Page 16 of Code Name: Reaper
“Fine,” she muttered, standing and heading toward the upstairs bedrooms.
Once she’d disappeared from view, I found one on the main level, spread my gear out, and set up the security monitoring that would issue an alarm loud enough to wake me if breached. But even with a floor between us, I could feel her presence.
As a rush of water sounded from the shower upstairs, images flooded my mind—steam and skin and the way she might lookif she finally, for once, let her guard down. I tried to force my thoughts to threat assessments. It didn’t work.
The water ran for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of me lying on the bed, listening to every sound from upstairs.
When the water finally stopped, I heard her moving around the bedroom. Was she getting dressed? Undressed? Lying in bed, thinking about the same thing that was keeping me awake?
Hours passed. I tried to sleep, but every noise drew my attention. She was pacing. I could hear her weight shifting from one foot to the other, the restless energy of someone whose mind wouldn’t shut off.
Join the club.
Late morning stretched into afternoon,and still I couldn’t sleep. Exhaustion should have taken over, but my awareness of her made rest impossible.
At thirteen hundred, I gave up and went to the kitchen for water.
Amaryllis appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, and I nearly dropped the glass in my hand.
She wore a black tank top and sweat shorts that showed more of her skin than I’d ever seen. No armor, no weapons, no barriers except the distance she maintained.
“Can’t sleep, either?” I asked.
“I have intel feeds I need to check.”
The lie came so easily I almost believed it. Almost. “Sure, you do.”
“Reaper—”
“Kingston,” I corrected automatically. If we were going to have this conversation, whatever it was, I wanted her to use my real name.
She blinked, surprised by the second correction. “Kingston.”
The soft tone of her voice made me want to cross the kitchen, press her up against the counter, and take another taste of those lips I was obsessing over.
“About what happened?—”
“The kiss,” I finished when she hesitated.
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Another lie. It changed everything, and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to make it go away.
I stayed in the kitchen when she retreated upstairs without another word.
When I finally returned to the bedroom, I attempted to fall back to sleep, but my brain focused again on every noise from above. The creak of the bed frame when she turned over. The rustle of the sheets and blankets.
I’d drifted off, but sat straight up when I heard her cry out. Had I dreamed it? I held my breath and waited a few seconds. Nothing. Just as I rolled over, I heard it again.
“Kingston.”
It was as clear as if she stood beside me.
5
AMARYLLIS
