Undercover Desires

Collision

Ryland

I f*****g hated airports. The people, the noise, the goddamn parking—everything about them pissed me off. But what pissed me off even more was my mother.

"Ryland, I need you to pick up Travis and his friend from the airport," she'd said in that clipped tone that left no room for argument.

I had a goddamn assistant for this kind of s**t, but Gabriella Johansson wasn’t someone you said no to.

So here I was, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended me, my jaw clenched so hard it could snap steel, driving toward the airport like a man heading to his own execution.

By the time I walked into the terminal, my patience was already worn the f**k down. I scanned the crowd for my brother when I saw her.

Jesus f*****g Christ.

She wasn’t just pretty—she was f*****g hypnotic. Caramel brown hair flowed down her back in a way that made my fingers twitch with the need to wrap it around my fists. Her sharp, chocolate-brown eyes held something dangerous, something that saw through every mask, every secret. And her lips—f**k, I wanted to ruin them, to taste, to bite, to own.

I was drowning in her, in the f*****g pull of whatever the hell she was, when Travis’s arm slung around her shoulder, pulling her in close.

My brain short-circuited.

No. No f*****g way.

Travis leaned down, murmuring something to her, and she laughed—a soft, breathy sound that sent a shot of pure, unfiltered need straight through me.

I wanted to yank her out of his arms, throw her over my shoulder, and claim her so thoroughly she wouldn’t remember a time before me. No s**t, I loved my brother, but f**k if I could share her.

“Ryland!”

Travis spotted me and walked over, dragging her with him. Before I could wrap my head around my murderous f*****g jealousy, he pulled me into a tight hug, slapping my back like he hadn’t seen me in years.

“Missed your ugly ass,” he joked, grinning wide.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, my eyes already shifting back to the woman.

She smiled—small, polite. Then she extended her hand.

“I’m Krystal. You can call me Krys.”

That voice. Low, smooth, sinful.

I gripped her hand, maybe a little tighter than necessary. “Ryland.”

Our hands lingered.

“Alright, you two done eye-f*****g?” Travis cut in, completely oblivious to the fact that I was seconds away from throwing him into oncoming traffic. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

I clenched my jaw and led them to the car, my mind a f*****g whirlwind.

The ride started with Travis and me catching up, mostly him bullshitting about his time away, the places he’d been, the deals he’d closed. Krys, though, was quiet. Too quiet.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, checking up on her, only to find her curled up in the backseat, fast asleep.

“She’s a picky sleeper,” Travis said, noticing my stare. “Couldn’t catch any sleep on the plane.”

I hummed, but my curiosity was f*****g relentless.

“How do you know her?” I asked, keeping my voice casual even though my grip on the wheel tightened.

Travis smirked. “Why? You interested?”

I shot him a look that could kill. “Answer the damn question.”

He chuckled. “Met her almost a decade ago. She’s like a little sister to me.”

Relief hit me so f*****g hard I nearly laughed.

Little sister. Not a girlfriend. Not someone off-limits.

My eyes flickered back to her, soft breaths leaving her lips as she slept.

Oh, she was f****d.

She just didn’t know it yet.