Page 62 of Over the Edge

Flynn’s hand was firm at my elbow as he guided me away, his grip just shy of painful.

“Oh, and Elisa?” Moreau called after us. “Dress for a party.”

The moment we were out of earshot, Flynn leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “What the hell was that?”

“That was me doing my job,” I hissed, maintaining my smile for the benefit of watching eyes. “So back off.”

“Your job isn’t to let him paw at you like a piece of meat.”

When we reached the lower deck, I rounded on him. “This is exactly why you-know-who had concerns. You can’t separate personal from professional.”

Flynn’s eyes blazed. “He’s testing us. Testing you.”

“He’s just a predator who thinks he’s found new prey to play with.”

A crew member in white appeared at the end of the hallway, and I immediately slipped back into character, leaning into Flynn with a sultry laugh. “You’re so protective, darling. It’s why I keep you around.”

The young woman led us to our cabin—singular, I noted with a twist in my stomach. One bed. Spacious, but still just one.

I had no idea if we would be on the boat overnight. If so, Moreau either expected Colt Mercer to sleep elsewhere or expected me to end up in his bed.

I didn’t like either option.

But sharing that bed with Flynn wasn’t a good idea, either. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Flynn scanned the room for surveillance devices while I cleared the bathroom. The cabin was luxurious. All cream and gold, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the darkening sea.

“Clear,” Flynn said after several minutes.

“Figured as much.” I dropped onto the edge of the bed, kicking off my heels and rubbing my sore feet. I hoped to hell my next cover wasn’t the kind of woman who wore stilettos with her bathing suit. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of combat boots right now. “He’s built his empire on discretion. If it got out he was bugging his clients’ cabins, he’d lose his customer base.”

“Or maybe he’s just smart enough to have devices we can’t detect,” Flynn said, his voice still edged with irritation as he prowled the perimeter of the room. “Don’t underestimate him.”

I watched Flynn’s restless movements, the way his shoulders remained tense beneath his tailored jacket. He was still angry at Moreau, at me, at this entire situation. I needed him to calm down before he did something stupid that got us both killed.

“I’m not underestimating him,” I said, keeping my voice even. “But I need you to get your head on straight. What happened up there can’t happen again.”

“You expect me to stand there while he puts his hands all over you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect.”

Flynn stopped his pacing to look at me, his eyes burning until he saw my wince when I hit a sore spot on the arch of my foot. He crossed the cabin in two strides and sat beside me, pulling my foot into his lap.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Taking care of my asset,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine as his fingers worked magic on my aching foot. “Isn’t that what good security does?”

I should have pulled away. Should have maintained that professional distance I’d been preaching about. Instead, I let my head fall back slightly as his thumb found a particularly sensitive spot and bit back a moan that would have sounded entirely too sexual.

“God, that feels good,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know.”

There was too much heat in those two words, too much memory of the night before. My body responded instantly, a flush creeping up my neck and pooling between my legs as his strong fingers worked their way up my calf, kneading tense muscles with just the right pressure.

“Flynn,” I murmured, his name somewhere between warning and invitation.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenged, his hands pausing against my skin.

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