Page 151 of Mission Shift

“One of the romance books Svetlana gave me to read…Twilight.”

“God, you’re obsessed with those books. Sorry to inform you, but I’m no vampire,” I teased.

“Oh, no. You’d be Team Jacob—a shape-shifting wolf, if you were so lucky.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“You’re supposed to be charming,” she said, nudging my knee. “A man who swept me off my feet. Remember?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to grab the pad. “We were married six months later in a small ceremony in Big Sur. No guests—just us and a view.”

“That’s the most unrealistic part of all this,” Daria muttered. “You don’t shut up about your brothers. No way you left them out of your fake wedding.”

“You got that right,” I said, smiling.

We kept going like that—back and forth, joking about how we met, when we’d known we were in love, where we’d traveled, who had introduced us to Nik. Even with my good memory, I couldn’t keep all the ridiculous girly details straight worth a damn. And every time I got one detail wrong, Daria shot me an annoyed look like a disappointed professor.

“No, Braxton. My fake cousin’s name is Maya. Not Mia. Maya. How hard is that?”

“Shit. I’m trying, babe.”

She sighed and pointed to the page. “Let’s do it again.”

I stood, rubbed my hands down my cheeks, and slapped on my poker face. “Hi. I’m Braxton Thorin. This is my wife, Dasha. We’re very much in love, we’re not spies, and we definitely didn’t escape a Russian prison and flee across the gulf under false identities.”

“Perfect,” she said flatly. “We’ll be arrested before we even make it to the dock.”

I held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

“What? There’s no music.”

“Come on. Pretend.” I tugged her up, spun her gently as if we were at a wedding reception, and stumbled over the edge of the sofa, dragging her down with me.

She squealed as we landed in a heap, me half-sprawled on top of her. I grinned and pinned her arms down.

“Braxton,” she laughed, breathless. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re taking this way too seriously.” I kissed her hard, pressing into her until she squirmed underneath me. “We need to practice the fun parts of being married too.”

She smirked up at me. “This is your solution? Tackling me on the furniture?”

“So far, so good,” I said, grabbing the hem of her shirt and yanking it up in one swift motion.

My breath caught.

“No bra?” I whispered, my eyes locking onto the perfect view.

“If I’d known you were gonna act like this, I’d have worn three,” she teased.

I lowered my mouth to one breast and ran my tongue slowly over the tight peak. She gasped as it hardened under my touch. I grazed it with my teeth and then sucked it into my mouth, making her breath hitch.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she whispered.

I growled into her skin. “If I’d known you weren’t wearing a bra, I would’ve bailed on this rehearsal bullshit hours ago.”

She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer. Then she giggled and arched her hips into mine. “Then it’s probably a good thing you didn’t know I skipped the panties too.”

I froze. Pulled back.

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