Page 221 of Tell Me Something True

Fucker still had had his boots on from his run to the store for more beer.

Reed hissed in a breath, and she went white and snatched her hands away.

There was another knock and Bella, sitting in front of the door, tail wagging, barked in response.

“Verity?” some guy called through the wood, his voice husky, like he just woke up. Not the cop brother. Must be the one she lived with. “It’s six.”

Verity scrambled backward, kicking at the covers when they tangled around her legs, and hit the wall behind her with a dull thud.

“Verity?” the guy asked again. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she blurted in a tone so squeaky and guilty the guy would have to be an idiot to believe her.

The door handle jiggled.

Not an idiot.

“You sure?” He jiggled the knob again. “Why is your door locked?”

She cleared her throat.

And let loose.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy in her own home? I’m a grown adult and sometimes, grown adults lock their bedroom doors for a multitude of reasons, most of which aren’t criminal, unethical, or nefarious, nor do they require an inquisition.”

The guy’s sigh was loud enough to be heard through the door.

Reed could relate.

She drove him batshit crazy, too, with her rapid-fire speeches about what was right and what was wrong and her fancy-ass worded rationales that ripped a guy’s argument to shreds.

“When you let Bella out, take her on her leash,” the guy said, smart enough to change the subject. “Yesterday she chased the Turner’s cat and was three blocks away before I caught her.”

“That cat purposely antagonizes her!”

“Just put her on her leash.” Then he muttered just loud enough for them to hear, “Inquisition? Jesus Christ.”

The moment his footsteps disappeared down the hall, Verity scooted off the bed. Both dogs ran over to her, vying for her attention and she set a hand on each of their heads.

“You’re going to have to wait until Urban leaves before you go,” she whispered, not looking at him. “He’s usually out the door by six-thirty.”

Reed had to be at the garage by seven. He’d been hoping to stop by the trailer first, shower and throw a few things into a bag so he could get through the next couple of nights sleeping in his truck until his old man cooled down.

No time for that if he was going to be stuck in this room for the next half hour.

Plus, his dog needed to be let out.

But none of those were the reason why Reed needed to get the fuck out of here.

It was Verity, standing before him, mussed from sleep, in nothing but shorts that were too short and sat too low on her rounded hips, and a tank top that was too white and too thin and too tight.

The material of it wrapped around her tits, dipped low in the front, showing too much of them. Her nipples were clearly visible, hard and a dark pink that matched her lips, and the hem kept rolling up, showing several inches of the pale skin of her rounded belly.

Skin he’d touched. Curves that had fit perfectly in his hand.

The memory of how soft she was, how warm, was burned into him, as if it had become a part of him.

And now, so was this image of her.

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