Page 78 of Rogue Mission
“But she’s alone.”
“Ryker called in a favor.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Some military contact. The guy lives in the area. He’s watching the house. But I could tell Ryker would rather be there himself.”
“Romantic!” she says on an exhale as she flutters her fingers over her heart.
“Is everything romantic?”
She sighs, her mouth pursing. “Maybe it’s the rose-colored lenses. Or the orgasms, but since we can’t talk about sex, then I think you should go over the mission plan one more time.”
I shake my head to get my mind right. For the next ten minutes, I run down the mission plans. Rosalie nods, listening intently still as I park in the deepest shadows under a group of trees.
The night is dark, the shadows even more, giving us an ideal spot to leave the truck.
She’s raring to go. “Okay. I’m ready. I’ve got my bear?—”
I grab her vest’s shoulder strap with one hand, loop my other around the back of her neck, pulling her toward me until we’re just inches apart.
“I need to tell you something,” I say, roughly.
She moistens her lips, gaze locked on me. “Okay. I’m listening.”
God, that look. The trust she has in me. I don’t fucking deserve it. But I crave it.
Is this supposed to be like this?
Is the obsession I have for her, the dark, possessive thoughts, the utter craving for the feel of her skin, normal?
“Sweetheart,” I start, my throat dry as sawdust, but warmth fills every bit of my bone marrow, like sunshine was just shot through me. “I love you.”
I let that hang in the air for a beat before I add, “I’m not only putting a tracking necklace on you, I’m putting a ring on your finger.”
For a second she just stares, hard, and I can see the cogs whirring in her powerful brain.
“Oh!” She starts to blink adorably. Rapidly. “That’s not what I expected you to say at all.”
I chuckle, my thumb brushing over the pulse-point in her neck. The place where my mouth needs to be. Right damned now. “What did you expect?”
“One of those stern drill-sergeant lectures that you see on Netflix before the military people go into the mission.”
I’m grinning when I lean in and take the kiss I need. She meets me just as hungrily, her hands finding my tactical vest as I slide my fingers into her hair, dragging her closer with the other hand.
A flash of light cuts through the rear of the SUV.Ryker. Damn him.
She pulls back and exhales hard, her fingers finding the glistening surface of her lower lip. “Wow, that was some pep talk.”
“Come on. Let’s go, before I drag you into the back seat.”
She picks up her can of bear spray—fuck me—her expression so adorable it hurts, and says, “By the way, I really like lab-grown diamonds…because they’re SUPER cool. Did you know they are made by crushing carbon molecules with a force of nearly 60,000 times the atmospheric pressure?Andit’s done at an insane 1600°C.”
Never. Ever. In my life did I expect to think science is sexy.
But never did I expect to be completely taken out at the knees by a short, curvy brunette who clearly has my number.
“Duly noted,” I rumble. “Now, please, whatever you do, donotshoot me in the face with the bear spray.”
