Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I know what they're saying makes sense. I know that it came from Kincaid. I could easily just agree with them and do whatever I want once back inside her apartment, but for some reason, I'm standing in the parking lot arguing like they control my actions.
"It'll keep her safer," Grinch says, a softness in his tone as if he's more than aware of what I'm struggling with.
It's not that I don't have faith in my teammates.
I know they're more than capable of doing any job they're tasked with, and as far as this situation is concerned, they've faced things much more deadly and dangerous than an ex-husband with his sights set on revenge.
There's just a part of me that feels like no one can keep her as safe as I can. I feel like it's my personal duty to be the one to slay her monster.
"I'll try," I concede.
Grinch chuckles as if he knows better.
"Grab the bag from the back," Harley says, hitching his thumb toward the second-row seating. "She might not throw you out if you get a shower."
"You packed my things?" I ask, not knowing how to feel about someone going into my private space.
It's not like I have anything to hide, but it still hits me a little sideways.
"Em packed your things," Harley says.
"Even worse," I mutter as I open the back door and grab the bag. "But I appreciate it."
"We have two on the front and two on the back," Grinch says. "You're good."
I nod and walk away, taking up my position right outside of her front door, waiting until she's done inside and feels comfortable enough to let me back in.
The wait isn't too long, but there's something about the way she looks when she opens the door that freezes me in place.
I haven't known her long, but she hasn't ever worn much makeup that I could tell. She's gorgeous, her skin flawless, hair pretty and so soft I've fought the urge to run my fingers through it more than once.
Right now is no different, only it's the drop of water in the hollow of her throat that makes my mouth water.
She didn't regret kissing me.
As much as I wanted to tell her I didn't regret it either, I couldn't. There's an expectation when two people agree they enjoyed something, and I don't want her to feel any pressure to make it happen again.
"You okay?" she asks when I don't move a muscle.
How can I be, when that tiny drop of water makes my mouth run dry as if I haven't had a drink of water in a month, and licking it from her skin would be the only thing that would quench my thirst?
"Nyx?" she says, drawing my eyes up to hers.
"Sorry," I mutter, doing my best to get my shit together but finding it more than a little difficult.
"You have a bag?"
I look down at the duffel at my feet.
"The guys brought it," I explain. "Said you'd kick me out if I don't shower."
She chuckles, the sound having no less of an effect on me than it did the other times I heard it.
"I wouldn't kick you out," she says as she steps to the side to let me in.
I reach for the strap on the duffel and only make it a few feet back into the apartment before pausing for her to lock the door behind her.
"The shower's all yours," she says with a gentle smile.
"You're sure it's okay?"
She stares at me, eyes blinking slowly.
"Am I okay if you shower? Of course, I'm okay with it. Take your time," she says.
She hesitates to walk past me, making me wonder what her concern is.
"Cerberus has two guys out front and two guys out back," I explain.
"Sounds like you should probably get some sleep tonight, then," she says.
"Did they call you and tell you to say that?"
Her smile grows wide. "Did you just crack a joke?"
I shake my head. "No joke."
Instead of dropping the smile, she tosses her head back and laughs. The droplet of water has disappeared, but the urge to press my lips to her skin hasn't.
When she's done laughing, we spend a few seconds watching each other, and the same tension that built the other night starts to bubble right back up like a simmering pot that was only pulled from the fire for a few seconds.
She clears her throat, the first one to try to ease the growth of whatever is happening between the two of us.
"We have to get up earlier than normal in the morning," she says. "Victoria is going to be at the park for the fundraiser setup at seven."
I frown, wishing I could argue about her going in the first place, but I know I can't.
"I'll be ready," I say instead.
"Have a good night," she says before walking away.