Текст книги "Three Broken Promises"
Автор книги: Monica Murphy
Соавторы: Monica Murphy
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter 15
Colin
I’d come up with the perfect plan and I came home in the middle of the day to tell Jen, hoping like hell that she’d be receptive. Why wouldn’t she be? Last night we had the most amazing quickie non-fuck of my life in my office with a packed restaurant on the other side of the door. The way she was the one who sought me out, hot for me, coming all over my fingers, then giving me a most enthusiastic blow job, will be one of my favorite memories ever.
Finding her almost naked in my backyard earlier today felt like an all-time fantasy come to life. Sex outside by the pool, sex in the shower . . . yeah. Everything between us is fucking amazing.
Then the magical moment was ruined by her announcement that she’d found a roommate. And like a dumbass, I said nothing. I offered to rent her a moving truck like some unfeeling asshole. That was my answer. That’s how I treated what was really a delicate situation. I’m a hopeless prick.
She hasn’t spoken to me much since. Not that I can blame her.
Why is she so hell bent on leaving? I know she craves independence. But I offer her stability. Maybe too much stability, but still. She doesn’t have to worry about finding a job or paying rent or buying a car. I provide all of that for her and more.
Maybe that’s the problem, asshole. You completely take care of her, almost like you’re her sugar daddy.
Running a hand through my hair, I let out a grunt of frustration. She’s into me. I’m into her. I’m offering her a better-paying job that’s in another town but still close enough that we could see each other. So what’s the big deal?
Don’t forget her need for freedom.
Freedom. More like she’s running away.
I shove the nagging voice in my head to the back of my brain. I don’t need to focus on that shit tonight. I want to keep Jen in my life for at least a little while longer. A great job at a different location would give her a new opportunity, a chance to grow, to reach toward that freedom she’s always talking about, but still keep her close. Close enough that we could see each other on a regular basis. As in a real relationship.
For once, that thought doesn’t freak me out. I’m eager to tell her. Spend time with her. Lie down in my bed at night and hold her, talk to her. Just be with her.
Does she want to be with me? Does she miss me like she did last night? No surprise visits in my office so far tonight, which is a damn shame. I’d planned on bending her over my desk and fucking her fast and furiously until I had to clamp my hand over her mouth to stifle her cries when I brought her to orgasm.
Jesus, she fucks with my head. She’s dangerous and doesn’t even know it.
Business has been intense tonight. Two unexpected large dinner parties came in, keeping the girls hustling all evening. Thankfully, Jen had taken charge and managed the floor, impressing me yet again. She has so much potential. The things we could do together with my business. How we could take it further . . .
The bar is still in full swing when I finally go looking for her around midnight, ready to get us the hell out of there. I find her in one of the private party rooms, where she and another waitress are cleaning up the mess left behind by the dinner-goers.
“About ready to leave?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral, though it’s difficult when Jen’s standing there, her back to me as she bends over to clear the table. If Mandy hadn’t been in the room, I’d push myself against her. Smooth my hand over her ass. Haul her in close and let her feel exactly what she does to me. Live out that bend-over-the-desk fantasy that has kept me going all night.
Instead I try my best to look casual, my hands shoved deep inside my pockets so I won’t do something stupid like grab her and make an ass of myself in front of Mandy.
“Almost.” Jen flashes me a small smile over her shoulder. The knot that had formed around my heart earlier slowly unfurls, easing all that tension I’ve carried with me the entire night. Looks like she might not be angry with me any longer. “Give us a few minutes and I’ll meet you at the car? Out in the parking lot?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” I leave the room, nodding at Mandy when she gives me a smile. The dining area is dark and quiet but the bar is still in full swing. I wave and call goodbye to the bartender, Steven, then exit the building. I head toward my car, my head bent against the sudden wind that has come up. It holds a hint of fall in it, cold and sharp and making me shiver.
Crazy, considering it’s been hot as hell these last few weeks.
I climb into the car and wait, my gaze locked on the front door of the restaurant as I lean forward and turn on the radio. Long minutes pass and I check my email on my phone, answer a few texts that I didn’t realize had come through. I’ve been so damn busy for weeks. Months. Once the new location is complete, I’m taking a fucking vacation. Disconnecting from the entire world, leaving my phone at home if I can get away with it. I need the break.
I want Jen by my side when I take my break, too. Maybe we could go to Hawaii together. Or the Caribbean. Somewhere hot and tropical where I can watch her lounge on the beach in that tiny bikini she wore earlier, her skin golden from the sun, all that golden skin on display just for me. Just to drive me out of my mind . . .
A shrill yell breaks through my dream vacation thoughts and I sit upright in my seat, reach for the door handle, and scramble out of the car to see what happened. Who needs help.
I run across the parking lot, scanning to the left, then the right, but I see nothing. Panic makes my heart race when I realize it’s been at least fifteen minutes since I left Jen back in the restaurant. No way would cleaning up the private dining room take that long.
I see a woman crumpled on the ground, her dark head bent over as she rocks back and forth. I increase my pace, running at a full sprint toward the woman sitting there, and when she looks up at me, the relief written all over her familiar tear-streaked face, fear grips me so tight my vision blurs.
It’s Jen.
Jen
I stayed a little too long chatting with everyone still working, trying not to look too obvious that I wanted out of there, though I was still a little angry with Colin for what he’d said to me. Offering a moving truck, how freaking generous of him!
So I talked, I gossiped, and we laughed over silly stuff, my gaze constantly going to the clock on the wall above the bar. Fable kept sending me questioning looks and I know others noticed, too. They had to. I felt like everyone was watching me.
I’m afraid they’re all extra suspicious that I’m fooling around with the boss. It’s one thing when they say you’re doing it and you’re really not. I’m scared out of my mind they’ll figure us out, which means I’m probably becoming more obvious.
So stupid. I’m just nervous. I don’t want to be discovered. I don’t want everyone pointing fingers at me saying I’m fucking the boss.
I know people think it, but until recently the rumors were unfounded. Fable’s been great about trying to dispel them in that no-nonsense way of hers. But now it’s the truth. It’ll be hard to face them if they find out I really am doing the boss. I want my coworkers to respect me, not think I’m easy or getting special treatment.
Finally I extract myself from them, after refusing what feels like endless offers to stay and have just one drink. I glance at my phone, surprised to see almost fifteen minutes have passed, and I hope Colin isn’t mad that I kept him waiting.
Knowing I’ve been angry with him all night, he will probably let this one slide.
Stopping at the front door, I frown, staring out the window at the darkened parking lot. He won’t be mad. He’s never mad. Indifferent, yes, but not after what happened last night.
Or just a few hours ago.
I shouldn’t be mad either. He’s just keeping his word, right? An easy no-strings affair is what we’re having. I’m leaving in less than two weeks. He’ll miss me, I know it, just like I’ll miss him. But I need to remember that what we’re experiencing right at this very moment is nothing more than a fling. A fling that will turn into fond memories later on down the line.
Yeah. I really need to remember that. Forget I’m anxious to see him.
Scanning the parking lot, I wonder where the security guard is. A few of the streetlights that illuminate the lot are out, shrouding certain pockets of the space in total darkness. I’ll have to walk across one of those dark spots to get to Colin’s car.
Should I text him and tell him to meet me at the door? He’d do it. I know he would . . .
Nah. He’ll think I’m a total wimp if I do that. I can run across the lot. It’s no biggie. He’s just right there.
The minute I walk outside the wind hits me, chilling me to the bone. I duck my head against it, my shoulders hunched as I dart across the parking lot. Glancing up, I see Colin sitting in his car, his head bent, the glow from his cell phone illuminating his face. I smile, my belly filling with tiny, fluttering butterflies at the realization that this beautiful, sexy man is mine, at least temporarily.
Out of nowhere a bulky figure comes at me, knocking me off my feet. I fall onto the asphalt with a cry, hitting the ground so hard the wind is knocked out of me. I curl into myself for protection, my arm feeling like it’s being tugged right out of its socket.
“Come on! Gimme your purse, bitch!” The guy towers over me. I can’t make out his face since the shadows are cast over it, but he sounds young. Possibly even younger than me.
I hadn’t realized I was gripping my tiny purse so tightly. Loosening my hold, I let him take it, then watch in stunned disbelief as he tucks it under his arm like a football and takes off across the lot, rounding the corner and disappearing from view.
I’m panting, left sitting sprawled on the asphalt. Icy shock washes over me as I glance about the parking lot. My throat is dry, I can’t manage to form a single word, and I swallow hard. Trying to stand, my legs wobble and I stumble, falling down on my knees, wincing at the pain that lances through me when I make contact with the ground. I look down, see that my knees are scratched and bloody, and that’s when I find my voice.
And scream bloody freaking murder.
Within seconds Colin’s there for me first, with a few people from the restaurant surrounding me soon after. Someone, I don’t know who, calls 911. Colin has his arm around my shoulders, his face in mine, his voice a mixture of concern and cold, calm anger.
“What happened, baby?” He leans into me and whispers this in my ear, his hand smoothing over my hair in a comforting gesture. “Who did this to you?”
I press my head against his strong, solid shoulder and close my eyes for a moment, refusing to cry. I won’t let this upset me. That jackass who took my purse—and all of tonight’s tips with it—isn’t worth crying over. I’ve endured worse. Much, much worse. This is no big deal. “I was walking toward your car and this guy ran into me, pushing me onto the ground. He—he stole my purse.” My voice wavers and I sniff hard, willing the tears that threaten to disappear.
“Shit.” Colin sounds furious as he lifts his head and looks around the lot. His jaw is tight, I notice the tic in it he only gets when he’s super mad, and his eyes blaze with angry blue fire. “Anybody see him?”
“None of us were out here except for you.” Steven says this in the most antagonizing tone, one I hope Colin will ignore, but . . .
He doesn’t. Worse, he rises to the bait.
“Are you saying this is my fault, Harper?” Colin’s voice is low, full of quiet fury, and the look on Steven’s face says he definitely notices. And thankfully backs off.
The police show up quickly and question me, but I don’t have much to say. The female officer informs me that there have been a rash of robberies just like this over the last couple of months and I was lucky I didn’t get hurt worse. That a woman who was robbed a few nights ago walking across her apartment parking lot had been hit upside the head with a gun—and was still in the hospital because of her injuries.
That bit of information sends a cold ripple of fear down my spine.
Colin urges me to go to the emergency room so they can at least check me out and make sure I’m okay, but I refuse. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and go to sleep. Forget this ever happened to me.
“You need to call your bank and cancel all your credit cards,” Colin suggests on the drive home. The police had finally let us go, the female officer giving Colin a stern lecture about replacing the burnt-out lights in the parking lot and making sure the security guard he usually has on duty is actually . . . on duty.
Her chastising had pissed Colin off, not that I could blame him. He already feels responsible enough.
He always feels responsible, especially for my well-being. I wonder if he’s sick of it yet.
“I don’t have any credit cards,” I say wearily, earning a surprised glance from Colin.
“A bank card at least?” he asks. “I’m guessing the guy was looking for cash, but you never know what he might try. Credit card fraud is such a huge problem right now.”
“Yeah. I’ll call my bank in the morning to report it and get it replaced.” I close my eyes, my mind replaying over and over again the way the man rammed his big body into mine, sending me sprawling onto the ground. What would I have done if he’d actually used his hands on me, like what happened to that woman a few nights ago? Would I have fought back? Or just lain there and let him hit me?
“You really should call when we get home,” Colin continues. “Or you could borrow my cell phone and make the call right now.”
“I just . . . I can’t worry about that right now, Colin,” I whisper, wishing he would stop talking. The last thing I need right now is a lecture. And I can feel one coming on, along with a massive headache. “Please just let me sit here and be quiet for a little bit.”
“Fine,” he bites out, sounding irritated but I don’t care. He’s not the one who was just robbed. I know he’s worried about me, but I wish he would just . . . lay off for a second.
I know I should be appreciative of him going into his usual protector mode but for whatever reason, I’m beyond irritated, sick of him always running to my rescue, always trying to tell me what to do.
I’m probably being completely irrational, but seeing him yet again trying to take care of me, take over me really, only proves how badly I need to get away from him. Despite the connection we have, the amazing sex . . . it won’t last. He doesn’t stick.
And neither do I.
The rest of the quick drive home is quiet, and I escape into the house from the garage as soon as he cuts the car’s engine. I have no purse, which means the jackass who took it stole a bunch of my makeup, Colin’s house key, my cell, and my wallet. And again, I can’t help but remember how fat it had been with my night’s tips.
I know Colin is right and I should at least call my bank, but I’m too exhausted to even scrub the makeup off my face, let alone make an actual phone call.
I can barely think and act like a normal human being. I’m in full-blown zombie mode as I move through the house, my brain blank, my body taking me where I need to go like I’m on autopilot.
Entering my room, I flick on the lights and stare at my reflection in the mirror that hangs over the dresser. My cheeks are streaked with mascara-stained tears that I don’t even remember crying. My face is swollen, my eyes are bloodshot, and I look terrible.
Great.
Looking down, I see that the hem of my dress is torn and my knees are still bloody and scraped. With a sigh, I head into the bathroom to clean up my wounds, but Colin is already in there, searching through the drawers until he comes up with antibiotic cream and Band-Aids.
I watch him from where I stand in the doorway, both loathing and appreciating his effort to take care of me in every way he can. I should be touched that he would do all of this, as though he’s my big brother or something. My champion, my knight in shining armor coming to rescue me on his mighty steed.
“Let me help you,” he says the moment he notices me standing there watching him. “Come here.”
I walk inside the small bathroom and sit on the toilet seat, my skirt rising up and revealing my bloodied knees. He finds a clean washcloth in a drawer and dampens it with cool water under the faucet, then gently presses it to my left knee.
Wincing, I hiss in a breath, surprised at how much the scrape hurts. Colin dabs at my skin, his brows furrowed as he studies my knee.
“You have bits of rock in this one,” he says as he reaches out with his other hand and carefully flicks them away. “Doesn’t look serious, though.”
“It hurts,” I murmur, hating how pitiful I sound.
“Sorry.” He flashes me a tight, sympathetic smile. “Your knees will look like hell for about a week with the bandages on them, but hey, maybe you could start a new trend.” He’s trying to joke, to lighten the moment as he dabs the antibiotic cream on my knee and then places a Band-Aid on the wound, but it’s not working.
“What sort of trend would that be?” I ask once he starts in on my other knee. “Hold-up Chic?”
He shoots me a look but never lets up on his tending of my other knee. His touch is so gentle, the look on his face equally so, and watching him fills me with both pleasure and sadness. It makes no sense, the confusion swirling in my brain. Why do I resent Colin for wanting to take care of me? I should be appreciative. I should hug him and thank him for being there for me in my time of need.
Instead, I say nothing. Because I always seem to have a time of need. And he always seems to be right there for me. Saving me.
I’m starting to hate it.
This knee isn’t as bad as the other one and he takes quick care of it, bandaging me up and declaring me fixed with the tiniest smile.
I don’t have the heart to tell him I feel more broken than ever.
Chapter 16
Jen
“I’m firing the security company,” Colin announces the moment I shuffle into the kitchen.
Stopping short, I study him through bleary eyes, deciding it’s a crime for a man to wake up first thing in the morning looking so damn good. Wearing nothing but a pair of black-and-gray flannel pajama pants that hang indecently low on his hips, revealing all that smooth muscled skin I’m itching to touch, he’s making coffee and acting super efficient.
“Why are you firing the security company?” I ask as I sit at the small kitchen table, my movements careful. My body aches and my knees still hurt. As I inhale deeply, the scent of rich, fragrant coffee slowly wakes up my murky brain.
He keeps his back to me, his pants falling even lower when he reaches into the cabinet above him and pulls out two coffee mugs. I see a tan line, and immediately think of how I had my hands all over the area south of it just yesterday morning. My cheeks flush hot with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, and my body’s tingling in all the right places.
Needless to say, nothing happened between us last night. I’d gone to sleep in my bed, and he’d gone to sleep in his. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear him yelling something unintelligible, but I didn’t go to him. And the yelling stopped as soon as it started, so I can only hope the dreams weren’t too bad.
I felt like a jerk not going to him, but I have to break myself of this habit. I can’t keep trying to rescue him. Just like he can’t keep trying to rescue me.
God, we’re a pair, aren’t we?
“There was supposed to be a guard on duty until two a.m., but he left early without consulting anyone. This isn’t the first time, either. I want him fired. The company’s at fault, so I’m terminating our contract with them first thing when I head into the office.”
“Maybe he had some sort of emergency,” I offer weakly. My head slowly starts to pound. I’m so not in the mood to fight or discuss what happened last night. It’s too early for this sort of discussion.
I just want to forget.
“Come on. I’ve texted Steven and a few others at the restaurant. They said this guy left early a lot, which pisses me off. And even if what you’re saying is true, I really don’t care. He should have at least let someone know. They’re in breach of contract. Makes it real easy for me to end this relationship. Though now I need to find another security company stat. Preferably tonight.” He finally pours each of us a cup of coffee, preparing them before bringing mine with him as he walks to the table and drops into the chair across from me. He slides the steaming mug toward me with a nod. “Here you go. Just the way you like it.”
He knows how I like my coffee, heavy on the creamer. “Thank you,” I say gratefully, taking the cup between both hands and bringing it to my lips, breathing in the rich, delicious scent before I take a sip.
“So did you sleep all right? How are your knees this morning?” he asks, his voice deep and full of concern.
After he’d cleaned them up, he walked me to my room last night, tucking me into my bed like I’m some sort of child. I’d been half tempted to ask him to crawl into bed with me and spend the night, but I held back. I didn’t want to look too needy.
It’s bad enough, how needy I already am. Breaking bad habits, right? I need to remember that.
“I slept okay.” I’d lain in bed, wide awake for at least an hour, running over again and again in my head what happened to me out in the parking lot. Wondering how I could have prevented it. I’d kept my head down most of the walk, too focused on getting to Colin’s car, thinking of Colin. Of going straight home so I could get him naked. So preoccupied with my wicked thoughts, I never once checked out my surroundings. I’d been easy pickings for that guy; no wonder he came for me.
And I could blame no one but myself for that.
“Are you in any sort of pain?” The soft concern lacing his deep voice almost makes me want to cry, which is so stupid. I’m thinking like such a girl right now I want to smack myself.
“My body aches, yeah. I hit the ground pretty hard when I fell. But my knees are better. They don’t hurt as bad.” It was sort of true. They still sting, but not as much as last night.
The murderous glow in his eyes says it all. If the guy who did this to me were in the same room with us right now, Colin would be tearing him apart, limb by limb.
“I should call the police and see if they caught the little motherfucker,” he mutters, reaching for his cell phone.
“Don’t bother. I’m sure they’ll never find him.” I take another sip, my brain slowly coming awake, along with all of my bitter sarcasm. “I’m low priority in their eyes. I just want to forget last night ever happened.”
“A serial armed robber is not low priority, especially in a college town. Trust me, they’re looking for the asshole. And if they’re not, I’ll call and make sure they are.” He lets his cell phone drop onto the table with a loud clang, making me jump in my seat. He notices, remorse filling his gaze, and I hate seeing it. I don’t want his sympathy. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right.” I feel defensive, as though his eyes can see right through me. See all my faults and resentment and irritation over this entire mess. I didn’t ask for this to happen. Getting robbed and playing the helpless female is so not a role I’m comfortable with. I’d had a nightmare about it. How he knocked me to the ground, yanking my purse out of my grip, calling me a bitch.
This guy didn’t just steal my purse and everything in it. I’m afraid he’s stolen my strength and courage, too.
“I know you’re trying to deal with this in your own way and it’s hard. But you’ve been acting almost like you’re . . . mad at me.” His mouth sets into a hard line, though his eyes are full of worry. “Are you? Mad at me?”
No way can I be honest. He’ll think I’m crazy if I tell him I’m totally mad, though I wouldn’t describe it so much as that. Of course, I feel like I’m crazy, because I have no valid reason to be angry with him. What did he do that was so wrong? Help me out? Clean my wounds? Put me to bed and reassure me everything’s going to be all right?
Yeah. I’m being ridiculous. I can’t help it.
“What happened to me last night just proves once and for all I need to get out of here. I hate this place.” I drain my coffee cup, feeling his intense gaze on me. Uh-oh.
“Gimme a break. Like it couldn’t happen to you somewhere else? Sacramento has a higher crime rate than here,” he points out.
“Yeah, and it’s a much bigger city, too. We live in Podunk-ville.” I shrug, getting up and going to the coffeemaker so I can pour myself another cup. I keep my back to him, not wanting to have this conversation any longer. Afraid of what I might say if he pushes too much more.
“Does this have anything to do with me? Are you upset with me for some reason? Because you’re acting like it.” He pushes his chair out and I hear him approach, feel his body heat when he draws near. “Are you blaming me for what happened?”
I whirl around, startled when I find him standing much closer than I’d originally thought. Being faced with acres of naked masculine flesh leaves my mouth dry and I eat him up greedily with my gaze, marveling at all of that gorgeous muscly goodness. Jerking my eyes away from his chest, I look at him, finding him watching me with a look on his face that indicates he can read my every thought.
How freaking embarrassing! I’m supposed to be angry and indifferent, right?
I am so not indifferent. And he knows it.
“Of course I don’t blame you,” I say. “I’m the idiot who wasn’t watching where she was going.”
“I should’ve picked you up at the door,” he throws back at me.
“I should’ve texted asking you to pick me up at the door,” I throw right back.
Briefly closing his eyes, he breathes deep, as if he needs to search for the right words to say. “I’m the one who should’ve watched out for you. I’m your employer. Your friend. Your . . .” His voice trails off.
Stepping toward him, I place my fingers over his mouth, silencing him. Not that he was necessarily going to say anything else. He looks like he’s at as much of a loss for words as I am. “Stop talking. We’re nothing beyond the word friend, right?”
He nods, his eyes shooting daggers at me. But he doesn’t say a word.
“Friends are there for each other. And you were there for me last night.” I trace his lips with my index finger, the plump lower lip, the finely curved upper one. He has such a beautiful mouth. One I thoroughly enjoy watching when he talks, when he smiles, when he kisses me. I’m tempted to kiss him right now. Just so I can forget for at least a little while that I’m leaving and that I was robbed and that he feels this stupid obligation to me.
I’m not his burden. And that’s what it’s like—I’m an obligation to take care of in place of my brother watching over me. At least, that’s how it started out. He became my hero. Rescuing me when I thought I didn’t want to be rescued. Saving me from a life of crime, though he didn’t realize that part.
Our relationship has certainly gone beyond the brotherly-sisterly type . . .
“Jen.” His voice is deep and rumbling. I feel it reverberate through me all the way down to my bones. He touches me, places his hand on my hip, and pulls me closer to him, our chests brushing. Just like that, my skin is on fire, my braless nipples hardening against my tank top. I want him. Inside me, kissing me, pushing me toward that oblivious, blank space where I can forget everything at least for a little while.
I rest my other hand on his chest, right at the center, and I can feel his heartbeat. It’s a rapid, rhythmic pace. Reassuring and strong. Unable to resist, I lean in and brush my lips upon his flesh, right above my fingertips, and he closes his eyes, his expression agonized.
“I want you,” he whispers. “But you’re hurting from that asshole pushing you. And I can’t push myself on you. Not right now.”
“You won’t hurt me. I’ll be fine.” I kiss him again, my lips lingering on his warm, hard skin. I settle my hands on his hips, slip my fingers just beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, and touch him, my hands meeting nothing but bare, hot skin. I feel the thrust of his erection through the fabric of his pj’s, pushing against my belly, and I know he wants me.
Probably even more than I want him.
“I don’t want you to go to work today,” he says, abruptly changing the subject.
I can’t believe he’s talking about work at a time like this. “I already told you, I’m fine. Really.” Standing on tiptoe, I kiss his neck, licking him, tasting him, savoring the sound of his moan. I want to distract him, distract both of us. Talking tends to lead us into trouble, especially lately.
Having sex leads us straight into pleasure. And that’s what I want right now. Mindless, delicious pleasure with Colin.
“No.” He pulls away from me, his expression and body language downright tortured. “I’m not going to do this. Not when you’re still recovering from what happened to you last night.”
Frustration rips through me, making me angry. “I’m not some delicate doll who needs to be handled with care, Colin. I fell and scraped my knees last night. Big deal.”
“You were fucking attacked, Jen. You suffered a tremendous shock. I think you might still be in shock. There’s no other explanation for why you’re acting so odd.”
Jackass! I am so done with him diagnosing me all the time. “So you’re not going to have sex with me because of what happened last night.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“So are you,” he throws back.
We stare at each other, all sorts of tension swirling between us. I both want to jump him and smack him.
Jump him . . .
Or smack him?
Colin
I want to both jump her and smack her, which is the craziest thing ever because I have never had violent thoughts toward a woman before in my life. And hell, she was just mugged, for the love of God. The very thing I should be thinking is how much I want to shake some sense into her.
Those few weak moments when she was touching my mouth, touching my chest, kissing my neck, I was more than ready to cave. Just give in to that uncontrollable urge I feel whenever she’s with me. Where I’m desperate to tear her clothes off and make her mine. Brand her, mark her, demand that she say my name when I make her come. Then she’ll know who she belongs to.
