Page 21 of Secret Mission

Now my cheeks are flaming, and I’m still choking on the banana.

Nice.Great. Way to go.

Just what I need, to choke to death on a phallic object in front of this man.

He shifts his overtly powerful body and makes a deep rumbling sound as if he can feel me groping him with my retinas.

At least he leaves his back to me.

I chew. Slowly.

How tall is he?

As I force down the last of the fruit, I allow myself to enjoy the view of him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t turn, and I have time.

Because I must be deranged. Too much stress. Too little sleep. Nearly dying so many times I can’t count. That should excuse my behavior, right?

He’s a sight. Miles of muscle, rivers of scars, and ink so black it rivals the night sky.

This guy’s body is a work of art, both a carnal sculpture and display of human artwork.

“You gettin’ an eye full?”

Hit by a jolt of guilt that could shake the Richter Scale, I grab a piece of purple fruit to distract myself. But try as I might, I can’t remember the name of what I have in my hand.

Nothing is adding up, and the name of the syrupy-sweet produce is the least of my worries.

“I’m sorry.” Not. But hey, I should act decent anyway.

He chuckles. “Sweetheart, you should not be making those slurping sounds while you suck on that fruit after that little show. It sounds like eating pussy.”

He didn’t…

Splat.

The purple fruit falls out of my hand. Chasing my quick inhale, heat shoots down my body and lands in a place I had forgotten existed. Until him.

Visions of his dark-blond head between my legs, his mouth eating greedily, riot my nervous system.

If he goes down like he does everything else, I’d die deliriously happy.

“Uh-hum.” Clearing my twisted throat, I pick the fruit off the floor to throw it away. Trying in vain to sound composed, I say, “Well, sorry if your imagination is a little overzealous.”

Because apparently mine is too.

“It’s not the only thing about me that’s overzealous.”

His hand falls to the front of his cargo pants and adjusts something… before he turns to face me.

“Thanks for the news flash, I’m happy for your ego.”

“I’m not the one that gets the benefit.”

My core clenches.

“In my experience, overzealous just means shoddy work.”

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