Page 23 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

I'm putting my razor away and rinsing off the remaining body wash when the shower curtain’s whipped back, the sudden move and the cold air making me yelp.

Vincent glares in at me, but the hardness in his gaze heats as his eyes drag down my wet body. After slowly sweeping me from head to toe, he refocuses on my face. "I changed my mind."

I blink at him, trying to figure out what in the hell he's talking about. "About what?"

"I am going to kill you after all." He steps back. "Get out."

He's back to trying to be scary, but as I’m almost positive he won't actually hurt me, his commanding tone affects me in a different way than I'm sure he intends. All those two-round nights with the contents of my self-care drawer have given my lady parts high expectations.

I shut off the water and step out ontothe mat, shoulders back, head high, as unbothered as I look. I was ashamed of my body for a very long time. I spent years believing men liked teeny tiny skinny women and that being on the thicker side made me less valuable. Less desirable. Then I got divorced and joined a dating app and discovered nothing could have been farther from the truth.

I’ve learned to love my body, so I don't try to cover any of it as I stand in front of Vincent, daring him to look away. "I guess it's a good thing I was finished then."

"It wouldn't fucking matter if you were finished or not." Vincent whips one of the towels from the bar and flings it around my shoulders, wrapping me tight. "Fix it."

I bat my eyes at him, trying to look innocent. "Fix what?"

He leans down, nearly coming nose to nose with me. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Angel Face. You're not stupid. Don't pretend to be. It's beneath you."

That might be the most genuine compliment a man has ever paid me, and flattery will apparently get him everywhere. That's why I shimmy the towel lower, wrapping it around my chest and tucking it into place before offering a smile. "Fine." I start to move past him but pause, lifting my eyes back to his face. "On one condition."

Vincent scowls and there's something almost adorable about the expression, but that might be the post orgasm glow talking. "We're way past bargaining, Jules. That ship has sailed."

I lift one shoulder and let it drop. "Okay then." I walk out of the bathroom, but instead of going to my office I head straight for my bedroom. I take a few steps in and drop my towel to the floor. If he doesn't want to hire me, that's fine, but if he thinks he’s going to come in here andbe a pain in my ass, then he better be ready for me to return the favor.

Seems like good sex makes me brave.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jules." Vincent storms past me, going straight to the doors leading to the balcony where he grabs the vertical blinds and drags them into place, spinning the tilt stick until they lay flat, blocking the view outside. Or the view inside, depending on which side of the glass you're on. He spins to face me, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. "How are you still alive?"

I scoff, a little offended. "Me?" I point at him. "How areyoustill alive? You do shit way more dangerous than leaving a window open."

Vincent crowds me, coming closer so fast I don’t have time to back up.

Not that I would.

“Don’t act like all you did was leave a window open, Jules. You laid in front of it and showed everyone within a mile radius how you look when you come.” He brings the hard line of his body against mine, the soft fabric of his fitted t-shirt brushing against my stiff nipples. “And it better not fucking happen again.”

Why are his threats so freaking hot? "Or what?"

I expect him to make some other threat about showing me how scary he is because he's such a bad, bad man, but then Vincent’s hand snaps up, his fingers tangling in my wet hair as he jerks my head back. "Or I will have to hunt down every man stupid enough to look so I can carve his eyeballs out of his head."

That doesn't sound like an empty threat. I know what it sounds like when Vincent makes empty threats. He'sthrown quite a few of them at me recently. But right now he sounds serious.

I swallow hard because, shocker, his real threats also turn me on. "That sounds messy."

"It is, and I'd prefer to not have to buy a washer and dryer while I'm here." His lips hover just above mine. "So no more leaving your windows open. Got it?"

I try to nod, but he's holding my hair so tight I can't move. "Got it."

"I'll know if you do, Angel Face." His head barely shakes. "And you don't want to make me come back here again."

Yes, the fuck I do.

His eyes trail down the line of my arched neck before dipping to where my boobs are rubbing against his chest. "And for the love of God, put some fucking clothes on." He releases me and storms away. "I'll meet you in your office."

I stand there for a few seconds, trying to recover from the closeness of his body and the arousing hair pull.

"Don't make me fucking wait, Angel Face."

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