Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
After the session, Mirage went to their personal locker room while Grace spoke with their weapons specialist about upgrading his firearms with a laser sight.
He didn’t know when he wrapped that up, but Mirage didn’t see or hear him in the showers.
Attempting to avoid Grace, Mirage got into the hot tub to soak his muscles.
Those simulations were so realistic that the exertion needed to fight and defeat it was almost equivalent to an actual battle.
He reclined in the steaming depths and rested his head on a thick towel balanced on the edge of the tub.
After several minutes, his body began to relax, and the rapid pounding of his temple slowed.
Mirage groaned long and loud. Fuck, that feels good.
“I suggest you don’t make that sound again.”
Shit.
Mirage’s cock took notice of Grace’s voice before his mind did.
He hoped his boxers concealed his predicament, and Grace couldn’t see his hardness beneath the churning water.
Mirage opened his eyes to see Grace standing on the stairs to the tub with a short white towel cinched low on his hips.
Every inch of Grace was sculpted perfection, from his broad shoulders and chiseled chest to his tight waist and strong thighs.
His partner was a living Michelangelo masterpiece.
Mirage was expressionless as if he were unaffected by Grace’s presence. Until Grace pulled his towel off and tossed it behind him.
Mirage almost swallowed his fucking tongue.
There was no way he could fake his shock, staring at Grace’s thick, half-erect cock as he descended into the water.
Grace demanded eye contact as he positioned himself on the other side of the tub with his arms outstretched along the edge.
Mirage gave him what he wanted, but it took every ounce of his self-control.
He glared into Grace’s smoky eyes, refusing to let him win.
Their staring contest lasted long enough to be considered torture before Grace spoke two words in the rawest, sexiest voice Mirage had heard him use.
“Forgive me.”
Mirage released an internal groan. Those two words together shouldn’t be in their vocabulary, and it wasn’t a request. It was an order.
Are you fuckin’ serious?
It only pissed Mirage off even more when he thought of the countless years he’d fought his urges to touch Grace in the way Grace had done last night. And how Grace had done it without thought, had just taken what he wanted, when he wanted.
Mirage didn’t realize he was scowling until Grace pushed off the tiles and came toward him.
Grace stalked him with mouthwatering intimidation, moving to the soundtrack of his own erotic film.
Mirage was thankful Grace’s lower half was submerged under the frothy water because his chest was distracting enough.
He inhaled to get his bearings, but all he got was the harsh stench of chlorine up his nose.
Grace didn’t stop until he had Mirage caged between his impressive biceps.
Mirage swallowed a mass of lust and excitement as Grace leaned in until their upper bodies were touching and his lips were against the rim of Mirage’s ear.
“I’ve never apologized to anyone in my fuckin’ life, Mirage.” Grace’s guttural growl vibrated Mirage’s chest. “So you will forgive me.”
His name in that menacing tone made chills ripple down his spine despite being engulfed in one hundred-degree water.
Grace pressed their chests closer until Mirage could feel the rhythm of their combined heartbeats.
His dick was a steel rod in his shorts, throbbing to the same beat of his pulse.
He turned until his lips were against the sexy roughness of Grace’s throat.
Mirage knew his voice would sound breathy and desperate, but he couldn’t help that.
“Make sure this is the last time I have to.”
Grace hummed in acknowledgment, holding their contact a moment longer before Mirage brushed his body against Grace’s, biting his bottom lip at the first feel of his partner’s wet skin against his, and got out of the tub.
Grace
Last night was Grace’s turn to not get any sleep, his heart still racing from his display of boldness in the hot tub.
At least now he knew Mirage was feeling the same as him.
Grace had jerked off three times before midnight—addicted to and welcoming this new excitement—and his dick was still hard.
Grace held himself in a relaxed grip.
He’d forgotten how fucking good wild hormones felt.
He was still high on dopamine when he met Spectre in the gun range for his six a.m. target practice.
His ballistics team had a generous buffet of handguns laid out for him to inspect, but he could barely feast on their beauty.
Not when Mirage was a few yards away, testing his new throwing knives.
Grace wanted him closer…like on top of him.
Grace wasn’t beaming or showing rows of white teeth. His expression was still stoic and unreadable…but on the inside.
He liked how light and warm it felt in there.
To stay focused on today’s training, Grace had bypassed breakfast in the cafeteria with Mirage and made himself eggs benedict in his apartment.
When Mirage was outside first thing in the morning, his dirty-blond rebellious hair looked like the golden sunrise, and he smelled too damn good at the start of the day.