Page 6 of His Captive Pet

“Stay there.” After digging around the ice machine, he brought her back a pack. “Sit down.” He pointed to the stool behind her. He was only mildly surprised when she obeyed. He placed the bag on her jaw. “We should have done this earlier, but you were asleep. Not sure how much it will help now. You’re gonna have a nasty bruise.” He pushed her hand away when she tried to reach up for the ice. Other than a glare, she made no more protest.

“I can do this at home,” she whispered, moving her gaze from his to settle on his chin.

“I know.”

“I had too many drinks,” she confessed quietly. He couldn’t help but smile over the softness of her voice.

“I know.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep it off. I don’t usually drink like that.”

“I know.”

“Can’t you say anything else?” The heat was back in her voice. “And how do you know?”

“This is my bar. I know almost everything that goes on in it.” He took the ice away from her skin and turned her to face him, capturing her gaze. “It’s past midnight. I’m walking you home,” he said once her eyes finally met his. Her throat tensed as she swallowed.

“Fine.” She conceded with feigned irritation. The soft pink brushing her cheeks and the dilation of her pupils betrayed her. No, his little hellcat wasn’t the least bit irritated by his authoritative tone; he bet if he were able to slip his hand down her jeans, he’d find her panties damp with arousal.

“Good.” His knuckles brushed across her jaw as he kept her eyes locked with his. Her lips parted just enough for her pink tongue to dart out and moisten them. Her eyes dilated more. She wanted him to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. They were close; if he only leaned down just a bit more, he’d get to feel her lips pressed against his again. He grinned at the soft growl she tried to hide when he released her and tossed the ice into the sink. “Let’s go, then.” He grabbed her hand and they headed out.

Chapter Three

Sunlight flooded the kitchen, making Aubree squint while she went about finding a clean mug for a cup of coffee. Suddenly she wished she’d run the dishwasher more often. Living alone, it took almost a week before the washer filled enough to justify running it, but she was too lazy to hand-wash after every meal.

I bet Blake isn’t lazy.

She needed to stop letting her mind wander to Blake. It was a nice gesture, walking her home, but it didn’t mean anything. And, as if remembering the protective way he behaved on the walk wasn’t enough to make her all heated again, she remembered how she’d ended up in his damn office to begin with. It was bad enough he’d tossed her over his shoulder, but he’d slapped her ass.

The disturbing issue was she hadn’t reprimanded him for it. She hadn’t even fought him. Instead, she’d relaxed, her entire body betraying her. The walk home hadn’t been much different. He’d gripped her hand the entire way. Not a hard, uncomfortable grip, but possessive. A firm hold telling anyone walking by she belonged with him, and she’d not fought that, either. She’d melted into the warmth of his palm. Had even run her thumb over his knuckle as they walked.

When he deposited her on her front step, she insisted she was fine and he could go, but he refused. He’d stood beside her as she unlocked her door. He gave her instructions to take a few ibuprofens and drink another bottle of water before going to bed. She had only nodded. She would have been lying if she didn’t admit she’d hoped he would lean down and give her a longer kiss than he had at the bar, but he hadn’t. Had he regretted the little peck?

She’d gone inside and locked the door, peeking through the peephole to watch him leave. He had switched the lock on the screen door and shut it firmly, checking it to be sure it was secure before he headed down the stairs.

Who locks the screen door?

Samuel brushed against her leg on his way to his water bowl. “Sorry, bud, we’ll take our walk later.” She opened another cabinet. “Maybe I need to buy more mugs.” She smiled down at the chocolate-colored pit bull lapping up water.

Just as she stood on her tiptoes to reach the back of the cabinet for the last mug, the doorbell rang, and Samuel rushed from the room, nearly knocking her down in the process. His resounding bark filled the small townhouse, echoing off the walls.

She understood the fear some had of pit bulls, and he sounded terrifying, but she would never understand the ignorance. Samuel sounded like a death machine, and even looked like one, too, when protecting her from the evil vacuum cleaner, but the gentleness he possessed far outweighed the misconception of his strength.

Aubree settled Samuel down and put him behind her so she could unlock the door. He remained seated, but she could feel his head pushing through her legs to get a better look at the intruder. “It’s probably just Jean,” she assured him, referring to their neighbor. Jean’s husband had recently walked out on her, and on more than one occasion she’d find her way to Aubree’s house to have some company.

Fully expecting to see a red-eyed thirty-year-old, she sucked in her breath at the sight of Blake Tanner standing on her front stoop, holding two takeout cups of coffee. His disheveled hair of the previous evening no longer tossed every which way, but instead looked combed back away from his eyes. His black T-shirt hugged his upper body more than she remembered from the night before, and for the first time, she noticed the tattoo covering his upper arm.

“Good morning, Aubree,” he said through the screen door when she remained silent.

“Oh. Hi.” Samuel peeked through her legs again and must have decided everything was fine, because he turned around and padded away.Great guard dog!

“I brought coffee. Thought you might need some this morning.” He flashed her a grin. If she thought he was good-looking with a mere smile on his face, he was fucking amazingly gorgeous with a grin. His strong facial features mingled with the curve of his lips, making her want his kiss even more.

Get it together! It’s just fucking coffee!

“Thanks.” She pushed the screen door before she remembered he had locked it the night before. Unlatching the door, she opened it for him. “You didn’t need to.” She nodded to the cups in his hands. “I’m good. Those ibuprofens must have helped a lot.”

“I wanted to,” he stated, taking a step toward the door.

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