at your head.”
“Oh.”
“Indeed. We both know how that ended.”
“You shot him.”
Adam shifted, and despite the grace of the movement, it was still awkward. “I’m going to call Victor to have our unconscious friend in the other room picked up. If you don’t want to see blood, I suggest you stay here.”
Mira stayed as Adam left.
She still hadn’t digested the information that he’d felt afraid for her, nor was she really sure how to. It wasn’t the kind of thing she could easily swallow. What if he was lying?
There was no way to know, and if things went well, she’d never have the chance to test the truth of his statement. No way was she letting someone put a gun to her head just to see if the man was lying, because truth or not, a gun to her head meant she was screwed.
* * *
Sophie floated around Riley’s apartment like a ghost. She didn’t make a sound or touch anything, but her fingers coasted just above his possessions, as if she could somehow pull from them a sense of the man who owned them.
There wasn’t much here. A few photos of family and friends, a single shelf of books, a few roughly painted pictures made by children she assumed were the little ones in the family photos, and a small collection of music and movies. His towels were new but mismatched. His closet was filled with more tactical gear than office attire. There were weapons stashed in every room—several easy to spot and access. Probably more hidden. Her appearance here hadn’t encouraged him to hide any of them away.
He trusted her not to shoot him in his sleep, which made him either really brave or really stupid. Even she wasn’t sure which.
Sophie went to where he lay sleeping on the couch.His arm was curled under his pillow, which made his biceps flex, even in his sleep. His head was shaved, with only a hint of growth showing beneath his skin. The sheet he’d tossed over his bare chest had worked its way down to his waist—just low enough for her to see that he’d undone the top button of his jeans for comfort.
Shadowed, intriguing masculine flesh covered him in a tempting display. She traced his muscular contours with her eyes, enjoying the view as she went.
There had been a time in her life when she would have simply climbed on board and took what she wanted. But that time was over now. She was a responsible adult, forcing herself to stay on a road that would lead her nowhere near the same neighborhood as where her useless father had subsisted.
Sophie was going to make something of herself. She wasn’t entirely sure what yet, but—despite what she’d told Riley about never wanting to love again—the secret truth was that she wanted the whole package. A respectable job, a kind husband, and a couple of kids she would love as much as she had the baby she’d lost.
The whole white-picket-fence-in-the-suburbs thing might have been a nauseating cliché to some, but it was one she desperately wanted to live.
She placed one hand over Riley’s heart, hovering but not touching, just as she’d done with the rest of his possessions. With less than an inch between them, she could feel his body’s heat as she followed the even rise and fall of his chest.
The urge to close the distance between them was strong, but she reminded herself that touching strange men was not part of her journey now. Her straight-and-narrow path was laid out in front of her, gleaming and bright. Nothing would get in her way—not her father’s past mistakes, and certainly not one perfectly built man.
She was just about to move her hand away when he grabbed her wrist. His eyes opened. They were a dark,rich brown the color of damp, fertile earth. There was no grogginess lurking there, only acute alertness.
She didn’t try to tug her hand away or hide that she’d been almost touching him. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and fighting him would only make him think she had.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Thinking about
“Oh.”
“Indeed. We both know how that ended.”
“You shot him.”
Adam shifted, and despite the grace of the movement, it was still awkward. “I’m going to call Victor to have our unconscious friend in the other room picked up. If you don’t want to see blood, I suggest you stay here.”
Mira stayed as Adam left.
She still hadn’t digested the information that he’d felt afraid for her, nor was she really sure how to. It wasn’t the kind of thing she could easily swallow. What if he was lying?
There was no way to know, and if things went well, she’d never have the chance to test the truth of his statement. No way was she letting someone put a gun to her head just to see if the man was lying, because truth or not, a gun to her head meant she was screwed.
* * *
Sophie floated around Riley’s apartment like a ghost. She didn’t make a sound or touch anything, but her fingers coasted just above his possessions, as if she could somehow pull from them a sense of the man who owned them.
There wasn’t much here. A few photos of family and friends, a single shelf of books, a few roughly painted pictures made by children she assumed were the little ones in the family photos, and a small collection of music and movies. His towels were new but mismatched. His closet was filled with more tactical gear than office attire. There were weapons stashed in every room—several easy to spot and access. Probably more hidden. Her appearance here hadn’t encouraged him to hide any of them away.
He trusted her not to shoot him in his sleep, which made him either really brave or really stupid. Even she wasn’t sure which.
Sophie went to where he lay sleeping on the couch.His arm was curled under his pillow, which made his biceps flex, even in his sleep. His head was shaved, with only a hint of growth showing beneath his skin. The sheet he’d tossed over his bare chest had worked its way down to his waist—just low enough for her to see that he’d undone the top button of his jeans for comfort.
Shadowed, intriguing masculine flesh covered him in a tempting display. She traced his muscular contours with her eyes, enjoying the view as she went.
There had been a time in her life when she would have simply climbed on board and took what she wanted. But that time was over now. She was a responsible adult, forcing herself to stay on a road that would lead her nowhere near the same neighborhood as where her useless father had subsisted.
Sophie was going to make something of herself. She wasn’t entirely sure what yet, but—despite what she’d told Riley about never wanting to love again—the secret truth was that she wanted the whole package. A respectable job, a kind husband, and a couple of kids she would love as much as she had the baby she’d lost.
The whole white-picket-fence-in-the-suburbs thing might have been a nauseating cliché to some, but it was one she desperately wanted to live.
She placed one hand over Riley’s heart, hovering but not touching, just as she’d done with the rest of his possessions. With less than an inch between them, she could feel his body’s heat as she followed the even rise and fall of his chest.
The urge to close the distance between them was strong, but she reminded herself that touching strange men was not part of her journey now. Her straight-and-narrow path was laid out in front of her, gleaming and bright. Nothing would get in her way—not her father’s past mistakes, and certainly not one perfectly built man.
She was just about to move her hand away when he grabbed her wrist. His eyes opened. They were a dark,rich brown the color of damp, fertile earth. There was no grogginess lurking there, only acute alertness.
She didn’t try to tug her hand away or hide that she’d been almost touching him. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and fighting him would only make him think she had.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Thinking about
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