Page 23 of Code Name: Reaper
Which meant I’d been right. I had heard her moan my name through the walls. Not Reaper—Kingston. My actual name, spoken in a way that had made every nerve ending in my body come alive.
With my eyes closed, I let myself envision what that dream might have looked like. Me undressing her slowly, taking my time with each piece of clothing until she was bare in front of me. The kisses we’d share—hungry, desperate, and nothing like that brief moment of madness in the tunnel. My inability to keep myself from taking one of her nipples in my mouth as soon as her breasts were exposed, the way she’d arch and make those same sounds I’d heard in the night.
How she’d writhe and moan, begging for more until I settled between her legs, using my mouth to drive her wild. The taste of her, the way she’d come apart under my tongue while her hands fisted in my hair. How she’d beg again when I slipped first one finger, then two, into her wetness, preparing her. And finally, how it would feel when I was inside her—tight and hot and right, her legs wrapped around my waist as I moved within her.
I opened one eye and found her studying me, her gaze intense and unreadable. I grinned and winked, then shifted my body so I faced away from her. I heard her huff in frustration and smiled to myself.
When the plane’sengines changed pitch, signaling our descent into Gatwick, I forced myself into mission mode, pushing aside the fantasies that had made the flight both more bearable and infinitely more torturous.
As the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom with landing instructions, I was already mentally shifting gears to the debrief waiting at the estate, looking out the rain-streaked windows.
An SUV waited on the tarmac, keys in the ignition and an envelope on the passenger seat. I tore it open while Amaryllis put her bag on the rear seat.
Blackjack’s familiar scrawl covered a single sheet of paper—Arranged place for you both. Twenty minutes from main house. Address and key inside. Thought you’d want privacy. Enjoy.—B
Irritation flared hot and fast as I stared at the note. What the hell was Blackjack thinking? There was plenty of room at the property—both in the main residence and the various guest quarters that dotted the grounds. I’d figured she’d stay in one of those and I’d have my usual room, where I bunked with my brother when I was in the country.
Instead, we’d share a private place. Together. Like we were some romantic couple on a getaway.
Amaryllis settled into the passenger seat. “What’s the matter?”
I snapped at her harder than I’d meant to. “Nothing.”
“Right. Because you always look like you want to strangle someone over ‘nothing.’”
I shoved the note into my jacket pocket without giving her time to see it. No way in hell was I explaining my brother’s matchmaking attempts.
I considered going by the rental first, but changed my mind. Maybe we should stay on the estate instead, and Blackjack could figure out what to do about the romantic gesture I’d never wanted him to make. On the other hand, I innately knew Amaryllis would be more comfortable if she—we—were on our own.
The drive through Surrey’s countryside should have been calming. Rolling green hills stretched in every direction, dotted with sheep and divided by ancient stone walls. The kind of postcard-perfect English landscape that usually helped me decompress after difficult missions.
Instead, every mile increased the tension crackling between us in the SUV’s confined space. Amaryllis stared out the window, her body rigid, radiating displeasure. I could feel her irritation even without looking directly at her.
“You’re being an ass,” she finally said.
“Am I?”
“Yes. Ever since we got off the plane, you’ve been snapping at me for breathing.”
She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “Maybe you’re too sensitive.”
“Or maybe you’re taking your frustration out on me because I’m an easy target.”
I scoffed. “You’re anything but easy, babe.”
“Blame me again, like any of this is my fault.”
I shot her a sideways look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You kissed me.”
“And you said you hated me.”Jesus.I sounded like a ten-year-old kid. Why was I arguing with her about it when all I wanted to do was pull over and do the same thing I’d done that night—kiss the fuck out of her? “Nothing can happen between us,” I added, wondering if the rejection would even faze her.
“Do you think that’s what I want?”
“I don’t know, but this job? It doesn’t leave room for complications.”
“So I’m a complication now?”
