Page 47 of Deep Cover

He wasn’t making that mistake with Caryssa.

And there was no fucking way he was watching the woman he loved walk out of here with Rorke, Younger or anyone else guarding her.

“Rivers, Lane, you’re dismissed.” Cannon’s words set him in motion.

He gave her a small nod, and she took a hesitant step away from the board. Realizing she still gripped the marker, she capped it and set it on the table. Then she moved toward Rivers.

The sight hit him harder than it should have.

Caryssa walking toward him.

Because some part of him still believed that was where she belonged.

As they walked in silence down the hallway, he paused at the small desk near the exit and pulled a hood from the drawer.

Caryssa spotted the hood in his hand. “Don’t bother. I told Rorke I already know where we are. Under the Montclair Ski Resort.” She didn’t even break stride.

He huffed a laugh and fell a step behind her. “I forgot who I was dealing with.”

“Try to keep up, Reid.”

There she was. That little flash of attitude he remembered so damn well.

And now he really wished they were headed to bed instead of a post office in Portland.

In a narrow stretch of the tunnel, his shoulder brushed hers. “What about a blindfold instead?” He kept his tone light and teasing even though his pulse picked up.

His innuendo caused her to falter a step. But he was on it.

He whipped around and pressed her against the wall, his mouth inches from hers.

Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths and her eyelashes fanned downward over her flushed cheeks.

He lowered his mouth until it hovered barely a breath away. “Or maybe handcuffs?”

For a moment she was frozen in place. Then she reached up and gave his cheek a light pat that made him think of a kindly aunt patting a child on the head.

“Cute. But we have work to do, special operator.” She ducked under his arm and continued down the tunnel.

He stood there for a second, watching her go, a ridiculous grin breaking over his face.

She hadn’t said yes to his lurid suggestion.

She hadn’t said no either.

In three long strides, he caught up and matched her pace, still fighting that ridiculous grin.

A trip to the post office had no business feeling this damn good.

* * * * *

Caryssa stole a peek at Reid from under her lashes. He sat in the driver’s seat, hands loose on the wheel, his forearms corded with muscles that hadn’t been there years go. Every time he adjusted his grip, the tendons flexed, and she couldn’t stop staring at his fingers, long and sure against the black leather.

Her stomach quivered at the memory of exactly how those same fingers had felt inside her the night before, how thoroughly they’d undone her.

But she didn’t know this version of Reid. The man she remembered would never have argued a direct order from his commanding officer.

And somehow, that wasn’t the strangest thing to happen to her this week.