Page 26 of Code Name: Atticus

After five minutes stretched into ten, I found myself checking my watch like I was her boyfriend instead of her mission partner, which was both pathetic and terrifying.

The sliding door finally opened, and she slipped back inside, ending the call. Her cheeks were still flushed and her breathing elevated like she’d been arguing or—Christ—flirting.

“Sorry about that.”

“At almost ten o’clock on a work night?”

She pulled out a mixing bowl from one of the cabinets, avoiding my gaze. “Time zones. You know how it is.”

Time zones. Right. She was having intimate late-night conversations with someone in a different time zone. We were on the West Coast. Where the hell were they? Not to mention, it was someone important enough that she’d risked security to talk to them privately.

“Boyfriend?”

Her hands stilled on the cabinet handle. “What?”

“The friend you were talking to. Is he your boyfriend?”

Her blue eyes flashed. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re hiding.”

That got her attention. She spun around and raised the spatula like a weapon. “I’m not hiding.”

“No? Then, why won’t you look at me?”

“I didn’t like what you did.”

“Did?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Mason Finch. You were playing games. Like a jerk.”

My eyes opened wide. “Like a jerk?”

“Stop repeating me. Yes. Actually, no. Like an asshole.”

“Explain.”

She huffed, picked both pancakes up from the pan, and dumped them back in the bowl. “I lost my appetite,” she said, tossing the mix in the sink after turning off the heat on the stove.

I followed her up the stairs. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“The hell, it isn’t.”

She tried to shut the bedroom door on me, but I held it open. “You want to know the truth?”

“I already know it. Your goal was to humiliate me, and you accomplished it with flying colors.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, and I sat down beside her. “You’re wrong.”

“You’re a liar.”

Her words hurt, but I knew the place they were coming from—her hurt. “I need you to listen to me,” I said in a lower tone of voice. “Please.”

Brenna shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what you say; I don’t want to hear it.” She got up from the bed, but before she could get away, I put my arm around her waist and pulled her onto my lap.

“The truth is, if I hadn’t stopped when I did, I would have kissed my way up your thigh until I reached the spot that’s been driving me crazy since you walked into that bar. I would have spread you open on that bed and tasted you until you screamed my name.”

Her lips parted, and a soft sound that went straight to my cock escaped.