Page 14 of Rogue Mission
For a split-second, I'm airborne. And so is she, in a blur of skin, twisted clothes, and flying hair.
The ground comes fast, punching the air out of me as I land on my back. The impact turns us into a heap on the tile. Together.
Serious miscalculation. I thought it would take more than one pull.
My laugh is muffled as I try to catch my breath.Holy shit Batman.
"I freaking love this job."
She smells good.
Womanly. Warm.
A recipe for an erection, especially now that I'm acutely aware that she has the softest breasts I've ever touched and they’re pressed against my face.
Oh god. This is heaven. This is hell. This is definitely getting me slapped.
And they're salty. Just like the ocean. My second favorite place on earth.
My first favorite is rapidly becoming wherever Rosalie Baxter is.
Rosalie makes a squeak and jumps off of me, covering her bare chest frantically, since her bra has also been victim to the grip of the metal walls.
Its new home is up above her nipples.
"Jesus, Mary. God!" she gasps. "I almost killed you."
Flat on my back, I tip my head back to stare at the ceiling, grinning like a fool. "I'm good with dying like that, sweetheart."
She does not laugh.
If anything, the temperature in the room drops about forty degrees. I can practically feel icicles forming in the air between us.
Her anger is a throbbing forcefield filling up the small room.
Okay. Message received. With a shake of my ringing skull, I roll to my feet, and finally get a look at her.
Hello, gorgeous.
Rosalie is much prettier in person, and that's saying a whole lot. The photo was a knockout. This…
Fuuuuckity.
She's a mess and a feast for my eyes.
Her hair is wild, ripped half-free from her ponytail. Shirt torn and skirt still hiked up, the image in front of me is ninety percent bare skin.
God damn, she's hot. Smart-hot. Wild-hot. Mine-to-rescue hot.
For one beat, we just stare at each other. Breathing harder than normal as we occupy the space.
We're just two feet apart in silence that feels as loud as the inside of a steel mill.
Her eyes are the color of honey in sunlight. Or maybe whiskey. Something golden and intoxicating that I shouldn't be noticing when we're in the middle of an extraction.
Something that makes my heart do a weird stutter-step in my chest.
Fuck.
