Page 30 of Protecting the Nerd

I shook my head. “They never moved beyond hookups or a few first awkward dates. I’ve never held hands with anyone in public.”

“Oh.”

“So we should practice more.”

“That would be smart, yes.”

“And maybe kiss.”

This time, Quillon stopped so suddenly that he jerked my hand back. “What?”

“We should kiss.”

“Yeah, I heard that, but why?”

I shrugged. “It’s hard to display intimacy that isn’t there. People’s body language changes after having sex, a subconscious mannerism that’s hard to fake, especially for someone like me who’s not good at pretending. So I think it would help if we kissed.”

Quillon stared at me as if I’d sprouted horns or grown a tail. “You want to kiss me.”

“Not want to, but I think we need to. We can’t display the necessary familiarity unless we become more intimate.” I sighed. “I know I’m not your type, so just think of it as doing your job, okay?”

Quillon blinked. “My job. You want me to think of kissing you as my job.”

“Isn’t it? Convincing people we’re in a relationship is crucial to my safety, which is your job, so I think a good case could be made for doing this in the line of duty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Quillon stared at me for a moment longer, then stepped closer and curled his hand around my neck. My little gasp of surprise was swallowed as he covered my mouth and kissed me. His lips were firm, dominant, so different from the lips of the women I’d kissed, and I yielded to him without thinking about it. The kiss was superficial, without tongue, yet heat pooled in my belly. When he let go of me—way too soon—I stood reeling.

“There,” he said hoarsely. “Now I’ve done my duty.”

10

QUILLON

The house was dead quiet, the absolute silence only disturbed by York’s occasional muttering. I’d long since given up on making any sense of it. He sat hunched over his laptop, the glow of the screen illuminating his features etched with concentration. His fingers danced across the keyboard with a mathematician’s precision, lost in the algorithms and equations or whatever it was. Advanced calculus, my ass.

We’d found a rhythm in the week since we’d arrived in Forestville. York was a late riser who liked to sleep in and take his time in the mornings. He usually didn’t start work until eleven, but then he continued straight to dinner. I’d found out he ate breakfast late and skipped lunch, so I’d started making hearty, healthy breakfasts, like omelets stuffed with vegetables or fruit bowls with whole grains and Greek yogurt. He always cleared his plate and never forgot to thank me.

While he worked, I caught up on emails, stayed in touch with my boss and the FBI, and worked out in the gym room, which was outfitted with first-class equipment. Tomás had set up a treadmill and a crosstrainer as well as a complicated resistance training machine, which could deliver a full-body workout. I was in heaven.

York would take a break for dinner—which I would prepare while he watched me—then work for a few more hours before relaxing with his headphones on, listening to classical music while he stared into the distance. He often fell asleep in his chair, so I made sure to have blankets nearby. Whenever he napped in his chair, I slept on the couch. As soon as he retreated to his bedroom, I rolled out my sleeping mat and bag and installed myself in front of his door. Having a guest room was nice and all, but I was too far away from York, so that wasn’t an option. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight for more than an hour.

Ideally, I would’ve had a team so others could relieve me, but our decision to relocate to Forestville had made that impossible. It would mean more strangers and, thus, more risk. So it was just all me, all the time. The two FBI agents kept watch outside, patrolling the town and checking in with the sheriff for updates. He’d assigned one of his deputies to their team, lending them credence and providing them with a local who knew everyone and would notice out-of-towners.

I left York in the office and went to the kitchen, where he wouldn’t overhear me. Not that he was that easily distracted once he was in the zone. Once he had flow. I smiled. I learned new things every day with York.

Like that he believed kissing him was a chore, something I had to be convinced to do by appealing to my sense of duty. The man had no idea that if it were up to me, I’d kiss him all the time. Not because I had to but because I wanted to. I’d never fallen so hard and so fast for anyone. Of course I had to pick a guy who was both a client and straight.

Not that I had told him any of that. Hell, I’d kept the kiss chaste and brief, fearing that once I got a true taste of him, I wouldn’t be able to stop. One day, when he was no longer my client, I’d have to find a way to tell him the truth, but today was not that day.

I pressed a button on my phone and called Coulson.

“Quillon,” he said. “Thanks for checking in. Any updates on your end?”

I’d never met a federal agent who was so kind and polite. “My pleasure. Everything’s quiet here, but you heard about what happened at York’s apartment, right?”

“Yeah. Your boss already sent over the footage, and we have techs working on it. Facial recognition hasn’t given us a hit so far.”

The day before, the camera outside York’s apartment had caught two guys attempting to break in. That had raised red flags, but far more worrying was that they’d been pros, experienced in bypassing locks and security systems. If not for York’s custom system, they might’ve gotten in, but they hadn’t been able to figure out his unusual design.

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