Page 22 of Deep Cover

But his gaze never left her as he crossed to the door, leaving the searing imprint of it long after he walked out.

SIX

Rivers had no business watching the sway of Caryssa’s hips as she ran. Knowing that didn’t stop him.

Then he’d gone and kissed her and ruined any fragile link that might be growing between them again.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, his cock as hard as steel.

He couldn’t have her, not after what he’d done. Monk and Rome, and men from other Blackout teams, might have changed the rules to meet their needs, but even if he chose that path, Caryssa would never be his.

Fuck.

The urge to spill his guts to her, to break his non-disclosure agreement and explain why he walked out of her life the way he had, burned through him.

He stared at the concrete floor between his feet until his eyes blurred. He blinked to clear his vision, but nothing would erase the image of Caryssa in his head.

Her on the treadmill, sprinting at a punishing incline and pace, her ponytail swinging with every stride. She’d always been the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, but there was a confidence in the way she moved now that made her harder to look away from.

Then there was the way she looked at him—as if she hated him and wanted him in the same breath.

The moment their gazes met, he wanted to cross the gym and show her precisely how long six years of wanting could build up in one man.

Then he couldn’t hold back another second and kissed her. The soft crush of her lips against his and her taste had him shaking for so much more, and it ended too soon.

He told himself it had to be enough, even as he knew one taste wouldn’t begin to quench the need inside him.

Cutting his fingers through his hair, he issued a low curse. Sleep was out of the question at this early hour and he wasn’t in the mood to play poker or hang with the guys who would make jabs about his former relationship.

What he needed was a cold shower, even though he already knew it wouldn’t do much. He’d taken more cold showers because of Caryssa than he cared to admit.

With a low sigh, he grabbed a towel from the foot of his bed and headed down the hall. His footsteps were soft as he passed the common room where Jolie and Stina sat cross-legged on the floor, backs against the sofa, deep in some crochet project. They didn’t look up.

He headed down the hall past equipment closets and storage rooms, his mind still tangled in the memory of his mouth on Caryssa’s. He was three steps past the women’s shower when he registered running water.

And the ladies were occupied with their yarn.

He jerked to a halt, pulse hammering with the only logical reason the water could be running.

Caryssa was in there.

He told himself he should have kept walking as he grabbed the doorknob and twisted. When it turned easily, his heart surged against his ribs.

His body blazed with possibilities that had everything to do with her being naked and wet and them being alone.

Had everything to do with two kisses that weren’t nearly enough.

The door swung open, and steam rolled out to meet him.

There she was beneath the far showerhead, water sluicing down her bare skin.

Gloriously fucking naked.

Her head was tipped back, eyes closed. Suddenly, she jerked toward him.

Through the steam, her stare met his. Neither of them moved.

“Occupied.”