And just like that he’s gone.
But I’m not.
Not really.
Because if he thinks he can hold back forever, he doesn’t know me at all.
And I’ve got just the plan to ruin him.
ASHER
An hour later, I’m on a video call with Brad, who’s taking me through the server resilience upgrades, a dry subject at the best of times, but right now I can barely bring myself to care what he’s saying about contingency improvements and the new three-tier protocol we’ve installed for client-side encryption.
I like my deputy, I really do, but right now all I can think about isher. Lying in bed in the next room. The way she looked at me an hour ago, like I was the only thing keeping her upright, makes me want to end this call and stride right in there. There’sa tightness in my chest. It feels suspiciously like anger, but I’m not sure who I’m angry at. Her or me.
Maybe both.
All I know is that I’m a hair’s breadth away from storming into her room and showing her just how fucking furious I am.
I take a breath. She’s hurt. She needs to rest.
“So then we added the rolling back-up redundancy to the client side key vaults, just in case anyone tries to replicate the previous breach vector again…”
Brad’s voice fades into static as my phone vibrates next to the keyboard. I glance down at it.
Turn the bedroom camera on. – Francie
My mouth goes dry. Every rational part of my brain says to ignore it. But rationality has taken a back seat ever since I walked through the lighthouse door. Hell, ever since she texted me that first night and shattered into a million pieces in front of my eyes.
I adjust myself in my seat. And of course I turn the fucking camera on.
Brad is still talking, but it sounds like background noise, competing with the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“Right,” I murmur, dragging my eyes away from the screen long enough to unmute myself. “We should definitely… yeah. Do that.”
Like a magnet, my gaze is dragged back to the second window on my monitor. To her. In bed. Bare shoulders, hair mussed. She’s staring straight at the camera again, those wide eyes that short-circuit every single coherent thought I’ve ever had.
She knows exactly what she’s doing. And I’m falling for it like a rookie.
“I’ll send over the test results by the end of day,” Brad says. “And while I have you, I wanted to run through the revised reporting interface for?—”
The covers fall from Francie’s chest. Revealing her perfectly round breasts.
My throat locks. She’s doing it on purpose, there’s no doubt about that. She’s challenging me. Teasing me. And every part of me wants to rise to the bait.
But Brad is still talking.
I hit the unmute button. “I have to go,” I tell him, my voice thick. I can’t even pretend I’m sane anymore. Especially when she removes the sheets from the rest of her body. Revealing her completely bare body in all of its glory. Fuck, I want to touch her. I want to do everything to her. Make her cheeks pink up and her breath shorten as I make her come, over and over again until she’s an orgasmic mess.
Brad blinks, uncertainty pulling at his features. “Is everything okay?”
No, everything is a fucking disaster. My body’s on fire. I’m seconds away from breaking my own rules, and the woman I can’t stop thinking about is naked and challenging me through a goddamn security feed.
“It’s a personal matter,” I manage to bite out. “We’ll circle back on this tomorrow.”
I don’t wait for him to reply before I end the call. And then I push back from the desk, feeling one breath away from losing control.