I clench my jaw, focusing back on the situation at hand. "What?"
He leans back, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You were saying?"
I force the conversation back on track, shutting down any attempt he makes to needle me. But damn it, Elena’s still in my head, twisting me up inside. Even in the middle of this impending war, she’s all I can think about.
And that’s a dangerous distraction I can’t afford.
It's late, and the mansion’s quiet, save for the low hum of the TV. I’ve been flipping through channels for hours, but nothing holds my attention.
I drum my fingers on the table, feeling the tension gnawing at me. She’s somewhere in this house, probably asleep by now, andthe thought of her wrapped up in her sheets does something to me I can’t shake. I get up, frustrated, and head to the kitchen. I realize I haven’t eaten since the morning. Maybe some food will help clear my head.
But when I walk in, Elena’s there.
She’s standing at the counter, her back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a sleeveless shirt. The kind of outfit that hints at every curve I’ve already felt under my hands. My gut tightens.
She turns, smirking when she sees me. "Midnight snack, huh? You must be famished if it was enough to interrupt your beauty sleep.”
I give it right back. "Seems like you're doing the same. Guess we both need more than beauty sleep."
She laughs softly and nods at the counter. "I’m making a sandwich. Want one?"
"Yeah, that sounds nice."
I lean against the doorway, watching her as she turns back to the food.
As she moves, my eyes trace every inch of her—those shorts, the smooth line of her legs, the curve of her hips. My grip tightens on the doorframe, the need to touch her rising like a storm I can’t control.
"Anything new on the cartel? The attack?" she asks, keeping her back to me as she works.
I grunt. "Nothing you haven’t already heard."
I lean back, crossing my arms, watching her. She moves effortlessly, but I can tell something’s on her mind.
"How about you? Your online efforts turn up anything useful?"
She sighs, turning to face me, two plates in hand. My eyes dart down. Her nipples are hard, tenting the thin fabric of her shirt, and it takes everything in me to keep my hands to myself.
"Nothing useful. These cartel guys... they’re old-school. No fancy tech for me to hack into. Makes things hard when computers are your expertise."
She hands me a plate as she lets out a soft sigh.
"What’s going on?"
She looks at me, her expression conflicted. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did at the hospital."
I laugh. "That’s my job."
She smiles. "I know it’s your job, but it’s more than a paycheck. You put your life on the line for me every day. And I appreciate it. Really."
With that, she turns to set her plate on the counter, dropping a napkin in the process, cursing under her breath.
My eyes track her every movement as she bends down to pick it up. When she does, her shorts ride up just enough to reveal that she's not wearing anything underneath. My cock pulses, hard and urgent, a wild heat sparking in my veins. I grip the counter tighter, fighting the urge to close the distance between us, but it’s useless. I feel like an animal.
She straightens and turns to face me. Her eyes flicker with curiosity, like she knows something’s shifted.
“What’s up?”
I set my plate down, stepping forward with purpose. “I’d rather show you than tell you.”