Page 19 of Over the Edge

“That’s the point,” I said, throwing him an exasperated look. “He’s easier to manipulate when he thinks he’s winning.”

Flynn shook his head, dropping back against the seat. “Yeah? He’s also gonna spend the entire night trying to figure out how to get you into his bed.”

I smirked. “I know. And he’ll fail.”

Flynn exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Still don’t like it.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “This was your plan!”

“My plan was to play your lover, so I had a reason to stay glued to your side more than a regular bodyguard. But then you went and agreed to dinner alone with him!”

“Because it’s what the mission requires.” I pulled off my hat and shook out my hair, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the confines of the limo. “You think I want to spend an evening with that slimy bastard? This is my job, Flynn. I do what needs to be done. Besides, I’ve handled worse than him before.”

“Have you?” Flynn’s gaze searched my face. “Because the way you tensed up when he kissed your hand back there suggests otherwise.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “I didn’t tense up.”

“Like hell you didn’t.” He caught my hand—the one Moreau had kissed—and rubbed his thumb over the spot. “Look, I get it. You want to prove yourself. But this isn’t about proving anything. It’s about staying alive long enough to complete the mission.”

“I can handle one dinner,” I said, softer now. “Besides, what choice do we have? He’s not going to negotiate with both of us there, and if I can’t buy Sentinel off him, then I need access to the auction.”

Flynn was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to say. Finally, he exhaled, and a faint smile touched his lips. “At least I got to bruise his ego.”

“You certainly did,” I said with a quiet laugh, leaning back in the seat and stretching out my legs. “Though, for the record, you’re never getting me to scream your name.”

His head turned sharply, his gaze locking onto mine, and just like that, the air inside the limo shifted. Thickened.

That faint smile spread into a slow, seductive grin. “That a challenge, princess?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not in the slightest.”

Flynn leaned close enough that I could feel the heat of him and breathe in the scent of leather and soap. “Could’ve fooled me.”

My breath hitched, and for a second—just a second—I thought about closing the distance between our lips. I wanted to prove him wrong. But I also wanted to prove him right.

His hand slid to my jaw, thumb brushing the curve of my cheek, and then his mouth claimed mine, slow at first, like he expected me to pull away.

I didn’t.

I curled my hands against his shirt. I meant to push him away. I really did. But instead, I just held on, and then I was pulling him closer.

Flynn’s lips moved against mine with a confidence that made my head spin. This wasn’t the teasing, playful Flynn from earlier. This was something hungrier, more dangerous. His tongue swept across my lower lip, and I opened for him without thinking, a soft sound escaping my throat that I immediately wanted to take back.

But God, he tasted good. Like caramel and coffee and something uniquely him that made me want to crawl into his lap and forget about missions and covers and everything else.

His other hand found my waist, fingers splaying wide against the silk of my jumpsuit, and I could feel the heat of his palm burning through the fabric. My pulse hammered against my throat as he angled his head, taking the kiss deeper.

We were supposed to be fake lovers, but there was nothing fake about the way my body responded to him, the way every nerve ending lit up like a live wire. It had been so very long since I’d felt heat like this, wild and reckless, from just a kiss.

Had I ever?

No.

Not like this.

He groaned, low and rough, a sound of triumph and frustration all at once. He shifted, pulling me closer so I straddled his lap, the kiss turning fierce and impatient, reckless and consuming, just like everything else between us. I couldn’t tell where his breath ended and mine began. His grip on me tightened like he was staking a claim, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was a bad idea—a really, really bad idea—but it didn’t stop me from grinding down on the hard ridge of his cock.

I thought I heard myself moan. Or maybe it was him.

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