Page 37 of Viper

Once Striker arrived, he might insist Paige stay with him instead. If that was the case . . . well, he’d feel like a goddamn idiot.

He’d come here for Paige. To make right all the shit he’d made wrong. And with her brother underfoot, a new highway of wrong would stand between them.

His phone beeped on the coffee table. He checked the screen and found a text from Havoc.

Hope you know your soon-to-be brother-in-law is bringing the whole gang. I know this isn’t what you had in mind when you left for Florida.

Hell. Now he’d have to do the walk of shame back to Pittsburgh with his whole team as witness to his failure.

Everyone’s coming? he replied.

Rogue stayed back to be with Emmy and Laine. But me, Striker, Wraith, and Reaper will be there in the morning. Our flight leaves first thing.

He bit the inside of his cheek. He shouldn’t be mad. The fact that he was revealed how far he’d traveled from what was important. When shit went wrong, Phantom Ops came together. He should’ve known the whole crew would come with Striker.

And he’d need all the manpower he could get to find Craig without wasting time. He couldn’t do that while keeping Paige safe.

He’d have to accept the fact that blue was the new look for his balls. Getting to his feet, he stormed into the kitchen.

If he couldn’t satisfy his hunger for Paige, he’d satisfy his stomach with the platter of leftover spaghetti that probably wasn’t even cold yet.

Chapter Ten

Paige rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock on the nightstand: 2:48 a.m. She’d lain awake for almost an hour after sleeping for two. Her mind ran like the fifty-two tabs open on her laptop. Next thing she knew, music would start playing randomly. She’d welcome it, rather than stay stuck with the thoughts currently ping-ponging through her brain like the drugs she’d been given.

What if Craig had added something else to her cocktail that’d gone unnoticed in the blood test? Yes, they’d pumped her stomach, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of untraceable substance in her veins.

Anxiety skittered up her throat. She needed to shut down her thoughts, but every time she closed her eyes, she was afraid she wouldn’t open them again. Maybe she was better off staying awake.

The fact that Troy was outside her room eased her mind a little. At least Craig wouldn’t get to her while she slept. He might be a sneaky, resourceful prick, but he was no match for Troy. If she hadn’t been stupid and had said no to that second margarita⁠—

No.

She couldn’t keep going in circles. Flopping onto her side to face the wall, she heaved a breath and did the one thing that always put her at ease. She conjured up an image of Troy in her mind.

Normally, she’d pull one of her favorite fantasies from her internal library. Now, she had the best real-life moment—him taking her out of the bathtub. Desire thrummed through her core. The memory of his large, hulking form bundling her in a towel and carrying her to the bedroom had fit every pathetic fantasy she’d had about him . . . and stopped short at the worst possible moment.

Like a true gentleman, he’d bidden her good night and left her half naked on the bed. He might think he’d scored brownie points for that one, but little did he know she’d just wanted him to strip off the towel and rail her into next week.

Good god, Paige.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. This was what dry spells did to a girl. Made her into some deprived, depraved little slut who just needed to get her brains fucked out by her brother’s best friend.

Wetness coated her panties, and she buried her face in her pillow and let out a low, barely audible scream. She was either going to have to take matters into her own hands or . . . or . . .

She inhaled slowly and rolled into a sitting position.

This was stupid. They were both adults. Both wanted each other. And surely he was at least half as horny as she was.

He’d talked about the line between them growing thinner. Well, she was ready to erase the whole damn thing.

“Troy!” she called, before she chickened out.

Footsteps pounded down the hall, matching the drumming of her heart. The bedroom door flew open and he crossed the hardwood. Light from the hall spilled in behind him, illuminating his black boxer briefs and every bare inch above and below.

Her mouth went dry.

He flicked on the bedside lamp. “What’s the matter? Are you in pain?” He cupped her jaw, forcing her to look up at him.