire.

That wandering hand slides up the back of my neck and into my hair.

I exhale slowly and soak in the sensations of her touch. A meteor strike would have less impact.

Electricity zings through my nerves. My skin goosebumps from my scalp to my collarbone. A rush of blood lengthens my cock.

I want to lean in. I want to run out the door. I want to…

My moan turns ragged. It’s more of an animalistic growl than anything else.

Camile teases the hair at the nape of my neck. “Your hair is so thick and soft. I love the color too, it’s like the darkest night sky.”

A shudder beats its way through me.

She frames my face with both hands. My eyes snap open. Something acute pulses inside of my bones. It’s more than an ache, it’s a howling wind, scorching the barren lands inside my soul.

“Careful, beautiful. I’m hanging by a thread.”

“Maybe we both need this.”

I can’t risk the consequences.

Annihilation.

The edge of a cliff begging me closer.

Haunted places locked deep inside me that should never be breached.

My words come out gruff. “We would cross a line we shouldn’t cross. We’re both working. We have two very important missions. We’re riding high on a flash fire of chemistry, adrenaline, and fatigue.”

Her expression softens, and a look of embarrassment fills her gaze. “No, you’re right.”

But her fingers don’t stop. She watches them trace a line on my cheek. Her next words are whisper soft. “It was folly. I don’t know why I touched you.”

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