Page 23 of Code Name: Ghost

I try to speak, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I pull against the restraints; the leather creaking under the strain, my body desperate to reach him, to feel more of him.

His hand slides around my waist, fingers splaying over my stomach as he pulls me back against him. I can feel the hard press of his body, the undeniable evidence of his desire, and it sends a jolt of need straight to my core.

“You want this, don’t you?” he asks, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Yes,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

“Say it louder,” he commands, his hand moving lower, teasing along the edge of my panties.

“Yes,” I say again, my voice stronger this time, laced with desperation.

“Good girl.” The praise wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I shudder, my body completely at his mercy.

The flogger drags down my back, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of his hands. And then it strikes—not hard, just enough to send a sharp, delicious sting radiating through me. I gasp, my fingers curling into fists as the sensation fades, replaced by a warmth that pools low in my belly.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up my side, brushing just beneath the curve of my breast. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He strikes again, this time lower, the leather kissing the backs of my thighs. My moan fills the space between us, unrestrained, and I feel him smile against my neck.

“You like this,” he says, not a question but a statement.

“Yes,” I admit, my voice shaky but certain.

“Then let go for me—surrender—submit,” he croons, his lips capturing mine in a searing kiss. It’s possessive, demanding, his tongue teasing mine as his hand moves lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties to my core.

I cry out against his mouth, my body arching as he finds my nub, his fingers exploring, teasing, driving me to the edge.

“You’re mine,” he says again, his voice a growl that vibrates through me. “Say it out loud.”

“I’m yours,” I whisper, the words tumbling out without thought, without hesitation.

He claims me with another kiss, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself fall completely. Into him, into this. Into the fire he ignites within me.

And then I wake, my breath ragged, my body still trembling. The room is silent, the cold air brushing against my flushed skin, but the memory of his touch lingers, vivid and inescapable.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady the wild beat of my heart, but it’s useless. Nick has always had the power to unravel me, and now, even in my dreams, he wields it with devastating precision.

The first light of dawn filters through the small window, and I swing my legs over the side of the bed, deciding there’s no point in trying to rest any longer. I need to face him.

I dress quickly, throwing on the jeans and sweater I pulled from my bag last night. As I step out of the room, I catch the faint sound of keys clicking. The soft glow of a laptop screen illuminates Nick’s profile, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he types.

For a moment, I stand there, watching him. The lines of his face are sharper in the dim light, his jaw set in that same determined way I’ve seen a hundred times before.

I should hate him for being so composed, for acting like none of this affects him. But I can’t. Because deep down, I know the truth. It does affect him. He’s just better at hiding it than I am.

“Morning,” I say softly, stepping into the room.

He doesn’t look up. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I cross the room, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. “What are you working on?”

“Reports.” His voice is clipped, but he doesn’t stop me from invading his space.

Names, dates, and locations, some highlighted in red, fill the document on his screen. My gaze skims over the details, something tugging at the edge of my memory.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a line near the bottom of the page.

“A shipment manifest,” he replies, his tone distracted.

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