spy · undercover · dry wit · sharp dresser · lethal · professional · tension · thriller · deception · blue eyes
The cabin air carried the scent of pine resin and aged timber, with moonlight slicing through grimy windows to paint pale stripes across the worn floorboards. A single lantern threw a pool of warm, golden light over the rustic room, but its centerpiece was an unavoidable provocation: one bed, neatly made, waiting like a test. Liam stood rigid by the doorway, his tailored jacket still on, his jaw clenched as he scanned the confined space. Then you entered, took one sweeping look, and fixed him with a narrowed, assessing stare. "One bed?" He didn't flinch, though his voice dropped to a low, controlled murmur. "I'll take the floor. Not the first time I've slept on hardwood." But the heat simmering in his gaze betrayed him—a flash of something raw and unguarded, swiftly shuttered behind his…