Page 7 of Code Name: Atticus
“Maybe. But not everyone would have handled it as well as you did.” I sighed. “You have this unwavering integrity, even when it costs you something. That’s why I requested you. Because if I’m going to trust someone with my life—and my career—I want it to be someone who’s proven they’ll put doing what’s right above everything else.”
He was quiet for a long moment, studying me.
“For what it’s worth, turning you down that night was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.”
My heart did a complicated flip in my chest. “Because you felt sorry for me?”
“No.” The way he said it, quiet but firm, made my pulse quicken. “Because you were beautiful and brilliant, and I wanted to say yes more than I’d wanted anything in a long time. But you deserved someone who could give you more than stolen moments. That’s how it would’ve been. We would’ve had to hide from Luke. Hide from everyone.”
The admission hung between us, electric and charged. I felt like a kid again, but this time, the man looking at me wasn’t treating me like one. This time, the heat in his eyes was unmistakable.
And this time, I was old enough to understand how much trouble I was in.
“And now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “The circumstances are different.”
“Are they?” He moved closer, close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his eyes. “You’re still Luke’s sister.”
“But I’m not nineteen anymore.”
“No,” he agreed, his voice rough. “You’re not.”
I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close he was standing.
“We should probably…” he started, then stopped. “If we’re going to convince anyone we’re newlyweds, we should practice. Make sure it looks natural.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “That’s…practical.”
He stepped even closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Just for the mission,” he said quietly, but his eyes said something entirely different.
When his lips met mine, every rational thought evaporated. This wasn’t the awkward, desperate kiss of a nineteen-year-old. This was slow, thorough, and absolutely devastating. My hands fisted in his shirt, and he made a low sound that sent heat spiraling through me.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
The kiss was everything I’d imagined and nothing like I’d expected. Technically perfect for our cover, but the way my entire body responded had nothing to do with acting. My youthful fantasies paled in comparison to the reality of Atticus kissing me like he meant it.
Wait. What was I doing? This was supposed to be professional.
His phone buzzed against the counter, shattering the tension. When he stepped away, I felt the loss just like I had this morning, after he jumped out of bed like the sheets were on fire.
It was good, though. The interruption was what we both needed. A reminder.
“Admiral,” he said, answering on the second ring. “Good morning.”
I busied myself cleaning up the cups while he spoke to his boss. The conversation was brief—confirmation of the videoconference time, logistics about secure connections, mundane details that were far more important than what had happened all those years ago.
“Admiral says they’re ready whenever you are,” he said when he hung up.
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Roger that. I’ll let him know.”
I was prepared; that wasn’t the issue. Instead, I needed to wrap my head around Atticus, in essence, reporting to me, while maintaining appropriate boundaries and being able to complete this assignment without compromising my objectivity.
I just hoped I was a better liar to myself than I’d ever been to anyone else.
But as I headed upstairs to gather my notes, I caught him watching me with an expression that made my knees weak. Whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t going away. If anything, talking about that night had made it stronger, more real.
More perilous.
