Page 77 of Rogue Mission
“You’re growling,” she points out, and I can hear a smile in her voice.
“I’m tense, okay.”
I’m also horny as a motherfucker. But I don’t say that. I think it’s pretty clear from the way there’s now a mountain peak behind my zipper.
“I want you wearing a tracking necklace like fucking yesterday.”
She leans her elbows on the console and nuzzles my neck, her warm breath making a million goosebumps pop up.
“That’s so romantic,” she says, tasting the undoubtedly salty skin, because I’m sweating missiles.
Sweating bullets seems far too lame of a description for what’s happening right now.
“Well, I’m glad you think so,” I choke, every word grinding out of me between ragged inhales.
“So, how can I make this easier on you?” She whispers right next to my ear.
“By not causing us to wreck, first of all.”
She laughs lightly, plants a kiss on my cheek and slides back into her seat. Like a good girl. Even tightening her belt.
“You’re fun to rile up.”
“Fuck. You like playing with fire, angel,” I grumble, but a smile is trying to curve the corners of my mouth. “You look cute by the way, all badass with your tactical vest.”
“So it’s a yes for the tactical lingerie when we get back?”
My vision wavers from the intensity of the throb in my dick. “Do. Not. Talk. About. That.”
“What shall I talk about?” She asks in a playful tone.
“Get back to work,” I grumble. “Check the app and see where everyone else is.”
I already know where they are, but if she’s busy, she won’t be kissing my neck. There’s only so much a man can take, and between the frustration, the impending mission, and her looking like a dangerous little tactical vixen, I’m goddamned triggered.
“They’re in the air over the Pacific,” she reports, zooming and moving around the map.
“And Ryker?”
After tapping on the screen a few times, she says, “He’s half a mile behind us.”
She’s good. Adapts easy. I knew Rosalie was smart, but I guess it still takes me off guard at how easily she fits into my world.
We’re already syncing up. Which is why I feel the instant her mind circles back to the woman Ryker carried into the safe house.
It’s like I can read her thoughts.
The air shifts, darkening, and when I look over, the light has dimmed in her gaze.
“Do you think the woman with Ryker will be okay?”
“He’s a good man. I know that Ryker will do whatever it takes to keep her safe,” I say, my tone gravelly, as I process how badly the woman was assaulted.
None of our team would let that go on.
Rosalie shivers, as she closes the tablet, holding it against her tactical vest like a shield. “Do you think she’s okay there alone at the house?”
“That safe room is one of the best places she can be right now.”
