Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

That was all

she needed to round out the most humiliating week of her life.

“Breakfast and coffee, sunshine,” he called out from the kitchen as she paused in the living room and glared at him in irritation.

“I told you”—and she had, just the morning before—“I don’t do breakfast.”

“And I told you”—no, he had badgered her—“breakfast is the most important part of the day.”

She wanted him, bare-chested, wearing nothing but low-slung jeans, his feet bare, his hair damp, for breakfast. Rather than fighting another useless battle, she moved to the kitchen table and gratefully accepted the coffee. She stared at the eggs, bacon, and toast he set before her. Hell, she might as well eat. She was too damned tired to fight with him.

“You didn’t sleep well last night,” he commented as he carried his own plate, minus the bacon, and cup to the table. Swinging his leg over the chair, he sat down and sipped at his coffee. “I hope I’m not distracting you.”

He was so damned cheerful she wanted to snarl at him in violent irritation.

“I’m used to sleeping alone,” she reminded him for what had to be the hundredth time. “I don’t sleep well with you in the bed with me.”

“You’ll get used to me.” He nodded as though it were a foregone conclusion.

In his dreams she would get used to him.

“We have to go out today,” he informed her as she bit into her toast. “We need to take you clothes shopping.”

“I have clothes.” She sipped at her coffee to wash down the toast.

“New lovers always go clothes shopping,” he told her. “Morganna circled it at the top of the list of things we should do immediately. If Orion’s going to strike soon, then we need to control each time he has that chance. So we’re going shopping.”

She shrugged. Fine, they’d go shopping. That didn’t mean she had to actually buy anything.

“You can throw out those baggy-assed clothes before we go and make room for the new stuff I’m buying you,” he told her, causing her to pause, her fork inches from her mouth, to stare back at him in surprised anger.

“I don’t need new clothes.” The fork clattered to her plate. “Don’t get out of hand in this, Micah. I can’t afford a new wardrobe, and what’s more, I like my clothes fine.”

“But I’m your new lover and I don’t like them,” he informed her as he swallowed his eggs. “You hide in those clothes, and as your lover, I’d never allow you to hide that gorgeous body of yours.”

Her lips thinned. “Look, let’s not play games here.” Her fingers gripped the edge of the table. “My body doesn’t concern you one way or the other. Neither do my clothes. We’ll go through the motions and leave it at that.”

His expression was composed, cool. It was always composed and cool. He hadn’t gotten angry in the past two days; he hadn’t argued with her. He had been like a steamroller just pushing her where he wanted her to go.

She pushed her plate back and opened her mouth to argue when his gaze lifted.

“Do you really want to turn this into a battle?” he asked her carefully.

Did she? There was something in his eyes the past two days that had made her wary of pushing him.

“Fine,” she snapped. “I didn’t have anything else planned. If you want to waste your hard-earned cash, that’s your business. As long as we don’t use my money for a bunch of clothes I neither need nor want.”

He nodded. “Agreed. Finish your breakfast so you don’t collapse on me, then. You look sleepy, sweets. Drowsy and sensual. It looks good on you. If Orion’s watching, maybe he’ll at least suspect I’m fucking you.”

A flush washed up her cheeks at the thought of the dreams she had had during the few hours she had actually slept.

Dreams that were vivid, sexual. Dreams where he demanded she fuck him, ride him, where he spoke to her in explicit, naughty words that only made her wilder.

“Let’s hope he tries to kill me soon then,” she said in irritation. “Or I might kill you while we are waiting.”

“Didn’t your grandmother say you were even-tempered?” he asked her suspiciously. “I could have sworn she mentioned that when she was here yesterday.”

Risa really wanted to forget that visit. Her grandmother had watched them both suspiciously, as though trying to decide if they were actually having sex. It had been embarrassing. Before her grandmother finally left, she had glared at Micah and fretted over Risa as though she were an invalid. Risa didn’t want to remember it, and she didn’t want to discuss any portion of it.