DECEIT (B723) - Hazel Grace (the reader ebook .txt) 📗

Emmy coming. When she was new to B723, I thought she’d be just like anyone else except from being drop-dead gorgeous and smart as all shit. Someone with a skill set required for the team and with a hard stomach for torture.

I watched her for three years.

I worked with her and kept my hands to my damn self until I had way too much whiskey, and she got way too close. Add on her amazing fucking ass, and I was a goner way before we secretly became an item.

When Vegas happened.

They say what happens there stays there. Maybe it’s what jinxed us because I wanted to blurt it everywhere to everybody. I want to take her home and have her redo my house. I wanted nights with her in my arms, when I could kiss her when I wanted, fucked her until I couldn’t see straight, and love her because she was everything.

Now staring at the simple white walls with golden framed decor, it’s like she washed me clean from ever being in here. As if her sanctuary was wiped clean of every night and fuck we ever had.

And here I am fucking it up again.

Emmy shifts, feeling my chest against her back, and she snuggles closer. That fucking bottom of hers nestling perfectly against my already hard cock, and I allow my arm to drape around her middle, tugging her more firmly into me. Then she moans.

Fuck me, she moans.

“Morning,” she mutters sleepily. “I didn’t hear you come back last night.”

I stiffen, a blur of red filling my perfect vision of her pressed up to me. “Didn’t hear who come back last night?”

My voice sends Emmy leaping out of my hold, ungracefully stumbling from the mattress and taking half the bed with her.

The white comforter flies in the air, followed by her thudding onto the floor, and I don’t feel sorry.

No, that’s what she gets for doing fuck knows what since taking off two days ago.

“What in the actual fu—“ Emmy makes an effort to stand but gets tangled in the puffy white cloud of her comforter and falls to her knees. “Shit.”

“Have company here last night, Ems?” I lift a brow, impatiently waiting for her to get herself together so I can get my answer.

And I will get it.

Then I’ll kill him.

In front of her for allowing another man to touch what is legally fucking mine.

“How in the hell are you in here?” Her haughty tone is gonna get her spanked if she doesn’t shut it. She’s evading me, I know my wife, so her throwing another question at me isn’t going to get me to forget my previous one.

“I walked in,” I deadpan.

Her pretty brown eyes lock and thin at me, palming the mattress to keep herself from falling again. “No, shit, but how and why?”

“We need to talk.”

Emmy’s face scrunches. “You couldn’t just call me?”

“Why, so you could hang up on me?” My own focus narrows on her because she would—has, and I’m not trying to strangle her today.

“I did that once.” She rolls her eyes and stands on her own, free of bedding and the shock of my being here. “And you need to let shit go.”

I remove myself from her peach-scented sheets that smell just like I remembered and slide off the bed.

Emmy takes a few steps back as I round her furniture, raising her chin to be able to look me in the eye.

She’s right to the middle of my chest without heels, and when she’s in my arms, short legs wrapped around my middle, she’s fucking perfect.

“We need to talk,” I repeat, helping myself to soak her all in.

She’s in a light blue tank top with no bra and short shorts. Fuck me, besides her naked, this was my favorite outfit of Emmy’s.

Casual.

Hair a mess.

No makeup.

Creamy skin and stunning brown eyes.

“Then talk,” she drawls, crossing her arms along her chest. “I’m listening.”

Good, because I think I’m only going to be able to say this once. 

“I need you on this mission.”

“You didn’t want my help, remember?”

“I changed my mind.” Fuck, she smells amazing. “I need you.”

“Bishop.” Her voice is harsh, and I know I crossed a line by sneaking into her room, but I had to see her. I wasn’t going to pour my feelings out over the phone, but at least I could maybe make a point here.

“Mhm?”

“Why are you in my house?” She rubs at her right temple with her lavender-painted fingers. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“I want this done and over with. I need to be able to move on. I’ll go to the Hamptons with you.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t go.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to New York in a few days and—“

“With Alexander.” Her face flinches at his name before recognition dawns.

She’s not stupid by any means. And right now, she doesn’t know how to react because she’s unsure where I’m going with this.

“How?”

“Mills has a big mouth,” I quip with a lift of my shoulders. “You need a better friend.”

Emmy wags a finger at me. “If you’re here to bitch at me…”

“I’d start with how I was able to break in with no fucking problem. Which is astonishing given the fact that you’re so anal about safety.” She moves for the door, and mindlessly I move to wrap my arm around her waist and scoop her in the air.

Her face aligns with mine, my palms cup her perfect ass, and it’s the only effective way to get her to stay the hell still.

Unfortunately, though, she doesn’t bother to wrap her legs around my hips, but she doesn’t need to. I can do it for her.

My hands slide down her soft thighs, coaxing her legs open to where she has to use me as an anchor.

My cock is begging—has been begging—to just take her right here and now. I don’t think she’d protest, but I want her willing on this one.

“How about I make it worth your while,” I propose, letting my palms slide back to her ass.

“How?”

“We might fight a lot, baby…but the sex was phenomenal.” Emmy’s