Page 37 of Operation Heartbeat

He stared down at her for a beat, trying to force his mind to follow what she’d said about a dress when all he could see was that silly black swimsuit.

She gazed up into his eyes for three full heartbeats before she pushed open the door and disappeared inside.

Christ, her round ass and the sway of her hips made his cock like pure steel.

He stood there a moment, wondering if he had time to jack himself to completion before the party.

Before he could claim temporary insanity, he stepped off the terrace into the room. Luckily, Sophie was already out of sight.

If he could drink on the job, he’d consider snagging one of the mini bottles from the bar on the way to the bedroom. Hell, he might need it. Walking in on Sophie in a state of undress would surely send him over the edge.

He discovered her in the bedroom—wearing that filmy swimsuit coverup that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She was rifling through her suitcase.

“You can hang your things up in the closet.”

“I didn’t have time before. I don’t now either.” She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. “Aha!” She plucked a high heel from the depths of her bag. The strappy shoe was nothing like what he’d expect from a stuffy professor. Up until now, he’d only seen her in simple clothes that all pointed to Sophie being modest.

Except her bra and panties were feminine and sexy as hell. And when he’d gotten her clothes off and thrown her in the pool, she’d been all over him like a second skin.

His cock jerked against his fly, hard as nails.

He had to quit watching her. “You take the bathroom first. I’ll dress in the other room.”

“Okay,” she sang out. With a liquid black dress draped over her forearm and those high heels in the other, she hurried into the bathroom.

He stared after her.

The thump of the door slamming behind her felt like a goddamn challenge.

He scrubbed a hand over his face to erase the image of the loose fabric swishing around her calves.

Really, man? Her calves? Are you going to get turned on by a little ankle too?

He grabbed his suit and tie and went into the sitting room to dress. Even getting five feet away from Sophie allowed him a little more space in his brain for what mattered—the ops.

Intel had uncovered a few names connected with their suspect. He went by Bayar in his phone, but Con had seen aliases before. Any person involved in deep terrorism like they suspected he was didn’t show off his real name to the world.

Their order was to get to the party and find a certain businessman linked to Bayar and make contact. Their guise of being a couple would make it easier to blend in with the crowd.

He adjusted his tie by feel alone, then reached for a pair of glasses.

“Whoa.”

Sophie walked in, looking like she was about to walk the red carpet in that dress. He skimmed his gaze over her. The high neck was no surprise, but it acted like more of a necklace around her throat and her arms were bare except for a line of gold bracelets circling one wrist.

He let his gaze continue down her body. At her feet, his gut clenched.

Jesus. Hewasgoing to get turned on by a little ankle. The dress ended a few inches above the straps of her high heels, which made her ankles look slim and sexy as hell.

He shook himself.

“You look really different in glasses.” Her breasts pushed against her dress in a small heave.

He faced her fully. “Different good or different bad?”

“Different good…” She peered closer. “Oh my god. Are those recording glasses?”

“That’s the only reason I’d need glasses. I have perfect vision.”

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