Page 18 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

I spend the next few hours at my computer, digging through piles of code and finding my way into places I should not be. But that's what Vincent needs me for, and I want to show him just how capable I am.

By the time I'm finished, my back is stiff and my vision is blurry, but Vincent will have a nice surprise when he tries to log back into GHOST’s system. Before standing, I pull up my Vincent dot and discover he's found himself a new hiding spot. Now, instead of being across the parking lot, he's behind my townhome.

I stand and use my cell phone to snap a picture of the screen, carrying it with me as I walk into my bedroom. If I'm going in on this, I might as well go all in.

Walking to the sliding glass door, I stare out into the darkness, but it's tricky to make out anything too specific. Resting one hand on the glass, I lift my phone, trying to orient myself a little better so I can determine the exact spot he's hiding. After a few more minutes of squinting, trying to let my eyes adjust, I find a small collection of trees and ornamental bushes edging one side of the retention pond. That makes sense. It would give him a little cover from the wind and snow, but make him believe no one could see him.

But I don't have to see Vincent to know where he is.

I lower my cell phone, keeping my eyes glued to the spot. Slowly, I curl the fingers of the hand against the glass and give him a little wave.

It's a ballsy move and makes me look a hell of a lot braver than I actually am. Especially considering I'm really regretting not stopping in the bathroom before coming in here. Now, I've got a trifecta of warring sensations wrestling through my insides. Fear. Excitement. Arousal.

And the increasingly urgent need to pee.

"Shitty shit." Pushing two kids out of my babymaker made me less trusting of my ability to not wet my pants, especially if an activity involves jumping or sneezing. Or running. And, given the circumstances, I might end up needing to run.

Hopefully, it takes Vincent a couple of minutes to figure out how to get into my house, because I'm not risking it. I want him to think I can be a competent member of his team, and peeing on his boots would spoil that illusion.

Not that masturbating in front of a window is much better, but what’s done is done.

Spinning away, I race into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, or, honestly, wash my hands. I’m breathing heavy when I run back into my room, but it’s worth it when I see a very big, very agitated-looking Vincent standing on my balcony.

Definitely would have wet my pants if there was anything in there to come out.

My breathing only gets faster as I stand there staring at him, my whole body lighting up at the intensity in his gaze. No one’s ever looked at me like this, and I’m not sureif it’s because he’s impressed or considering throwing me over the balcony.

It will be the latter when he gets back to his computer.

But whoever made me got my wiring all wrong, because even in this moment my nipples are pulling tight and my thighs are clenching. I think I must just love danger. That’s probably why this man has taken a front seat in all my fantasies since we met. He is danger incarnate.

With a capital fucking D.

When Vincent reaches for the handle, I know I should step back, try to put more distance between us, but I don’t. I did this on purpose. This is what I wanted. What I asked for.

I still feel a little sick.

The door slides open easily. I never lock it because who’s going to climb onto a second-floor balcony to get into my bedroom?

I have my answer when his boot crosses the threshold, and I’m a little impressed that the second man to grace my private space is this one.

Go me.

I swallow hard when Vincent takes another step, bringing his tall frame completely inside. I know he's been here before, but this is the first time I've been here to witness it, and it's a little surreal. I spent the last six months thinking of—possibly obsessing over—him, and the six months before that figuring out how to get his attention.

Initially, my goal was getting a job offer. But after talking to him, that morphed into something a little bit less business appropriate.

And looking at him now, I can't imagine any other outcome. He's breathtaking. Literally. I can't fucking breathe.

It's not just how he looks, though that is pretty fucking spectacular, it's how he carries himself. The way his commanding presence sucks all the air out of a room, leaving you gasping.

Or maybe that's just me.

Vincent holds my gaze as he slides the door closed, flipping the lock I never use into place. "You should lock your doors, Julieanne. You never know who might come walking in."

Holy hell, his voice is even sexier in person. Deep and distracting, which is not a good combination considering I'm trying to prove myself capable.

I force my spine straighter, lifting my chin so I look braver than I really am. "I knew exactly who would come walking in." I resist the urge to fidget with the fabric of my dress. "You just took longer than I expected."

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