Page 6 of Semi-Reckless

She rubbed her chest. “Well, it hurt like a motherfucker!”

Again with the smirk. “I know.”

He also knew damn well that complaining about him doing exactly what she’d asked him to do would make her a complete douche. So, she gritted her teeth and said, “Thank you, Carl.”

He gave her a slight nod and a half bow. “Will that be all, Miss Haven?”

“Yes.” She uttered the phrase that would allow Carl to leave Section 8. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

He turned to go, but gave her one last, long look. “Do try not to die, will you?”

Why did everyone keep saying that to her? “From your mouth to my mother’s ears, friend.”

CHAPTER 4

In Roan Malek’s home world, there wasn’t much beauty. Beautiful things didn’t survive in such harsh conditions. But here, in this dimension, beauty was everywhere. The landscape, the people, animals…it was all gorgeous. Hell, even the food here was beautiful.

But to this day, Haven Hall was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Seeing her was always a gut punch. But seeing her now? Here? Pounding on his door?

He didn’t even have words.

Pretending he wasn’t home wasn’t an option. Her ability to read auras had already told her he was here. She could most assuredly see how her presence absolutely wrecked him.

Hopefully, he could hide how much he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go again. Which was not an option. Not after what had happened.

Not after what he’d done to her. The thing he could never tell her.

Through the peephole in his front door, he saw her tapping her foot impatiently. Haven had many virtues, but patience wasn’t one of them. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it all yesterday.

“You know I know you’re in there, Roan,” she snapped. “Open the damn door.”

He was surprised it had taken her two years to try tracking him down. She could’ve done so easily. He imagined it was pride that kept her away. Or maybe she just hated him.

Which was, of course, the whole point of him leaving Section 8 and not telling anyone where he was going. She was supposed to go on with her life and forget all about him (except for when she waltzed head-first into danger and he needed to teleport her to safety), and the only way she’d do that was if she hated him.

So why did the thought of her hating him feel like a knife to the heart?

He did his best to brush the feeling off and focus on his next move. Hopefully, that next move would not involve falling to his knees at her feet and begging for her forgiveness.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened his door and crossed his arms over his chest to keep from reaching for her.

He’d like to say that after years of knowing her, he could look at her without his breath getting lodged in his throat. But he couldn’t. Because, damn it, she was so damn beautiful it hurt to look at her for too long. Knife-edged cheekbones, full, pouty pink lips, delicate, dark-winged brows, eyes greener than any forest in any dimension he’d ever seen…phew. It was a lot to take in. And that wasn’t even taking into account the waist-length, thick, black curls that he’d kill to wrap around his fist just once. Or the lush curves and elegant lines of her body and how perfectly they’d line up with the hard angles of his.

But if he was going to avoid dragging her into his house, pinning her to his bed and never letting her go, he really needed to change the direction of his thoughts, which meant not waxing poetic about her face and body.

Haven had zero ability to hide her feelings. Every emotion was written all over her face. It was one of the things he loved most about her. And what he was seeing on her face right now?

Anger. Pain. Disappointment. So much anger and pain and disappointment that she looked ready to punch him. He almost wished she would. A punch would hurt him a lot less than knowing he was the cause of every one of those emotions.

Her feelings warred within her for a few moments and he waited to see which would win out. Ultimately, it was the anger. Roan was glad. The anger was so much better than the pain.

Haven crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his posture. He refused—refused, damn it—to notice how the action drew attention to the way her breasts filled out her simple black T-shirt.

“I don’t want to talk about what you think I want to talk about,” she said, narrowing her eyes on him.

This felt like a trap. “OK.”

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