19. Lyric
CHAPTER 19
LYRIC
I’ve spent my entire career building walls between who I am and who I pretend to be, but those walls were crumbling like sand castles against the tide of Flynn Shepherd.
The first rule of undercover work: never let yourself believe the lies you’re telling. You’re always acting, always wearing a mask.
That’s what made Flynn so dangerous. He made me want to slip off all the disguises and just be... me. Whoever that was.
I hadn’t been “just Lyric” in so long I wasn’t sure I remembered how.
But I couldn’t be Lyric now. I had to be Elisa. And tonight, she had to be perfect.
I walked across the deck of Moreau’s yacht, champagne glass in hand, the salty Mediterranean breeze flaring my gauzy swimsuit cover-up behind me like a cape. The sun was setting, splashing the horizon with flaming oranges and pinks.
I could feel both Moreau’s and Flynn’s gazes on me. Moreau’s was lecherous. Flynn’s was like a caress I felt through every nerve ending in my body. He stayed at a respectable distance, tracking my every move from where he stood at the railing, playing the part of the vigilant bodyguard.
And yet he might as well be touching me for all the heat his gaze sent radiating through my body.
I shifted my weight, feeling the slide of silk against my skin, and took a slow sip of champagne. The bubbles sparkled on my tongue as I let my gaze wander over the assembled crowd. A dozen of the world’s most dangerous people mingled on the deck, all dressed in resort wear that probably cost more than most people’s cars. Moreau was holding court in the middle of the crowd, but his eyes kept finding me across the deck, his smile predatory.
“You’re drawing his attention,” Flynn murmured as I passed him, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“That’s the point,” I replied through my smile, not breaking stride.
I felt rather than saw Flynn stiffen beside me. The muscle in his jaw ticked—a clear sign he was fighting to keep his composure. To anyone watching, he was the consummate professional. Only I could see the storm brewing behind those amber eyes.
Moreau broke away from his circle of admirers and made his way toward me, his gaze drifting down my body with unhurried appreciation. The yacht was massive, but suddenly there wasn’t enough air.
“Ms. Deveraux,” he said, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. “You look ravishing. The sea air agrees with you.”
“As does your champagne,” I replied, tipping my glass toward him. “Excellent vintage.”
“Only the best for my guests.” His hand settled at the small of my back, fingers splaying possessively. “I was disappointed by our last encounter. I hope tonight will be more... satisfying.”
I forced myself to lean into his touch, though every nerve in my body screamed in protest. “I’m here to do business, Mr. Moreau. The rest depends on how impressed I am by your merchandise.”
His laugh was low and intimate. “Always the negotiator. I admire that about you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Flynn shift his weight, his hand drifting toward the concealed weapon beneath his jacket. I gave him the slightest head shake—a warning to stand down.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, deliberately stepping away from Moreau’s touch.
“Patience, Ms. Deveraux.” Moreau’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll reach our destination by midnight.”
I gave playful pout. “No hints? Not even for me?”
“Especially not for you.” His gaze flicked to Flynn, then back to me. “Your... guard dog seems tense tonight. Perhaps he should try to relax. This is a social gathering, after all.”
“Colt takes his job very seriously.” I sipped my champagne, letting the bubbles dissolve on my tongue. “It’s why I keep him around.”
“Is that the only reason?” Moreau stepped closer, invading my space again. His cologne was expensive but cloying, like something rotting beneath the surface. “I’ve noticed how he watches you. Not quite professional, is it?”
My heart stuttered, but I kept my expression bland. “I already told you we’re lovers. He can be possessive. But I assure you, in the end, he knows his place.”
Moreau’s eyes glinted with something dark. “Does he? I wonder.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Perhaps we should test those boundaries tonight.”
I suppressed a shiver, keeping my expression carefully neutral. “Are you trying to make him jealous, Monsieur Moreau? That seems beneath you.”
“Can you make a dog jealous?”
I felt Flynn’s presence before I saw him—the shift in air pressure, the subtle change in Moreau’s expression. Then Flynn was there, a solid wall of controlled aggression at my shoulder.
“You want to touch her, you go through me,” Flynn growled, his hand closing around my wrist with possessive force, yanking me back against his chest.
The shift was so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment I couldn’t process what was happening. Flynn had broken character. The careful facade of professional detachment had cracked, revealing something raw and dangerous underneath.
Moreau’s eyes lit with triumph, a slow smile spreading across his face. He hadn’t been testing me; he’d been baiting Flynn. And Flynn had taken it, hook, line, and sinker.
“I guess so,” Moreau laughed, clearly delighted by this development.
I dug my nails into Flynn’s hand, trying to get him to release me without making a scene.
He didn’t.
I wanted to kick him.
Instead, I pasted on a placating smile. “Oh, there’s a bit of a chill in the air now, isn’t there? I think I should like to freshen up and change before we reach our destination.”
Moreau’s gaze dropped to my chest. I wasn’t lying about the chill, and my nipples had pebbled under my bikini top. I let him look, even though I could all but feel Flynn spitting fire beside me.
After an uncomfortably long perusal, Moreau inclined his head. “Of course. The staff will show you to your cabin.”
Flynn’s hand was firm at my elbow as he guided me away, his grip just shy of painful.
“Oh, and Elisa?” Moreau called after us. “Dress for a party.”
The moment we were out of earshot, Flynn leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “What the hell was that?”
“That was me doing my job,” I hissed, maintaining my smile for the benefit of watching eyes. “So back off.”
“Your job isn’t to let him paw at you like a piece of meat.”
When we reached the lower deck, I rounded on him. “This is exactly why you-know-who had concerns. You can’t separate personal from professional.”
Flynn’s eyes blazed. “He’s testing us. Testing you.”
“He’s just a predator who thinks he’s found new prey to play with.”
A crew member in white appeared at the end of the hallway, and I immediately slipped back into character, leaning into Flynn with a sultry laugh. “You’re so protective, darling. It’s why I keep you around.”
The young woman led us to our cabin—singular, I noted with a twist in my stomach. One bed. Spacious, but still just one.
I had no idea if we would be on the boat overnight. If so, Moreau either expected Colt Mercer to sleep elsewhere or expected me to end up in his bed.
I didn’t like either option.
But sharing that bed with Flynn wasn’t a good idea, either. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him.
As soon as the door closed behind us, Flynn scanned the room for surveillance devices while I cleared the bathroom. The cabin was luxurious. All cream and gold, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the darkening sea.
“Clear,” Flynn said after several minutes.
“Figured as much.” I dropped onto the edge of the bed, kicking off my heels and rubbing my sore feet. I hoped to hell my next cover wasn’t the kind of woman who wore stilettos with her bathing suit. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of combat boots right now. “He’s built his empire on discretion. If it got out he was bugging his clients’ cabins, he’d lose his customer base.”
“Or maybe he’s just smart enough to have devices we can’t detect,” Flynn said, his voice still edged with irritation as he prowled the perimeter of the room. “Don’t underestimate him.”
I watched Flynn’s restless movements, the way his shoulders remained tense beneath his tailored jacket. He was still angry at Moreau, at me, at this entire situation. I needed him to calm down before he did something stupid that got us both killed.
“I’m not underestimating him,” I said, keeping my voice even. “But I need you to get your head on straight. What happened up there can’t happen again.”
“You expect me to stand there while he puts his hands all over you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect.”
Flynn stopped his pacing to look at me, his eyes burning until he saw my wince when I hit a sore spot on the arch of my foot. He crossed the cabin in two strides and sat beside me, pulling my foot into his lap.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Taking care of my asset,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine as his fingers worked magic on my aching foot. “Isn’t that what good security does?”
I should have pulled away. Should have maintained that professional distance I’d been preaching about. Instead, I let my head fall back slightly as his thumb found a particularly sensitive spot and bit back a moan that would have sounded entirely too sexual.
“God, that feels good,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know.”
There was too much heat in those two words, too much memory of the night before. My body responded instantly, a flush creeping up my neck and pooling between my legs as his strong fingers worked their way up my calf, kneading tense muscles with just the right pressure.
“Flynn,” I murmured, his name somewhere between warning and invitation.
“Tell me to stop,” he challenged, his hands pausing against my skin.
I didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, I watched him through half-lidded eyes as his touch slid higher, past my knee to my thigh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
The yacht pitched gently beneath us, the distant sound of music and laughter floating down from the deck above. We were in a bubble, suspended in time, and I was acutely aware of every inch between us—the space narrowing with each breath.
I knew exactly what he was doing. Taking what Moreau wanted. Claiming me like a dog marking his territory.
And, dammit, I didn’t care.
His fingers slipped beneath the edge of my bikini bottoms, and I gasped as he found me already slick with need.
“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice like a rough caress down my spine. “How often did you think about my cock today, princess?”
I couldn’t answer. Could barely think as his fingers circled my still-sensitive clit, sending a tremble through my legs. I fell back on the bed and gave in to the flood of sensation.
“I love seeing you like this, all spread out like a feast for me.”
I studiously ignored his use of the L-word and lifted my hips, grinding against his hand. “Oh, just shut up and finger fuck me before I change my mind.”
“Yes, my princess.” A wolfish grin spread across his face as he pushed the fabric aside and shoved two fingers deep into my pussy. He worked them in and out, fast and hard, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit with each thrust.
“Oh… yes!” My hands fisted in the expensive bedspread, my breath coming in short, desperate pants.
God. This man knew how to use his hands. He knew exactly how to touch me, how to build the pressure until I was trembling on the edge, desperate for the release only he could give me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he said, his free hand sliding beneath my bikini top to roll a nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation—his fingers inside me, his hand on my breast—sent sparks dancing behind my eyelids.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out as the pressure built, coiling tighter with each stroke of his fingers. My thighs began to tremble, my inner walls clenching around him as he drove me higher.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and fierce. “I want to see you when you come.”
My eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the raw hunger I saw there nearly pushed me over the edge. His gaze devoured me, possessive and primal, like nothing else in the world existed but my pleasure.
“That’s it,” he growled, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot inside me. “Give it to me, Lyric.”
The orgasm crashed through me without warning, violent and all-consuming. I arched off the bed, my body convulsing around his fingers as ecstasy pulsed through every nerve ending. I bit down on my fist to muffle my cries, aware even in this moment of bliss that we weren’t alone on this yacht.
Flynn didn’t stop, drawing out my climax until I was shaking, oversensitive, my hand shooting down to still his wrist.
“Enough,” I gasped, collapsing back against the sheets.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, making me shudder with aftershocks, then brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a look of pure satisfaction.
“I’ll never get enough of your taste.”
I reached for his belt, suddenly desperate to feel him inside me, to take him as deep as he could go. “I want?—”
A sharp knock at the door froze us both.
“Ms. Deveraux?” A crisp female voice called through the door. “Mr. Moreau requests your presence on deck in fifteen minutes. We’ll be arriving at our destination shortly.”
The bubble burst, leaving me suddenly, painfully aware of where we were and what we were suppose to be doing. Just like that, I was back on mission, the haze of pleasure evaporating.
I scrambled up from the bed, hastily adjusting my bikini, trying to ignore the way my legs trembled beneath me.
“Tell Monsieur Moreau I’ll be right there,” I called out, my voice impressively steady.
The footsteps retreated down the hallway. I turned to Flynn, who looked like he was ready to finish what we’d started, his eyes still dark with desire, his erection obvious against his tailored pants.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, pointing a finger at him. “We have to focus.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right.”
That easy acquiescence surprised me. I narrowed my eyes, suspicious.
“What? I can be reasonable,” he said, adjusting himself with a grimace. “Sometimes.”
I snorted and moved to the closet where my bag had been placed. “We need to be careful. Moreau’s watching us too closely.” I pulled out a sleek dress the color of blood that hugged every curve—the kind of thing Elisa would wear to an auction of illegal weapons. “He’s looking for weaknesses.”
“And he found one,” Flynn said quietly.
Our eyes met in the mirror as I slipped the cover-up off my shoulders. “Me?”
“No.” His expression was a complicated mix of frustration and hunger. “Me.”
I stared at him. Flynn Shepherd, the lone wolf who never needed anyone, had just identified himself as the weak link in our operation. Because of how he felt about me.
“Flynn—” I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.
“I know what you’re going to say. My feelings are a liability. I’m compromising the mission.” He crossed to the window, staring out at the darkening sea. “But the problem is I don’t give a damn about the mission when he puts his hands on you.”
“We can’t afford that mindset. Not now. Not with Sentinel in play.”
“I know,” he said, his voice rough. “But I’m not sure I can stop it.”
I stepped behind the dressing screen, stripping off my swimsuit and sliding into the dress. The silk fit like liquid, the neckline plunging dangerously low, the double slits all the way to my hips allowing me easy movement.
“You have to,” I said, stepping out from behind the screen. “For both our sakes.”
Flynn turned, and the naked hunger in his eyes as he took in my appearance made my breath catch. “Christ, Lyric.”
“Like what you see?” I couldn’t help the teasing smile that played across my lips, even as I knew I was playing with fire.
“You know I do.” His voice was rough gravel. “Every man on that deck is going to want you.”
“But only one of them is going to get what he wants.” I stepped closer, adjusting his tie that had come loose during our moment of indiscretion. “Moreau. Because he has what we need.”
Flynn’s jaw tightened and he caught my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse point. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t need you to like it. I need you to keep it together tonight. No matter what happens, no matter what I have to do?—”
“What you have to do?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “What exactly are you planning to do, Lyric?”
I met his gaze unflinchingly. “Whatever it takes to secure Sentinel.”
“Including sleeping with him?” The words were barely more than a growl.
“If that’s what it takes to maintain cover and complete the mission, then yes.” I kept my voice steady, though the thought made my skin crawl. “That’s the job, Flynn. Sometimes it’s ugly.”
“No. That is not happening.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
His grip tightened. “The hell I don’t.”
“Stop it.” I yanked my wrist from him and shoved both hands against his hard chest. He didn’t move. “I don’t need your permission. I’ve been doing this long before you crashed into my operation, and I’ll be doing it long after you’re gone.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes and he backed up a step. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. I never thought of myself as a one-woman man. I thought I liked my freedom, but I was wrong. You’re it for me.”
I stared at him in complete shock. Who says something like that after less than a week? It was insane. Impossible.
And yet his words resonated in me like a tuning fork struck at just the right frequency.
“Flynn, you can’t?—”
“I can. I am.” He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “Figures I’ve spent my life running from connections, and now I find the one woman who makes me want to stay, and she’s doing the same damn thing. That’s karma for you.”
I turned away, busying myself with jewelry—sliding diamond studs into my ears, clasping an obscenely expensive necklace around my throat. Fashion for Elisa, armor for me. “We have a mission.”
“And we’ll complete it. But don’t ask me to stand by while you offer yourself to that monster.”
He grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “I can’t do it, Lyric. Not when I know what it’s like to have you. Not when I...” He paused, his jaw working before the next words came out, like he wasn’t sure he should say them. Like it cost him something. “Not when I love you.”
A tremor ran through me, but I forced myself to stay steady. To keep my voice neutral, my face blank. “Then you’re a fool, because I don’t know how to love. And even if I did?” I looked him dead in the eye. “I would never love you.”