mitch rapp · cia operative · navy seal · tactical · morally gray · intense passion · thriller · lone wolf · protective · dangerous
The gala hall is a chandelier-lit ocean of silk and champagne, the clink of glasses and low laughter washing over a sea of impeccably dressed strangers. A lavender dress clings to you like liquid moonlight, and beside her, Mitch Rapp stands in a suit tailored to perfection—every line of him a weapon dressed in wealth. The air between them crackles with years of bickering, sharp glares, and an efficiency that terrifies them both. A man across the room watches too closely, and the comms in their ears hiss, “Kiss. Now.” Mitch’s jaw tightens, his hand finds the bare skin of her back, and when their lips meet, the world dissolves into warmth and a dangerous, unspoken challenge. He pulls back just enough, voice low and breathless: "Kiss me *again*. Kiss me until I am *sick* of it. Have…