Page 2 of Securing the Odds

“I hit the lights right.” He wouldn’t tell her he had to put the pedal to the metal on a few yellows in order to make that happen.

She moved to the side, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

Moving inside, his eyes scanned her place. While he knew where she lived, he’d never been inside. He liked it. It felt homey. A big, overstuffed, comfortable looking couch with tan and beige print took center stage in the living room with a wooden coffee and end tables surrounding it. A mid-sized TV hung on the wall along with colorful framed prints depicting various nature scenes. Photographs cluttered the mantel—of her mom, Nate, the three of them together, and a few with people he couldn’t name.

The interior of the kitchen was visible from where he stood. He saw artwork and papers held on by vegetable magnets covering the fridge. The counters were tidy but cluttered with a variety of small appliances. A breakfast bar held a stack of mail, a pile of papers with a red marker sitting on top, a coffee cup, and a cardboard box roughly about eight inches square with its flaps hanging open.

“The package?” he asked, lifting his chin in the box’s direction.

“Yeah. The phone’s inside.” She moved closer to him, and he could smell her scent—something floral with a hint of citrus. Mouthwatering.

He went over to the breakfast bar and inspected the box—a run-of-the-mill light-brown one with no distinct markings. “You said it was addressed to you, but I’m assuming there was no return address.”

She shook her head. “But it came by courier. I had to sign for it.”

“You remember the name of the company?”

She closed her eyes, a little line appearing between her brows as she thought. She shook her head again. “No. But the guy was wearing a light-blue baseball cap.” She opened her eyes, her brown gaze capturing his, her expression turning apologetic. “I’m not sure if that helps.”

“It does,” he reassured her. Though it wasn’t much to go on, he’d have Margaret look into it just in case.

He reached into the box and pulled out the phone, flipping it open with his thumb, grinding his teeth as he read the text.

You’ve got 48 hours to deliver the 200 grand Kevin owes us or we’re coming after you. We’ll be in touch.

Tammy’s head entered his field of vision as she moved in close to reread the text, and he got a whiff of her hair, the florally citrus scent hitting him stronger.

She released a shuddering breath and white-knuckled the counter’s edge, her whole body going tense. “Jake, I don’t have that kind of money. I used it to buy this place. I mean, I know Nate does, but I don’t want to ask—”

“Fuck that. I didn’t get your money back for these pricks to take it away. Your shithead ex owes them money, we’ll deliver him instead.” Yeah, it wasn’t entirely kosher and not the way he would normally do things, but for Tammy he would bend the rules.

“But what if he doesn’t have the money?”

There was an edge to her voice, and he didn’t like how pale her face had gotten. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The panicked expression didn’t leave her face, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her head to look at him. Her eyes grew wide at the same time a spark shot up his arm. Fuck, their touch was electric. “I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

She licked her lips, staring up with big, brown eyes that called to him. His head was dropping before he even had a thought to stop it.

The first touch of his lips to hers had his eyes closing and a groan almost escaping. He’d fantasized about this moment so many times, but nothing had come close to the reality. Her lips were soft, and he sank into them, hers yielding to the pressure as the kiss turned from a gentle caress to a forceful devouring.

He’d waited so long for a taste of her. So long for her to be ready and not in a mindset that all guys were assholes. And he still wasn’t sure if that time was now, but fate had taken it out of his hands. She’d called him. Her time was up. No more waiting. He was making her his.

Besides, his head wasn’t doing the thinking for him any longer. Well, at least not the one supported by his neck.

Their tongues went to war, and he did groan at the slick, warm glide of hers chasing his as he explored her mouth. The hand holding her chin moved to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in the softest fucking hair he’d ever felt, as his other hit the small of her back, drawing her closer so her body was flush with his.

She fit him perfectly. Her tits smashed against his ribs, her soft belly the perfect cradle for his straining dick. He felt her arms encircle his back, her fists grabbing hold of his tee right below his shoulder blades. His hand dipped lower, molding her ass that stretched the fabric of her skirt, his fingers flexing and itching to feel it uncovered.

Time seemed to stand still. The outside world no longer existed. All he could hear was his heartbeat. All he could smell were flowers and citrus. All he could taste was pure fucking heaven. And all he could feel was the woman cradled in his arms and the frenzied need, that same woman created, raging through his body. The sensations were sucking him under to a point, he knew, if he didn’t stop it now, he might not be able to at all.

And while he didn’t want the kiss to end, he knew it should. His head—the one where his brain was located—had finally caught up to his actions. Actions that his treacherous brain thought might be a tad over the top for a first-time meeting after two long years.

He eased away. Reluctantly untangled his fingers from her hair. And even more reluctantly took a step back, creating a space between them.

Her lips were red, kiss-swollen, slightly parted, and glistening in the light coming through the kitchen window. The caveman part of his anatomy liked the dazed expression he’d put on her face. Liked the disheveled state of her hair. Liked the way she licked her lips as if trying to get another taste of him.

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