Page 27 of Vicious Sabotage

“Fine,” she bit off. “Emory is between places to stay right now.”

He straightened. “She’s homeless?”

“I guess you could call it that. Sometimes I let her sleep on the couch in my office. But since the break-in, I didn’t feel comfortable with that. So I gave her my tip money for a motel.”

Jesus. This woman would go to great lengths to help anyone. Anyone but herself.

As soon as he could talk to Colton and Hunter, he’d see what they could do about getting the server a safe place of her own. He had no issue with withdrawing money from his savings, and if the guys couldn’t pitch in, then he could still swing it until Emory got on her feet.

“For the record, mean women don’t go around giving their employees money for places to stay.”

Livia issued a small noise that sounded like a huff and circled past him. A minute later, she returned carrying her purse.

During the car ride to her place, she was super quiet.

Had he pushed her too far? Sure, she kissed him first, but he’d taken it two steps farther. He also pushed her to recognize her own strengths and weaknesses—something he suspected she wasn’t comfortable with. Though she was a smart, savvy businesswoman, Livia hid behind her walls.

He’d guess that few people—if any—knew the true Livia. She’d spent her entire life being strong, taking care of others.

When they reached her house, he anticipated that she wouldn’t wait for him to scope out her house, so he walked to her door and reached out a hand for her.

To his deep pleasure, she slipped it into his.

Inside, she remained silent while he searched every corner of the house where somebody could hide. Last time, he never saw the cat. Now he was on the lookout for the white ball of fluff that so irritatingly shared her fur with him.

When he woke up on the couch with a cat on his chest, he hadn’t been in the best of moods. Add in all that fur clinging to his chest, neck and arms and he was ready to send Livia’s pet on a nice little trip to the closest alley. Only the certainty of Livia’s displeasure kept him from opening the door and shooing Angel out into the night.

Livia’s routine was the same as before. She kicked off her boots and went straight to the shower.

That left Carver pacing the cramped living room with a bad case of blue balls.

After the water switched off, he waited for her to emerge from her room, but the door remained shut. He fixed his makeshift bed on the couch, shucked off his boots and shirt and stretched out the best he could on the short sofa.

He lay there with his arms propped beneath his head, listening to the sounds of the house. An hour ticked by. Still, his body couldn’t let go of those kisses they shared…or the feel of Livia’s curves under his hands.

Then he caught another noise. The click of Livia’s bedroom door opening.

Soft footsteps moving to the kitchen brought a smile to his face.

So they were going to play this game?

When he trailed into the kitchen after her, she was bent over, looking in the fridge. Wearing the shortest nightie he’d ever seen…

And his handprint on her ass.

Chapter Six

Livia felt Wolfe’s stare on her long before she turned around.

Part of her wanted him to see what he’d done to her.

Part of her wanted him to see what he did to her.

When she spotted the red mark from that smack on her ass in the mirror, her blood heated. At first, she thought it was anger. Then the tingle taking up residence between her legs told her just how turned on she was by what he’d done.

She didn’t explore much in the bedroom. She took lovers the way she took shots of Badlands rum—knocked them back and enjoyed the short-lived burn. Then she moved on.

As she slowly straightened and pivoted to face Wolfe, she silently dared him to comment on her choice of sleepwear. A cami and shorts girl? He knew nothing about her.

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