Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
It’d felt too intimidating to go near the lion’s den back then. Now I’d just spent a weekend with the lions’ cocks up my ass.
I took a drag from my smoke and exhaled through my nose, and I— “What?” I furrowed my brow, noticing River observing me.
He smiled. “You’re an expressive thinker.”
I scowled.
Which made his smile grow. “You’re fucking beautiful too.”
Okay, it became a little difficult to hold the scowl. What was he playing at?
“You’re screwing with my head on purpose,” I accused.
“I’m sure as shit not doing it accidentally.” He smirked and blew out some smoke. “No bullshit about what I said, though. It’s been a long time since I looked forward to playing with someone like I do with you.” He took a step closer, and my scowl had pretty much melted away at that point. He tapped my temple. “Tomorrow I’m gonna rape every corner of your mind.”
Holy fuck.
A shudder laced with white-hot lust rolled through me, and never before had a single sentence put me in a freaking daze like that. There was worry too, worry that they’d succeed in opening up parts of me that I’d rather keep lock— Wait.
“T-tomorrow?” I asked dumbly and blinked.
“Mm.” He took my cigarette from me and put both of them out in the pot on the floor. Then he ushered me inside and closed the door. “Can’t play mind games until you’re warmed up.”
Oh…so he was, what, going to do other stuff to me tonight?
“You can set the table while I take a shower. Reese should be here soon with dinner.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer for himself. After twisting off the cap, he took a swig and smacked a kiss to my cheek before heading toward the stairs.
All right, then. Set the table. Warm up before mental rape. Good plan.
Reese was bizarrely great at cooking. In my limited experience anyway. The recipe, according to River, came from a Swedish former soldier they’d worked with once, and the dish had to be served a certain way. The meatloaf itself managed to be both dense and light, not to mention rich in flavor—with lots of black pepper. Served with baby potatoes, caramelized onions, freaking lingonberry jam on the side, and it all swam in a pool of creamy green pepper gravy.
Reese had put away River’s beer too, because we each got one glass of milk and one glass of lingonberry lemonade, conveniently purchased at the nearest IKEA.
The jam wasn’t my favorite, but I enjoyed the fuck out of the whole Sunday dinner around the table feel. Proper home cooking was something I hadn’t had since my parents died. My aunt tried. She tried very hard, but anything over four ingredients required a fire extinguisher nearby because she became forgetful when she had to concentrate, and so it understandably made my brothers and me freakishly anxious.
“Tell your Swedish friend it’s a great recipe,” I said around a mouthful of food. “Have you worked with a Greek soldier by any chance?”
Reese chuckled and took a swig of his milk.
I went with another question, because kidding aside, I was curious about their past. “So y’all worked as private military contractors, right?” At least, that’s what their hints had told me. Everyone who lived in DC knew someone—or knew someone who knew someone—who never divulged much about their job in the “private sector.” Which somehow often involved single men with a background in the military, and they lived in condos paid for by the government.
“Sort of,” Reese replied.
I could already tell they weren’t going to answer any random questions very willingly. River had gone silent and directed his attention to his meal, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He was a quiet guy. But Reese appeared a pinch more guarded.
It was best to keep it light, I figured. “Did you do any Hollywood-worthy extractions and save a bunch of people?”
The tension disappeared from Reese’s shoulders, and he snorted softly. “The only one I had to save repeatedly was that guy.” He nodded at his twin.
I shifted my gaze to River as he smirked a little and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“We worked in intelligence,” he said. “Or I did. Reese was my security detail. The only thing I extracted was information.”
That still sounded cool. Way cooler than my career goals.
“I guess that makes sense…” In a way. Not entirely. “You’re the observer, and Reese is the…fighter?”
“He’s all over the place,” River corrected. “He thrives on having a lot to do. He’s a safety guy, and he’s both book-smart and street-smart. I’m…”
“Single-focused,” Reese supplied. Then he lifted a brow at me and smirked. “I’m the guy who knows a fair amount about a lot of things. River is a specialized expert in human behavior and profiling. Once he fixes his attention on you, he’ll leave no stone unturned.”