Page 63 of Under the Lies

His glasses are dipped low on his nose, letting me see how pissed he really is.

“Jesus Christ.” He rubs his, undoubtedly ringing, ear. The underside of the desk is like a megaphone, amplifying my scream. Glaring, he adds, “What the fuck, Sayer.”

I didn’t mean too, it kind of just slipped out. Excuse me for being a little on edge tonight.

“You scared me.” Not moving from my spot.

“What the hell are you doing here.” It’s not phrased as a question. “And why is your cat running around my office?”

“Your club was overwhelming. Pan didn’t like it.”

“What the fuck is he doing here in the first place?”

“Looking for you. But you weren’t here.”

“So you leave. You don’t come to my office.” He rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Hotch told me I could wait here.”

A sound of annoyance rumbles from the back of his throat until he sees the expression on my face. He sighs. “C’mon. Get out from under there.”

He stands.

I don’t move.

“Sayer. It’s best not to test me right now.”

Sensing he’s right, I heed his words and crawl out from the desk as dignified as I can. But before I can stand up, Noah’s hand goes to my shoulder. Stopping me.

He gives me a cruel smile. Enjoying this, me on my hands and knees before him.

I wait for Noah to step aside so there’s enough room for me, but like the gentleman he’s not, he doesn’t so much as twitch a brow.

Noah’s stiff as a statue as I stand.

We’re so close my breasts graze the buttons of his shirt. And with every breath, our chests brush together. It sends fireworks across my skin, shooting off in all directions.

His lips give a small twitch on his otherwise hard face as he takes in my attire. “Got all dressed up for me, I see.”

“Don’t shame my pajamas.” I cross my arms over the penguin’s chest.

Again, his lips fight to form a smile. “I would never,” he teases.

Wait.

Teases?

I can deal with a snarky Noah. Even a surly Noah. But a teasing Noah?

That’s a level I have yet to unlock. I don’t know what to do. It takes me several minutes to form any kind of response. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Oh my God, that’s the best my short-circuited, slightly traumatized brain could come up with?

Someone please put me out of my misery.

Noah chuckles, acknowledging how lame it was. “You can do better than that.”

“I really can,” I admit. “You just threw me off.”

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