Page 73 of What Remains

He has one palm propped on the frame, body angled toward me. He’s wearing the white tee I picked out for him, jeans, and the new trainers. (He must’ve snuck in a load of laundry between this morning and now.) His hat is on backward, hair long enough now to flip up a little at the back. A few unruly strands at the front try to escape, and honestly, it should be illegal to look that good with bed-head energy.

When he lifts his head, his eyes meet mine. Deep, dark, and burning.

God, this man. Masculine. Sharp-edged. Handsome in a way that I’ve tried to ignore for years. But now? Well, it’s clear I absolutely do find my not-a-bestie best friend attractive. Painfully so.

I wait for him to say something. Anything. To address that text I sent on purpose. He doesn’t. Just stares with parted lips like he forgot how to speak.

“You’re here outside my door because . . .?”

His brows lift. “We’re down the hall from each other, not across the ocean. We can talk in person instead of text.”

I prop the door open with my shoulder so I can fold my arms. “Soooo”—I smile—“talk.”

“I don’t like you alone in here.”

That seems to be the consensus.

His eyes dip to my lips briefly. “You should be with me.”

“I won’t argue there,” I say like a reflex, and that’s the most blatant I’ve ever let myself be about questioning out loud whether there could be more between us.

I can practically see the text bubbles coming and going between us as he tries to figure out what to say.

“My skills, yes?” I decide to help him out. “The team needs my skills.”

He begins chewing his gum that must’ve been stuck between his back teeth. Typical Easton.

His forehead creases, and he keeps chewing but with his mouth closed. I can only tell he’s working that gum damn hard based on his jaw muscle that’s covered in a perfect amount of stubble. He always rocks the forever-a-five-o’clock-shadow look. An aesthetic I didn’t know I loved until him. “Julian is good. You two together are better.”

You two together are better. Why’d that comment sting? And now I’m curious again what they talked about in the bedroom on the plane. But I have no plans to try and ask about that again. Not today, anyway.

“Two cyber masterminds are better than one?” I hope that’s all he meant. “Add in Natasha, and we’ve got three of the best.” And I’m super grateful for both of them, because they’re working on so many things I should be doing myself, but my head is still a bit of a mess.

I step forward without letting the door shut. He doesn’t back up like I half expect him to at the erasure of space. He keeps his hand on the doorframe as I do something risky. The kind of risky that makes my pulse trip over itself. I reach for his tee and lift it a smidge.

He has on a brown leather belt, and above the line of his jeans is exactly what I was searching for.

I check for a reaction from him. No, not below the belt, above his chest.

His throat works, one hard swallow he probably didn’t want me to see.

“Ralph Lauren. Nice choice.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw, and he inhales once before trapping it behind clenched teeth.

“Feel better with these on? Or did you get used to it being drafty down there?”

His fingers flex against the doorframe, the only sign he’s not made of granite. “My drawers should never have been your concern.” With his free hand, he captures my wrist, and I drop his shirt.

“Drawers. Underwear. Knickers. Panties. What other words can we add to my vocabulary?”

He doesn’t speak. From what I can tell, he barely even breathes.

“Everything good?” Gray’s voice shatters the quiet between us. Well, Natasha did warn me Dad would send someone to check on me soon, so I should have been expecting an interruption.

“We’re, uh, fine,” I say as Easton lets me go and faces my uncle.

Gray stops before us, folding his arms as if I’m only Elaina’s age, and Easton’s about to get the third degree before taking me on our first date. “Your dad sent me to check on you. He’s worried you’ll get upset if he asks whether you’re okay even one more time.”