Page 37 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

“What’s the real deal with these anyway? You said it wasn’t them per se, so what is it?”

I amnotsaying it out loud.

But I don’t have to. She knows.

“Will I break you if I lick one?”

“Yes.” Damn it.Why? Why did I say that?

“Okay.” She brushes a finger over my bottom lip, surprising the hell out of me. “I don’t want to break you, so I won’t touch them. Is it okay to kiss you and just…see what happens?”

I should shut this down right now. It’s gone way too far. She’s not laughing now or playing around. She’s being sweet and kind and respectful of my boundaries, and she’s still looking at me with so much heat, looking at me like I’m not some broken, damaged, fucked up to the core person. She’s looking at me like this is something we can do together, something we can connect over. I should be running from it because it’s the very thing I’ve been running my ass from all along, but I just can’t run anymore. And no, I’m not tired. I could continue running for the rest of my life. It’s more like I’ve found a safe spot to just take a rest and a breather for a second.

So I kiss her.

I kiss her like she’s made for me, like I belong to her. I don’t know when that happened. I don’t know when my protective instincts started being less about this job and more about her. All my instincts are about her. This isn’t part of my job. If anything, this could ruin my cover. I’ve known nothing but emptiness since my parents died. That emptiness has nothing to do with the money. I never tried to buy something to fill the hole inside me. I knew it wasn’t possible, and I didn’t even try.

Right now, I’m afraid of this kiss. I’m afraid because all those holes inside me—and my insides are about as hole-riddled as a moth-eaten old wool sweater stored in a not-so-moth-proof trunk for the better part of a hundred years—don’t feel so hole-ish. It feels as wrong as kissing her feels right.

I feel as if another string has unraveled from the tight, ugly ball of twine that is my life. No, fuck it. The ball of twine is me. It’s me, and I’m losing strings. If I keep shedding them and shedding them, there’s going to be nothing left of me.

I always thought I just felt so much sadness that there was no end to it. I didn’t want there to be more, even though adding endlessness to never-ending shouldn’t have been a problem. But it was. It is.

When I leave, Ignacia is going to be holding that string. The memory of her will keep on falling and falling and falling inside the pit within me. It doesn’t matter if it’s bottomless. She’s inside me forever now.

“Ignacia…”

She traces my bottom lip with her tongue and kisses me so gently after that it robs me of speech. “What?” We’re both breathless, and I’m panting. I’m out of control, and that’s the one thing I never, ever give up.

“I can’t give you what you want,” I say weakly.

“Yeah, I know we’re not going to go all the way. Your cock can stay safely where it is. No worries.”

“What?”

“I already expected you to tell me you couldn’t go all the way. I don’t care, Beau. Just finger me, and I’ll finish you off however you want. That can be hot, too.”

Jesus Christ, this woman. Jesus, god, that mouth.

She won’t have to finish me off. At this rate, I’m going to blow my load in my sweats and then straight-up die.

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Really?” She circles my nipple with her finger. “Were you going to tell me about your long list of kinks? I draw the line at weird objects doing dangerous things, but I’m pretty open otherwise. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me.”

“I can’t give you what you want,” I repeat. Not in this bed. Although, that would also be for the best. This has gone too far already. “I can’t give you romance. I can’t give you candlelight and snuggles. And I’m never going to be the one you come home to.”

“Err, ummm…” I guess I darned well earned thewell, duhlook she beams down at me. “I gathered that. I’m also basically a fugitive, and my life is a hot mess. I didn’t expect you’d want to get involved. As for the boyfriend material part, I always thought that was off the table. You’re way too much a by-the-books or by-the-contract kind of dude.”

“Dude?” I sputter indignantly.

“Dude.” Then, she kisses the end of my nose and rolls off of me.

Rolls. Off. Of. Me.

I’m officially going to die because now she’s pulling the blankets around her and turning to face the other direction. Her body language isn’t screamingfuck you, you insensitive prick of an assholeat me, so I just sit here gaping at her quilt-clad back.

My balls are going to need CPR in a second if they get any bluer, but it’s my jaw that’s going to need a crane to pick it upand put it back in place. My dick isn’t in charge, but literally, what the fuck? She’s just going to go to sleep?

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