Page 10 of Crusher

Standing before me, he’s the picture of confidence. Until I notice the small twitch of his brow. He’s worried that I’ll actually leave him out here and turn him away. I have half a mind to do just that. But some small part of me won’t allow it. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met and I can’t help being drawn to him, no matter how hard I resist.

I fold my arms over my chest, popping a hip to the side. “You know, this is borderline stalking.”

“Not stalking. I’d say more like… determination.” He smiles, revealing a row of perfect white teeth before holding up the bag of food again.

God, whatever he’s got in there smells amazing…

“Come on, Trouble,” he urges, taking a step closer until I feel the heat radiating off him. Then he leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Let me in, baby. I promise you won’t regret it.”

A shiver runs down my spine, but I know this is a mistake. Tell that to my pussy, though, because that bitch ain’t listening. I force out a dramatic sigh, then step to the side and motion for him to come in. He does so without hesitation, toeing off his boots and neatly sliding them next to the door before entering my living room.

I’m not one to worry about making sure my house is presentable, because every chance I get, I’m cleaning. Since I spend most of my time at the hospital cleaning up after the patients, I find it calming and it settles my brain.

The room is cozy with an oversized blue couch, decorative pillows, and a fluffy blanket. Scented candles flicker on my side tables while Crazy, Stupid, Love plays silently on the muted TV screen.

Crusher places the food on the coffee table before walking to the fireplace mantel that holds old family photos, picking up one of me and Kyle from five years ago. “Cute picture.” He smiles at the frame, observing the image.

Feels strange to have someone touch my things, but I allow it. “Thanks.”

He must sense my discomfort, because he sets the photo down and moves to the couch, stretching out his long legs and draping an arm over the back. “Nice place you got here.”

“Why don’t you just make yourself at home?” The snark slips right out of my mouth before I can stop it.

On one hand, I’m mad he’s learned my address. On the other, it was nice of him to bring dinner. And at least he wants to see me. Can’t say the same for others. Probably has something to do with my sunny demeanor and cheerful disposition.

“Come on, Sadie. Talk to me.” Crusher sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What do you want me to say?” I step farther into the room, propping my ass on the arm of the loveseat.

“Did you use the gift card I left you?” He grins devilishly.

I actually did get Starbucks today and I highly enjoyed spending his money. But there’s no need to further inflate his ego. So I give him a one-word response. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

He abruptly stands and stalks toward me, making my body tense with anticipation. I refuse to budge from my perch, even when he’s standing directly over me while I hold his stare. Then he steals the breath from my lungs when he leans down, planting his fists on each side of my hips and caging me between his tanned, muscular arms. Now, I’m suddenly conscious that I’m only wearing thin pajamas.

“Trouble…” he tsks, and my hands fidget with the hem of my top.

“I really hate when you call me that.” It’s an honest admission, but there’s no fire behind my words.

“Why’s that? Because it turns you on?”

“No, because I hate pet names.”

Crusher lightly strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, heat rising to the surface of my skin. “Honey. Darling. Sweetheart.” His mouth curls with disgust. “Those names couldn’t possibly do you justice. Now, Trouble, that just rolls right off the tongue. Fits you perfectly.”

Without intending to, my gaze falls to his soft lips. The last time I kissed this man was months ago, but I’ve craved doing it ever since.

Why does he have to be so insanely gorgeous?

With his roguish good looks, thick chestnut-brown hair, and a neatly trimmed beard that I want to run my fingers through… I still remember how those prickly hairs felt between my thighs…

Ugh, being this close to him is making my thoughts ridiculous and irrational. So I press a hand to his chest, trying to create some space, but he doesn’t move.

“What drink did you order?” He quirks a curious brow.