Page 59 of Dangerous Mission

No. Everything is a fucking disaster. But that seems to be the M.O. in Vandemora, so it’s no surprise.

I take the map from her hand and stare down at the lines. Maps have always been my solace, but right now, the image blurs as Aria’s proximity punctures my normally impenetrable forcefield. “Fine. Are you ready to get geared up?”

“Yeah, just look over Griff’s gear. It should all fit you fine.”

I turn my back to her and go through the equipment. Griffon Kane is damn near exactly my same size. It still doesn’t mean I like diving in someone else’sgear.

But it is what it is. There’s no time to be a whiney ass about it. If there’s one thing I learned in the Teams it's to adapt and move forward.

“Everything looks good.” I stand up and jerk my shirt off.

Behind me Aria sucks air. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were going to… um…”

Shit. Twisting at the waist, I look back at her.

Suddenly quiet, she presses her hand to her mouth as she looks at me.

I doubt she saw the scars on my ribs, but I turn my back to her quickly anyway as I kick my boots off with more force than needed. “You knew I was getting undressed. You don’t expect me to wear my clothes under my wetsuit?”

Her voice is distant when she replies. “Of course not. I just didn’t expect to see you—” she clears her throat. “Naked.”

“Wasn’t naked.”

The air pulses with her unease.

Finally, she says, “You know what I mean. I didn’t know you were going to just rip your shirt off.”

Fucking hell.

My hands fall still on my cargo pants. I got so wrapped up in Aria, I forgot about my damned scars. Some people are upset by old wounds. Which is why no one sees mine.

“Are you looking now?”

“No,” she squeaks.

I rip open the button and jerk down the zipper, facing away from her. The scars on my legs are a whole different nightmare. Something she’ll never see.

Anger pulses along my nerves as I toss the cargos and my boxer briefs onto the tarp, and pull on the legs of thewetsuit one by one. Behind me, the rustle of clothing and little sound of exertion remind me that Aria’s doing the same.

My cock starts to wake up which just makes me even angrier. How can I be this fucked up?

But all I can think about is whether she’s wearing a swimsuit beneath her wetsuit, or going naked.

If she’s getting completely undressed, someone could see her.

My head snaps up and I scan the hillside. “Aria, where’s Rory?”

There’s no one in sight.I exhale sharply, puzzling at the possessive feeling tightening my lungs.

She murmurs, “Bringing the tanks down.”

I finish pulling on the tight sleeves and adjust the neck of Griff Kane’s wetsuit and turn around just in time to catch sight of a bare shoulder.

No strap. No bra. Definitely no swimsuit. Just smooth bare skin.

Before I realize it, Rory’s sliding into the tent carrying two sets of tanks. He glances at my face, then at Aria.

With one shake of his head, he sums every single thing about this situation up. I’m screwed.

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