Page 31 of Vicious Sabotage

Hell. He never lost it that way. Had he given her enough satisfaction?

A quick study of her face told him that he had done his job—and done it well.

In the dim light of the moon streaming through the open curtains, he could see she wore a flush across her high cheeks. In the light of day, he knew her pale skin was dotted with faint freckles.

A smile stretched across her beautiful face, and the strain around her eyes had smoothed.

He brushed his lips over hers, drinking in the scent of her bodywash and shampoo.

“You’re—”

She nailed him with a stinging slap on the chest. “Don’t even say cute!”

“Stunning,” he finished.

She snapped her lips shut. “Oh.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They fell into a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. Her breaths came more and more slowly. He knew the moment she drifted to sleep. Her arm thrown over his chest grew limp and boneless.

Carver waited for long minutes until he was certain she was in a deep sleep before he slipped out of bed. He scooped up his dropped clothes and paused to stare at the beautiful bar owner.

What had been a kernel of affection for her had quickly swelled into a ball of want sitting in his groin. But the longer he stared at her, the bigger and higher that sensation spread until he felt it touch the edges of his heart.

For the first time ever, he wished he could crawl back in bed and hold the woman he’d just thoroughly loved. But he had a job to do.

He was here to keep Livia safe.

Chapter Seven

Livia woke up all alone. Hot damn. Could she ask for a more perfect end to her night with Wolfe?

She would never be able to express her appreciation that he let her have the bed to herself. She did love to sprawl.

The intimacy of sleeping together was dicey. Waking up and trying to hold an awkward conversation was the worst.

As she swung her legs over the bed and stretched, she felt small twinges in her overworked thigh muscles.

Another bonus—she didn’t often get a workout of that caliber.

Then she remembered the red mark on her ass.

Twisting toward the full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom, she stared at her skin.

Her pale skin.

The mark was gone.

Was that a flip of disappointment deep in her belly? She needed a good shaking if she was sad that Wolfe’s handprint had faded from her ass.

Time to get her life together, starting with a shower to wash his scent off her.

But he did smell yummy, a sharp musk laden with spice.

Oh lord. She’d never been that woman. She had a big life with big responsibility. Now was not the time to go soft.

After a cursory shower, she dressed for work at the bar again in her usual uniform of jeans and a Badlands T-shirt. This time she mixed it up with a white tee instead of black.

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