Page 19 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

One of Vincent's brows slowly lifts, like he’s surprised by what I said. "Have I kept you waiting?"

He's joking, right? "I reached out to you six months ago, so yeah, I'd say you've kept me waiting." I'm not mad, just irritated. Bothered enough by the fact he ignored me for so long that my nerves calm just a little. "I assumed you decided you didn't want to take me up on my offer."

Vincent huffs out a breath that might be his version of a laugh. "Is that what you believed that was? An offer?"

Now he’s starting to annoy me, which is probably best because it's curbing that arousal I was struggling with. "It was an offer, Vincent. A fuckinggood one too."

His cool gaze moves over me. "You sound offended I didn't hire you."

"Not offended." I lift and drop one shoulder in a shrug. "Just questioning your judgment."

I think I'm stupid. These are not words that should be coming out of my mouth. I want to work for GHOST, but more than that I don't want to die. It briefly crosses my mind that arguing with someone who's killed more people than I've probably met might put me on the fast track to meeting my maker.

Vincent steps closer, his movements unhurried. "Speaking of questionable judgment." His expression hardens as he continues closing in on me. "What the fuck possessed you to track my phone?"

Right now, I'd say insanity. That seems like the wrong answer to give him, so I settle on the reasoning I used when I made the program. "I did it to prove I could."

"Interesting." He stops right in front of me, his body so close it's nearly touching mine. The proximity forces me to tip my head back to keep my eyes on his. "And how do you think that worked out for you?"

Sweet baby Jesus he smells good—exactly like that card he left on my counter last night—and it makes my brain trip over itself. "What?"

Before I even see it coming, Vincent's hand shoots up between us to circle my throat. It's not tight enough to cut off my airway, but his firm hold does have me frozen in surprise. His other hand grips my hip, the tips of his fingers sinking into the softness I taught myself to appreciate as he shoves me backwards.

It takes everything I have to stay on my feet as we move. I’m so focused on not falling, I don’tpay attention to where we are, and I suck in a sharp breath of surprise when my back hits the wall. Vincent doesn’t give me time to even blink before he presses closer, the hand at my throat tightening the smallest bit as he leans into my ear.

"I said,how do you think that worked out for you?" He says the words slowly, enunciating each one like he wants to be sure I don’t miss them again.

I know it should sound menacing. Threatening. But all I can think about is that I'm currently pinned against the wall by the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. And, factoring in the hard press of his dick against my belly, he's not hating the situation either. I'm practically panting at this point, and the only thing keeping me from melting into a pile of goo at his feet is the grip he has on my hip and throat. I lick my lips, watching as his gaze locks in on the movement and stays as I offer my answer.

"Right now, I’d say it worked out pretty well."

7

ACCURACY MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE

VINCENT

THIS WAS A terrible fucking idea.

I know I need to let her go. Need to walk out now. If for no other reason than my own sanity.

But I can't. Not yet.

I have to do what I came here to do. Walking away will only let Julieanne see the power she holds over me. But standing here with her soft skin under my hands, dick so hard it's aching where it presses against the curve of her belly, isn’t much better of an option.

So I’ve got to make this quick. Got to do what needs done and then get the fuck away from her before I go too far.

"I'm not hiring you." It's easier to say than I expect. Probably because it's true regardless of how I look at the situation. It's clearer than ever that I can't be around this woman. Not in any capacity.

Julieanne’s brows pinch together, her dark gaze still fixed on mine. "Then why are you here?"

Her pulse is racing under my thumb, beating as wildlyas my own. But she's not struggling or pushing me away, so it's not fear driving her skyrocketing heart rate.

I should pretend I don't know what’s affecting her, but I do. Because it’s the same thing affecting me. I've been fighting it since the first time I saw her face. Pretending she didn't pull me in. Even when I fucked my fist to the memory of her voice, I convinced myself it wasn't happening.

But standing here, pressed against her softness, I can't ignore how much I want her. How desperate I am to have another of her smiles directed my way.

"I should have come here to kill you. No one gets away with doing what you did." It’s not a full-on lie. Technically no one's ever accomplished what she did, so there's been no precedent set. And it wouldn’t matter if there was. I'm still clinging to the hope I can scare her. Change the way she's looking at me. So I can walk away without looking back.

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