Page 183 of Unexpected Hero

Once we stop gushing, she peppers me with rapid-fire questions and squeals along with me at all the best parts.

By the time I’m done, she asks, “Wait. So you just got home this morning?”

“Yeah. We never slept. When we weren’t doing all the orgasm-causing things, we talked and talked. He’s funny and smart as a whip. He told me about growing up in South Carolina, and we traded stories about small towns. I could have stayed all day and tonight again. But he had to go to work. He’s got a day job.” My brows do the wave, and I lower my voice. “And he ordered me to get some sleep. To rest up for later.”

“You beautiful sinner. You’re seeing him again, huh?”

I nod eagerly. “Yeah. Tonight, he’s teaching me cowgirl and reverse cowgirl.”

“So romantic,” she teases.

I ignore the jab. “I can’t wait to see him again. I like him so much, Stella. So damn much.”

“I’m glad for you, hun. Just take it slow. Don’t get all crazy. There’s no such thing as love at first dicking.” She wags her finger at me. “But yeah... enjoy it. You deserve this high.”

After trading a few more inappropriate jokes, we say our goodbyes.

I head to the kitchen for some water. Secretly, I’m hoping Freya’s awake. I want to gush more about James.And I should also thank her for covering the front desk for me last night. But she’s still asleep. Dammit. Working that night shift is a bitch.

Once I’m settled in bed with the blackout curtains drawn — those were one of the many generous gifts I’ve gotten from Freya since moving in — I cuddle my pillow to my chest, pretending it’s him. But nothing could come close to the bliss of being wrapped up in his arms. Until tonight when I see him again, it’ll have to do.

As thoughts of him stand at the edge of my consciousness, patiently waiting to see me in my dreams, I drift blissfully to sleep.

Chapter 36

Wildest Dreams (Tomer's version)

TOMER

“Come on. Come on,” I grumble to myself while I wait for the program to load.

“Relax, T. It’s like they say,” Klein rests back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head, “a watched dough never rises.”

I cut a glare at him, nose wrinkled and lip curled. “That’s not the phrase.”

His irritatingly cheery face gets infinitely more annoying as the corners of his mouth rise until his grin resembles the Joker’s. “A watched pie never bakes?”

“Not better.”

Tilting his head in my direction, he makes a third attempt to coin a new phrase. “A watched oven never preheats?”

“What’s with all the baking references?”

He shrugs, his eyes falling to his desk. “Started taking baking lessons.”

I’m nearly tempted to ask him to elaborate. It’s not every day that one of my Redleg brothers shares something that’s grounds for teasing. And a former Army Ranger turned bodyguard taking baking lessons would be fair game around this place.

But I don’t care to learn more about Klein baking, nor why he’s exposing himself to possible ridicule. And I’m not the type to tease someone. I’m the butt of the jokes around here, not the instigator. I know my place.

It’s probably related to his mother’s recent diagnosis. Truth be told, I shouldn’t know about that since he hasn’t volunteered the information. But I overheard a phone call with his sister the other day. He tried to code his words and muffle his voice, but I figured out enough to connect the dots.

We’re too fucking slammed to devote valuable working hours to talking about heavy shit like that. He can confide in Leo, Sawyer, or one of the emotional guys if he needs support. It’s not something I’m able to provide. Knowing me, I’d only make it worse.

I check my phone again, growing increasingly frustrated that I don’t have an answer for Lettie yet. She messaged me three times asking when I’ll get to Bask tonight. I promised her I’d watch her sing at Kinky Karaoke, and it’s killing me that I’ve already missed the first hour. But unless the new surveillance program loads properly this time, I’m not going to make it tonight.

And that’ll piss me off to no end. Not only am I desperate to hear her sing — in person this time — but I don’t want to let her down.

We’ve grown close over the few weeks since we crossed the line and became intimate. Every night after work, I visit her at the club, usually getting there around the end of her shift. If I get out of work early enough, I’ll rush home to catch a nap before meeting her. She comes to my house when she’s done working, and we spend the next few hours wrapped up in each other. It’s not only sex, although that’s amazing. She’s an eager student. But we also spend hours talking about everything and nothing.

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