Page 41 of Life

“You’re safe with me. Here in my arms. You’re safe, Maria.”

I sigh and snuggle into the pillow and the warmth against my back. “Thank you.”

Eli leans over, touches his lips to my neck three times, and then tugs me even closer to his form. “Like you right here.”

The edges of sleep are taking me away, along with it my ability to be snarky. “Me too,” I mumble.

“Go to sleep, babe.”

“You have gotto be kidding me. He has a goddamned alibi?” Eli’s voice is a harsh whisper as I blink awake to his angry grumble. He lifts the covers back and sits at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, phone to one ear, head hanging down. “Two men at the warehouse vouch they saw him. It has to be him.”

Eli listens a few moments as I sit up and push my hair over my shoulder.

“She’s sure, man. Unless it’s a random stranger stalking her, but that would be pretty surprising and coincidental since she just got out of a stalker situation with her best friend. Yeah, Gillian Davis, used to be Callahan. Yes,thatDavis. Uh-huh. Keep looking. I want this one, Dice. Bad. Get me something.” Eli hangs up the phone abruptly.

I stare at the tan skin of his muscular back. Tommy was fit and worked out here and there, but Eli seems twice the size. Briefly, I wonder if the other half of his job is to lift weights. He’d have to spend some serious time in the gym to look like that. Not that I’m complaining. He’sperfección.

Eli sighs and tugs at his hair. I shift my legs, getting more comfortable. He looks over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize you were up. Sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

Like a foghorn on the Bay. I think our versions of quiet are two different things.

“Antonio alibied out?” I pick at the fibers of his deep burgundy comforter. The rich black threads weave in and out of the quilted look.

Eli lies back, his head falling into my lap so he’s looking up at me and I down at him. Without thought, I tunnel my fingers into his locks of hair. It’s surprisingly thick, but then again, the better part of my year was spent with a man who shaved his head every few days.

“Yeah, but we’ll get him. Catch him in a lie. I’ve got my guy doing some reconnaissance on his life. Flipping over some stones. That kind of thing.”

I nod. “Who’s Dice?”

“One of my staff members.”

“Bounty hunter?”

“One of the best.” He grins up at me.

“Who’s the best?”

“You’re looking at him.”

That makes me laugh out loud.

“Love it when you smile and laugh. You’re beautiful all the time, but when you smile, smoldering.”

I roll my eyes and run my fingers through his hair. “Thank you for last night. Being there for me. Not pushing too hard.”

He lifts a hand up to cup my face. His body follows it until his lips are over mine. He kisses me much slower than our hasty smash-and-grab the two times we went at it yesterday before everything went to shit.

His tongue softly traces the outline of my bottom lip, requesting entry. Wanting his kiss, this connection, I open for him.

For long moments, we sit and kiss. Deep plunges of tongues tangling, lips pressing, teeth nibbling. We’re learning each other, finding what the other likes best.

Eventually, we kiss for so long, only the sound of his phone ringing breaks us away from one another. I glance at the clock and realize we’ve been kissing for the past fifteen minutes. Just kissing. Neither of us even made a single move for more. And it was amazing. Absolutely what I needed today after everything I’ve been through. To connect, face-to-face, with a man I’m beyond attracted to, leery of falling for, and still ashamed to be with. I don’t know what an acceptable amount of time is before you start dating again after your boyfriend is murdered, but I do not think there is ever an acceptable time to start dating a dead boyfriend’s brother.

Holding my hand over my mouth, I crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom. Space. I need space right now.

I close the door and lean against the wood.Maria, you’ve got a screw loose, girl. Being with Eli is wrong. Being with anyone this soon is wrong. Isn’t it?

The answers don’t come. What does is the sound of Eli’s angry voice and drawers slamming. I open the door and peek out the few inches while he paces the room and tosses clothing on the bed. A pair of jeans goes flying.

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