Page 21 of The Hive Queen

“Performing an exorcism on a house.” I drop the washcloth into the sink and turn off the water. “The couple thought the crawl space under their house was haunted, so I went down there to expel the evil spirits.”

Flint snorts as he opens the first aid kit and pulls out an antiseptic wipe, passing it to Sharpe. “And what did it turn out to be?”

“Family of raccoons.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a check. “Cost them way more than an exterminator would have to get rid of them.”

Flint takes the check and whistles at the number. “I hope you deposited this already. We don’t need them getting buyer’s remorse and canceling it.”

“Took a picture and sent it to the bank the second I got in my car.” A cold wet wipe touches the back of my neck, making me flinch, and I pull away. “Ouch!”

“Hold still.” Sharpe grips my shoulder with his free hand. “The raccoons didn’t scratch or bite you, did they? Rabies is worse than a bee sting.”

“Not that I know of.” I hunch my shoulders with discomfort as he cleans my wound. “But if I start foaming at the mouth, you’re the first one I’m coming for.”

“Vindictiveness becomes you.” Flint leans in, his eyes on my cheek, before he changes his mind and backs away. “I’m going to insist on that bath before any part of my body touches yours.”

I twist toward him. “Who said our bodies were touching tonight?”

“Quick, show her the sexy pose,” Sharpe prompts.

Flint smacks his arm. “We seriously need to discuss the bro code.”

“Well, now you have to show me.” I swat away Sharpe’s fussing hand and turn to fully face Flint. “Sexy pose. Now.”

“Just so you’re aware, there is zero mood in the room.” He walks to the wall that separates the large soaking tub from the multi-person shower and leans against the tiles, his hips cocked forward slightly.

Rolling one shoulder forward puts his collarbones on full display through the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. With a toss of his dark hair, he gives me a smoldering stare.

Despite the funny pajamas he wears and his neon-green, fluffy socks, that look makes my pulse race. I’ve been conditioned after seeing it directed at me thousands of times, and it always leads to toe-melting pleasure.

“That’s what I came home to,” Sharpe whispers, breaking the spell Flint cast over me.

I chuckle. “How could you resist?”

He winks at me. “Who says I did?”

“This is a serious skill you’re mocking.” Flint straightens and moves to the bathtub, plugging the bottom before turning on the faucets. “Like you could do better, Sharpe.”

Brows arching at the challenge, Sharpe rolls up his sleeves as he strides to the wall, where he turns on the fireplace, winning himself instant bonus points. He reaches up and tugs his tie loose, but leaves it hanging around his neck, then he pops the top two buttons on his dress shirt. Raising one arm to rest against the wall, he half turns toward me, his head dipping so that he stares hungrily at me through his thick lashes.

My lips part with a quick intake of breath. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s usually so reserved and focused, not letting loose until we’re in bed together. Now, with dark stubble covering his chin from a long day of work, and the muscles on his forearms highlighted by his rolled-up sleeves, the urge to go to him is nearly overwhelming.

Flint lets out a low whistle. “Okay, fine, but you have the whole suit thing going for you. I did it in a pair of alien pajamas.”

“Hush.” Sharpe’s gaze remains fixed on me. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“The mood I started.” Flint walks over to me, his fluffy socks shushing against the tiles. “Come on, let’s get you out of these dusty clothes and into that warm bath. It will make you feel one hundred percent better.”

With steam filling the air, a hot bath sounds appealing. It will help loosen the stiffness in my muscles and soak the grime from my pores far better than the quick clean-up at the sink did. “Will you get my alien pajamas for me?”

“Anything, my love.” Despite his earlier words, Flint leans in to kiss me lightly on the lips.

When he pulls back, I narrow my eyes in accusation. “You taste like stolen bacon.”

“What’s that?” He cups a hand over his ear. “Did I just hear the phone ring?”

I track his flight out of the bathroom. “You’re a horrible liar!”

With him gone, Sharpe rejoins me and cups my waist, pulling me closer. “I really am sorry. I’ll never do something like that again.”

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