Page 44

Mirage

Mirage stepped over the strategically placed trackers and left Grace’s apartment while his breathing was still relaxed and the usual creases in his forehead were smooth.

But he knew Grace wasn’t asleep. It was impossible to sneak up or out on an assassin.

After Mirage wiped his seed off Grace’s back with his T-shirt, they’d dozed off in the same position they’d orgasmed in.

What would seem like the most uncomfortable position to sleep in gave him the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

The way Grace sighed throughout the night, as if he were dreaming of floating, the position seemed the same for him.

Mirage left before dawn, and Grace didn’t stop him.

He did it because he wanted to give his partner a chance to do his usual morning routine and get his bearings before it was time for them to do today’s training.

Mirage continued to steal glances at Grace while they worked out in the gym.

He’d been running on the treadmill for almost two hours, and Grace was lifting weights, alternating between powerlifting and calisthenics.

Watching Grace’s back muscles flex and his biceps bulge made Mirage remember the way Grace had tensed beneath him while he whispered in his ear and thrust his cock against his ass.

An ass he was damn near salivating over while watching Grace squat an impressive seven hundred pounds.

Mirage almost tripped twice.

After ten sets, Grace released the bar and let it fall to the floor. The loud bang snapped Mirage out of his daydream.

Grace turned to face him. His chest was heaving, and sweat dripped down his temples and between his pecs.

Mirage licked his lips and slowed his pace to cool down while their eyes remained locked.

The workout room was large and kept at a comfortable temperature, but the air between them was thick and stifling.

Darkness clouded Grace’s gaze like a brewing tornado.

Mirage read Grace’s body language. He wanted more of him…now.

Adrenaline and endorphins scorched through Mirage like heroin.

He powered down the treadmill, grabbed his towel, and stepped off the machine.

He and Grace headed toward the locker room, but before they could get through the double doors, Spectre came in with a thick folder in his hands and a serious expression on his face.

“Browns, we’re FPL Delta. You’re both needed in the strategy room at fourteen hundred.”

Fuck .

In one hour, they’d be debriefed for a new mission.

Grace’s expression was impassive, but Mirage could see the threat of danger made his right temple pulse.

It was the same threat level Ex and Meridian responded to.

Mirage wasn’t concerned.

The last several missions they’d gone on had been FPL Charlie, but they’d all escalated to close-contact, life-threatening situations, and they’d adjusted accordingly.

Mirage could no longer see the deep rise and fall of his chest as if his partner’s heart had slowed to a crawl.

Coldness crept up Mirage’s spine when Grace turned away from him.

Oh no, you don’t.

He caught up and fell into Grace’s steps.

“Nothing’s changed,” he whispered.

Grace grunted his disagreement before he stopped in front of his locker to grab his toiletries.

No one was in there with them. It was the Ravens’ locker room, and no other staff was allowed except for the couple who cleaned and kept the towels stocked.

There was no risk of anyone seeing their intimacy.

Ex and Meridian were rarely at headquarters at the same time as them. It was how the handlers preferred it, and it was their duty to ensure they never came into contact with the other.

Lions and grizzlies should never share a territory.

Grace severed their connection, grabbed his bag, and went toward the showers in silence.

Mirage felt an invisible fist punch him in the chest. He ignored the ache, grabbed his own toiletries, and went after his partner.

His touch would be able to calm him.

Mirage followed the discarded gym shorts and briefs Grace had dropped to the floor while stripping out of his own clothes.

Mirage entered the same stall as Grace and found him with both hands pressed against the tiles, his head lowered while the hot water beat on his shoulders.

Mirage got in his usual position behind Grace and drove his palms up Grace’s spine until he was touching the tight muscles between his shoulders.

Before he could manipulate them, Grace growled, “Leave ’em.”

Mirage closed his eyes and rested his forehead there instead.

His partner wanted to feel the tension, the pressure of the mission that lay ahead.

Don’t do this to us, Grace. Not now.