Page 69 of Wilde and Deadly

Dominic let out a quiet chuckle. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Yeah, Rowan did not have the bandwidth to deal with whatever the hell this was. She turned back toward the bedroom and caught a glimpse of herself in the floor-length mirror through the open door. She paused, studying her reflection. She did look damn good. “So, we’re settled, then. This is the dress.”

Vivi gave a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, for sure,it’s the dress.”

Davey had spent the entire day knee-deep in WSW business, running logistics for an upcoming high-profile client while also juggling the fallout from an op overseas that went sideways. It had been one thing after another—securing intel, double-checking security protocols, putting out fires before they could spark into infernos. By the time he made it back to the hotel suite to pick up Rowan, his patience was wearing thin.

At least, that was until he opened the door and saw her.

The room barely registered. He didn’t notice Sabin and Vivi bantering, didn’t clock Dominic’s sour mood. His world had shrunk down to one thing.

Rowan.

Andfuck, he wasn’t ready for this.

He had seen Rowan Bristow in a hundred different ways.

He’d seen her in the field, dirt-streaked and bloodied, moving like a predator through enemy lines with lethal precision. He’d seen her bare and breathless beneath him, her body slick with sweat, her nails carving into his skin as she came apart in his arms. He’d seen her stripped down to her rawest edges, on the nights when the weight of their lives pressed too damn hard, when she let him close enough to see the fractures beneath the steel.

But he had never—never—seen her like this.

And it hit him like a fucking freight train.

He stepped into the suite, fully prepared to bark out orders about the night ahead, but the words died in his throat. His mind short-circuited.

Rowan stood across the room, wrapped in a dress the color of blood and sin, her body encased in silk that clung to every lethal inch of her like it had beenpainted on. The slit rode high, giving him a glimpse of toned, battle-hardened thighs that he’d watched snap men’s necks. The neckline skimmed the dangerous edge of indecent, dipping just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy, andfuck, wasn’t that just the cruelest part?

She was temptation wrapped in a goddamn weapon, and for the first time in his life, Davey Wilde forgot how to breathe.

Rowan caught his stare, arching a brow. “Jesus, Wilde. Say something before I start thinking you had a stroke.”

His voice was rough when he found it. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Vivi made a dramatic sound of exasperation. “Oh, don’t be a caveman, Davey.” She flicked a hand toward Rowan like she was presenting a masterpiece. “This is pureart, mon cher. I told you she had it in her.”

“Jesus Christ,” Davey muttered, dragging a hand down his face, because this wasnotthe time for his brain to be short-circuiting.

Vivi smirked. “I take it that means the dress is a success?”

Rowan rolled her eyes. “He looks like he’s about to combust. So, yeah, let’s call that a win.”

Davey forced himself to move, stepping closer before he could think better of it. His gaze swept over her again, tracking every criminally perfect detail.

“This was a bad idea,” he said, voice low.

Rowan scoffed. “Oh, come on, Wilde, it’s just a dress.”

“No,” he murmured, his fingers twitching at his sides. “No,it’s not.”

He’d seen her naked. He knew every inch of the body beneath that silk—knew how she tasted, how she moaned, how she unraveled when he pushed her past her limits. But this wasdifferent.

This wasn’t Rowan Bristow, the soldier, the mercenary, the deadly thing with a gun in her hands and a sharp tongue that cut just as deep.

This was Rowan Bristow as a weapon of another kind. One built todestroyhim.

Andfuck, she knew it.

Her lips curled at the corner, wicked and knowing, as she tilted her head. “You gonna survive the night,boss?”

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