Page 26 of The Viper
His jaw flexed once, barely there. “Not yet.”
The two words hit harder than they should have.
Not yet.
I wanted to say something clever, but Franklin yelled my name from across the dock, and the spell broke.
“Duty calls,” I said lightly.
Lucas nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave me as I walked away. I could feel them on my back—up and down.
Damn, that man was going to set me on fire. From the inside out.
Benji caught me between takes, leaning on a railing like he’d been waiting. “You’ve got that look,” he said.
“What look?”
“The look you get when you find something shiny you probably shouldn’t touch.”
I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
He glanced toward Lucas, who was checking something on his comms. “Oh, I’m ridiculous? You’ve barely blinked since they assigned you a walking wall with cheekbones.”
“Benji.”
“I’m just saying,” he said, lowering his voice. “He’s clearly into you.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s clearly doing his job.”
“Right,” he said. “Staring at your mouth like it owes him an apology is definitely in the security handbook.”
I bit back a smile. “You’re imagining things.”
He grinned. “I’m an actor, babe. Imagining things is my job. But that guy? He’s not an actor, and he’s definitely not acting.”
I wanted to protest again, but the truth was too warm, too thrilling. Lucas had been watching me. And not just in the way security does—like an assignment. It was something else. Something almost … reverent.
Benji nudged my shoulder. “Careful, Lexi. That one looks like he bites.”
“Maybe I bite back.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Honestly, if I were single—and if he were into guys—I’d be all over that. So, I’m not judging.”
I snorted. “You think he’s that good-looking?”
“Good-looking?” He gave me a look. “Sweetheart, that man is weaponized. Those shoulders alone could get him his own Marvel franchise. The sunglasses, the quiet, the don’t-mess-with-me energy—it’s catnip.”
I tried to hide my smile, failed miserably. “He’s … striking,” I admitted.
“Striking?” Benji rolled his eyes. “That’s what you call a sunset, not a man who looks like he’s built from classified blueprints.”
“Fine,” I said, laughing. “He’s handsome.”
“Handsome,” Benji repeated, savoring the word. “And probably military. You can smell the discipline from here.”
“Military?” I echoed, glancing toward Lucas, who was scanning the crowd with that same razor focus. “I don’t know. He’s too—” I hesitated. “Contained.”
“Exactly,” Benji said. “That’s what makes it hot. Men who’ve seen things, done things, but don’t feel the need to brag about it? That’s the dream.”
