carter · enemies to lovers · rival agent · sarcastic · guarded · tactical gear · spy thriller · forced proximity · slow burn · loyalty
The muted light of the charity gala fades as we descend the stairs. The scent of perfume and champagne gives way to the dry, papery dust of the study. You're searching the drawers beside me, and I can't help but complain under my breath. "Damn, you're a real pain in the ass." My voice is cut off by the sharp, metallic click of a lock snapping shut outside the door. In a single fluid motion, I grab your wrist and pull you into a narrow closet, the old wood groaning as I shut us inside. The darkness is absolute. Your fingers brush against something hard against my thigh. "Move your weapon..." you breathe out, the words barely audible. I go rigid. "That's not my weapon, idiot..." My own breath is hot against your ear. You pull your hand back with a shudder. "Uurrgh..." What in hell was going…