Page 14 of Forget Me Twice

Six weeks to profile over a thousand people?

One school year to recruit 300-odd new Suits, including a handful of baby Aces?

The lives of my team and I on the metaphorical line?

Piece of fucking cake.

“Give us a spin, Ms. Winters.”

I let out an amused huff at the sultry tones, though it’s not enough to interrupt my close inspection of the full-length reflection before me.

Despite still enjoying his post-coital bliss, the man isalwaysup for another round. I swear, his refractory period is practically non-existent. I blow him a flirty little kiss instead, shooting a graceful middle finger over the shoulder as I do.

“No,Mr.Orbison, I look cute as fuck right now, and I’m not having you mess up my shit just to indulge your school-girl fantasy.”

There’s no need to turn around in order to catch his reaction. Thanks to the mirror, I have an uninterrupted view of all six feet of sin incarnate, stretched out as he is behind me.

Rhett is propped up lazily against the pile of pillows on my new dorm’s king-size bed, watching me with heavily-lidded eyes as I check over my finished outfit. The muscles in his arms look obscene with the way he has them casually folded behind his head, and his dirty-blond hair is still deliciously sex-mussed. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and his trademark playboy grin.

He gives me a husky chuckle in return, one tattooed bicep flexing deliciously as he catches my air-kiss. That grin is all self-satisfaction, his perusal of my tailored Academy uniform blatant and heated. When he catches me looking back at him, he just slips a hand down the front of his sweats and squeezes the growing bulge there.

“Mmm, is your homework ready for hand-in, Ms. Winters?” he purrs. “Don’t make me give you detention.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out at his teasing. I really needed his levity this morning. The ogle-worthy view that’s currently on offer as he reclines lazily on my bed ain’t half bad either.

“Nice try, but you so much astoucha hair on this head, and I will key the Lambo,” I warn him, only half joking, but trying to keep my lips from breaking out into a full smirk. Rhett’s lime green Lamborghini Aventador is one of the only things he enjoys about living down here. To him it was worth the tongue-lashing he received from the Senior Council formisappropriation of funds during a field tenure. He wouldn’t hesitate to maim a man if they so much as looked sideways at his new baby.

In fact, I’m pretty sure he has.

“Oh,sweetcheeks. I’d be making you stay after class for an entire month for that one,” Rhett growls. He sits up, abdomen rippling, his forearms coming to rest on his knees. His gaze is now anything but easy-going or playful. Now, it’s promising me some form of corporal punishment.

“Don’t give me those bedroom eyes, Orbison, I’m serious. Hands off.” I focus back on my outfit, twisting to one side. Today’s impression has to be perfect. It’s my first day as both Front Man and Roxborough senior.

Six weeks, two dozen cartons of energy drinks, 1000-odd personnel researched and vetted, and I am now officially ready to kick offOperation: Rox Academy.

I run a French-tipped hand down one crisp lapel as I turn back towards the mirror. The gold-trimmed, navy blue blazer fits well and sits nicely over the standard-issue white blouse and matching navy pleated skirt. Both blazer and blouse are embroidered with the Academy’s trident logo. The uniform also includes dark knee-high socks paired with black pumps.

No wonder Rhett’s drooling. I wasn’t lying when I said I thought the whole outfit was cute as fuck, so I’ve polished off the look by pinning up my chest-length hair with a retro flair. The sweeping hairstyle shows off my prominent scar, but the thing is impossible to hide even with makeup, so I’m just rolling with it.

My lips are ruby red, my nails are a midnight blue and my winged eyeliner is sharp enough to draw blood.

I’ve got my warpaint on.

I’m ready for the inevitable stares, glares and strange looks that being the new kid brings. My piercings and tattoos aren’t immediately visible, so I’m confident I can pass as an average Academy student.

Yeah.I think I’m finally ready to press play on this whole ordeal.

Oops. I meancampaign.

When I look back up, Rhett is no longer lying across my pillows. He’s standing directly behind me, his olive-green eyes following a searing path up my legs in the reflection before us. “Don’t you—” I start to say before his large, tattooed fingers land on the backs of my thighs, tracing the hem of my skirt.

His voice is low and raspy. “Shh, baby girl. You said don’t touch a hair on yourhead. I won’t mess up this sexy as fuck school-girl look you’ve got going on, I promise.” His gaze drags up past my hips, to my small tits and finally locks onto my own. “I just need a moment under this fucking skirt,” he groans. “Please.”

And then he’s on his knees.

All I can see now are his thick, muscular thighs straining his gray joggers as he spreads them, sliding a knee to either side of my ankles. He must be close to eye level with the bottom of my short skirt, which is definitely not at regulation length. His hot breath skitters across my skin and a fizz of excitement runs up the backs of my legs to the base of my spine. It simmers low and deliciously in my pelvis.

Rhett gently grabs my hem between two fingers and slides it slowly up and over my ass, dragging my blazer with it.

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