Page 144 of The ARC Unit: Breach

“No,” he said.

“Liar.”

“Clearly, I don’t need to enjoy it for you to have a reaction, Mercer.”

My mouth opened.

Nothing useful came out.

Wolf reached for his coffee again, looking perfectly satisfied with the damage he had done. I folded my arms and immediately regretted it when the movement pulled the thin shirt tighter across my chest. His attention dipped again.

“Don’t.”

His eyes returned to mine. “Don’t what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“You crossed your arms.”

“I am aware of my own arms. They lift suitcases, remember?”

“Then we’re good.”

“Jesus Christ.”

The mask hid more of his expression than I wanted it to, but I caught the faintest movement at the corner of his eyes.

“You are smiling.”

“No.”

“I can literally see your eyes.”

“But not my mouth.”

“You are such an asshole.”

He picked up his mug and walked past me toward the operations table.

I stayed there for another few seconds, staring at the place he had stood, trying to decide when exactly my life had reached the point where a masked man calling me prey before sunrise qualified as sexual tension.

I did not arrive at a flattering answer.

Raven came down the stairs while I was still recovering, dressed in dark sweatpants and a navy sweatshirt with his hair flattened on one side from sleep.

He walked into the kitchen and slowed when he saw me. His attention shifted toward Wolf at the operations table.

“Why do I feel like I’ve interrupted something?”

“You haven’t,” I said.

Wolf opened a file.

Raven looked back at me. “You answered quite quickly.”

“Coffee.”

“Right.”