Page 11 of Dangerous Devotion

“I’ll take the bed. You get the couch.” The look she gave him was surely meant to intimidate. She must be used to bossing people around.

“Fine.”

“Good.” He bent to untie his boots and then kicked them off.

The air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension. It wasn’t the first mission for either of them. Though it was the first he’d gotten that required him to share a room with a member of the opposite sex. It was quite possible that May hadn’t done that either.

He’d be lying to himself if he said that didn’t make him feel he was standing on uneven ground.

Or enemy territory.

She picked up her bag again and stalked to the bedroom. When she paused in the doorway, she swung around to face him.

“I’ll get ready out here,” he told her.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

He picked up the twitch of her lips, as if she enjoyed their small standoff.

He set his boots aside and grabbed his duffel. After setting it on the sofa—that doubled as his bed—he unzipped the bag. His tux was right on the top, ready for him to slip into.

Christ, he hated the restrictive attire almost as much as a military gala. He’d attended a few of these things. Each was as dull as the last, so all of them blurred together into one bad memory.

He threw a look at the closed bedroom door.

He’d never taken a date to one of these shindigs.

The mission was simple—or was it? Blending in with high-ranking military men with the goal of gathering intel wouldn’t be that easy when he could be recognized from his time before Blackout.

He shucked off his jeans and reached for the tux pants. He was counting on the unfamiliar formal wear to confuse anyone who might try to place him. If he wore Navy whites, the op would be all over because someone was sure to know him.

After casting off his shirt, he paused in only his pants, the fly undone, staring at the closed door. Not twenty feet away was a woman in a similar state of undress.

His cock stirred at the thought. It had been a hell of a long time since he’d taken anyone to bed, but it would not be May. The woman was so stiff, she would be like lying with a plank of wood.

His mind touched on her features, small and delicate. Her lips like a tiny rosebud, full and pouty.

She was also a pain in his ass.

“Cold and bitchy,” he muttered.

Quickly, he buttoned his white shirt, keeping the stiff collar up so he could add the bowtie.

A mirror just beside the entrance provided a place he could tie the damn thing. Real men didn’t wear clip-ons but now he wondered why the hell not. When he finished, it was lopsided, and he had to torture it into a new shape so it looked halfway decent.

As he shrugged the coat on, he issued a mental groan. His tailor claimed that the jacket fit him perfectly, but he always felt ready to bust out the seams the minute he shrugged his shoulders.

Across the modern space, the bedroom door opened and May stepped out.

Bright pink.

Henner blinked.

May’s gown wasbright fucking pink.

It hugged her body, clinging to her small breasts and nipping in at the narrowest part of her waist before flaring across her narrow hips.

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