Undercover Hate

Chapter Twenty-Three: Knees Weak, Heart Racing (Almost)

The adrenaline still courses through my veins as we get away from the danger. The roar of the motorcycle engine drowns out my fear, but I can't shake the unease settling in my stomach. I press my cheek against the back of Ace's leather jacket, feeling the vibrations of the bike beneath us, and it's comforting in a way. It's just us, flying through the city, away from whatever chaos we'd narrowly escaped.

But then the guilt creeps in. I had been rude, and despite everything, Ace is still here, saving my butt. "I'm sorry for freaking out back there," I shout, trying to break the silence that hangs between us.

He glances back at me, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. "You can freak out anytime you want, as long as you promise to keep holding on to me."

I roll my eyes, but there's a smile tugging at my lips. "You're ridiculous."

We arrive at the hotel, and Ace helps me off the motorcycle, but there's no time to relax. It might be my paranoia but I could swear I saw a motorcycle parked, with the same enemy agents standing next to it. We rush inside, our shoes echoing against the tiled floor as we sprint toward the stairs. "Elevator's too slow!" he calls over his shoulder, and I can't help but agree.

We race up the stairs, breathless and laughing despite the earlier scare. As we reach the top floor, I glance at Ace, our faces flushed from exertion. My heart is still racing, and I can't slow down my breathing. I never realized how hard it is to run in heels until I actually did it. Not like a speed walk, but a full on run.

I'm bent over, trying to catch my breath with my back pressed against the cool wall, my hands resting on my knees. I feel like a hot mess, and the slight chill of the wall doesn't help. The adrenaline is still pulsing through my veins, but there's something else swirling in the air—something that makes my heart race for reasons other than just the close call we just had.

Ace steps closer, and I can feel his warmth seeping into my space. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly close? I'm trying to focus on regaining my composure, but then I notice his gaze drifting down my body, and my stomach drops. Oh no. That's when the realization hits me like a slap in the face—I'm in this ridiculously tight, skin-hugging dress, and in my panic, I didn't even think about how it would ride up when I was sprinting like a madwoman.

Before I can process what's happening, he's right there, invading my personal bubble. With a casual flick of his wrist, he pulls the hem of my dress down, and the way his fingers brush against my skin sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. The gesture is both sweet and mortifying, and I feel the heat rush to my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, no worries," he interrupts, his voice dripping with that cocky charm that's practically his brand at this point. "It's not every day I get a show like that. I think I saw half your ass back there."

My eyes go wide, disbelief washing over me. "What?! You are such a jerk!" I can feel my cheeks burning hotter. I try to glare at him, but the twitch at the corners of my mouth gives me away. I can't suppress the smile that threatens to break through.

"Relax, it's a compliment!" he smirks, clearly enjoying my flustered state. "I mean, who doesn't appreciate a good view?"

"Seriously? You're insufferable!" I shoot back, though I can't help but laugh a little.

"Yeah, but you love it," he replies, winking at me with that infuriatingly charming smile.

I'm about to retort, maybe throw a witty comeback about how much I'd rather be fighting off enemy agents than having this weirdly flirtatious moment, but then I notice the way he's looking at me, and all those thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.