“Are you going to Jimmy and Blaire’s house this weekend?”
I lean against the doorframe, a hopeless smile on my face. “Is that why you came over—to ask me a simple question you could have texted?”
“Yeah.” He grabs the door with one hand, pushing it open as he steps over my threshold. “That’s exactly why I came over.” The smirk threatening to appear on his lips says otherwise. “But there’s always other reasons I’d stop by.”
The tension between us is instantly thick, a low hum practically buzzing through the room. “Like?” I walk around the kitchen island and he follows me. I pull out two bottles of water, handing him one.
“Making sure you’re safe.” His fingers graze mine when he takes the bottle from me but first, they linger just a second longer than usual. “And that you’ve eaten something?” He questions me and I nod. “Good.” He winks, bringing the bottle of water to his lips and draining it in seconds. His hand dwarfs the size of the regular bottle. I glance down at the one in my hand for comparison and remember I struggled to stretch mine around just two of his fingers.
“What?” He cocks his head, a funny smile on his face.
“Nothing.” I start to turn away but he doesn’t let me.
“Why are you blushing, then?” He leans against the counter, his long legs outstretched in front of him. “Hey.” He pulls me closer to him until I’m between his legs, the intimate gesture not feeling weird or out of place between us. It’s something that should scare me, the way I so easily have fallen into a trusting relationship with a man I don’t really know… but it doesn’t, not with him. “I want you to feel comfortable sharing with me what’s on your mind, especially if it has something to do with us.”
Us.
My stomach flip-flops. He says it so effortlessly, but then I quickly remind myself we are pretending to be a couple. Sure, not behind closed doors, but it’s easy to cross the lines, mix the signals when the night before his tongue was inside me. My face grows even redder.
“I just noticed how big your hands are is all.”
“That was it?” He glances down at his hand. “Why’d you blush then?”
“You know why,” I say a little petulantly. “Because you have big fingers and it hurt when you—you know, last night.”
He chuckles. “Someone doesn’t like having to say naughty things, does she?” He tickles my side, making me squirm. “But you had no problem asking me to tell you what I was going to do with your panties,” he teases, making me laugh. “But…” His tenor changes slightly. “I like hearing you saying naughty things.” He runs his thumb back and forth over my jaw. “It does things to me.”
“Me too,” I confess, just above a whisper as we both lean in toward one another. I sigh, sinking into him just as our lips are about to touch when there’s a banging on my door. Startled, I jump back but Harvey only tightens his grasp on me.
“Expecting someone?”
“No.” I push away from him and tiptoe to the door, reaching up on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. I gasp and step back. “It’s Mr. Blake.” He knocks again, only this time louder.
“Do me a favor and let him in. I’m going to step back into your bedroom for a minute.” I’m about to protest when he reaches down and pulls his pant leg up, revealing a gun strapped to his calf. He pulls it free, checking the safety before nodding toward me.
I let out a long breath before slowly opening the door. “Good evening, Mr. Blake.” I try to sound casual but with just enough of a question in my voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I think you know exactly why I’m here,” he says, his hand shooting forward until it’s flat against my door. “It’s time we had a talk.”
“Ab-about what exactly?” I stumble backward slightly as he pushes into my apartment, closing the door behind him.
“You know”—he shakes his head with a calculated sounding laugh—“if I had known you were going to be this much trouble, I would have never given you the time of day.” He removes his suit coat, methodically folding it and hanging it over the back of my barstool. “Guess I should have stuck with the dumb but pretty ones, huh?”
“Trouble? Mr. Blake, I haven’t done anything to give you any trouble with all of this.” I shake my head in confusion but also fear. I don’t want him saying anything that will have Harvey asking deeper questions. “I agreed I would help you with this—this financial issue you’re having. But after that, it’s done, right? I can move on with my life and my career?” I know I probably sound beyond naive, the pathetic young woman begging and pleading as if that will make a difference to a narcissist like Connor Blake.
“No?” He lunges forward, grabbing my wrist and tugging me toward him. “You mean it’s just a coincidence that your ‘boyfriend’ so happens to be the man who owns Four Forces, the firm I just hired for my private security?”
“Yes! I had no idea you were hiring anyone for security, Mr. Blake. How would I?” He studies me, then releases my wrist. I grab it, rubbing at the red welt he left behind.
“I want it to be clear that I don’t believe you, but don’t you dare think that this will have any impact on the favor you owe me. Which brings me to why I’m here.” He grabs the barstool now and pulls it out a few feet so that he can take a seat on it.
My back is toward my bedroom but I don’t have to hear or see Harvey to know that he’s made his entrance. The evil snarl on Mr. Blake’s face quickly withers into a pathetic frown.
“And what is this favor exactly that you need from my girlfriend?” Harvey casually places his foot on the low bar of the other stool, leaning onto his knee as he levels his gaze at Connor.
“Afraid that’s none of your business.”
“I’m pretty damn confident it is my business when you walk into the apartment of the woman I love.” He pushes off with his foot and stands next to me, his arm snaking around my body as his hand settles against my waist. “And demand her time and attention. Well, you’ve got it, Connor, so whatever it is you need to say to her, you can say to me.”