Page 58 of Over the Edge

She didn’t smile at the weak joke. Instead, her eyes softened with something dangerously close to understanding.

Restless, I went back to the bar and poured another drink, offering her the glass this time. She hesitated before taking it, her fingers brushing mine in the exchange. The brief contact sent electricity racing up my arm.

Lyric took a small sip, her eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. The jumpsuit’s neckline dipped low enough for me to catch a glimpse of the mark I’d left on the curve of her breast. I wanted to put my mouth there again, to taste her skin, to hear those soft sounds she made when I?—

“Maybe because you miss having someone watch your six.”

Her words stilled me. I looked away, not wanting her to see how close to the mark she’d hit.

“Nah.” I waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I just like the paycheck.”

She set a hand on my forearm and waited until I met her gaze. “Either he forgives you or he doesn’t. This half-in, half-out thing you’ve got going on isn’t fair to either of you.”

Well, damn. She wasn’t going to let me off the book.

But two could play that game.

I set down my glass and held her gaze as I closed the distance between us. “And what about this half-in, half-out thing we’ve got going on?”

Lyric’s eyes went wide, then narrowed, that familiar wall slamming back into place. “We don’t have anything going on.”

“Bullshit.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. “You can’t even look at me without remembering last night. I see it every time it crosses your mind. Does thinking about it make you wet for me, Lyric?”

She took a step back, but I matched it, unwilling to let her retreat this time.

“Flynn, don’t.” She lifted her chin in that defiant angle I was coming to recognize. “We already did this. Last night was a mistake. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

“I disagree.” I took a step toward her, watching her body language for signs she wanted me to back off. She didn’t retreat, but her grip on her glass tightened. “What happened between us wasn’t just blowing off steam. It wasn’t a mistake. And it sure as hell wasn’t something you can dismiss with some bullshit about adrenaline.”

“What do you want me to say?” Her voice held a warning, but there was something else there too—a tremor she couldn’t quite hide. “That it meant something? That we’re suddenly in a relationship? We barely know each other.”

“I know enough.” Another step closer. “I know you’re stubborn and brilliant and dangerous. I know you fight like you’ve got something to prove. I know you taste like honey when you come in my mouth. And I know last night was a hell of a lot more than just sex for both of us.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her facade cracked—just a bit—showing a flicker of vulnerability, of longing. But then it was gone, replaced by those cold steel walls she liked to hide behind.

“It doesn’t matter what it was,” she said, her voice steady again. “It can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m still trying to establish myself on this team. Because I’m responsible for securing Sentinel. Because Ethan already doesn’t trust me, and if he thinks I’m compromised because of you?—”

“So this is about Ethan?”

She stepped around me and quickly put the length of the room between us. “It’s about the job. It’s always about the job, Flynn. You know that better than anyone.”

I watched her, the careful way she moved, the tension radiating off her. If I dug my fingers into those tight knots in her shoulders, would she moan? I desperately wanted to find out, but stayed where I was. She was already spooked, and I knew better than to push a wild animal when it was cornered.

“Maybe the job doesn’t have to be everything for us,” I said.

Her flinch told me more than a thousand words could have. Her hesitation to admit we had something more than sex wasn’t just about professionalism or Ethan’s approval. This reluctance was deeper, rooted in who she believed herself to be.

“Look at me,” I said softly.

She turned, her expression a careful mask.

“I’m not asking for forever, Lyric.”Yet, I thought. “I’m just asking you not to pretend last night didn’t happen.”

She made an exasperated sound and flapped her arms in exasperation. “What difference does it make?”

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