Page 17 of Provoke You

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbled as he typed furiously.

“What? I thought we were tossing ideas around.”

“We weren’t.” He sauntered right past me on his way to the bathroom. With the door still opened, he ran the water, then reached behind him to pull his T-shirt over his head.

How nice of him to let me watch. Except he did it mostly to keep an eye on me. As much as I wanted to stay and see the front of him, I couldn’t waste another second. I tiptoed back to my closet, shoved my feet into my shoes, and made for the door, grabbing the smaller suitcase on my way out. I wasn’t bluffing before when I told Matt I knew New Orleans like the back of my hand.

I had to find someone who could help me find Ben. On a Wednesday, I bet my friend Amy was bartending tonight. I could borrow her car and drive up to New York.

The shower took about three minutes to warm up. If he took five minutes to wash up, I’d have roughly eight minutes to make it to the old church at the edge of the French Quarter. Plenty of time to get there if I cut through my other friend’s house. Once inside the church, there would be no way he’d be able to find me. Just like Dad, Matt kept underestimating me.

I swung the door open, took two long strides outside the room, and rammed into what felt like a brick wall. “What the fuck?”

A rather large guy, maybe even taller than Matt, smiled at me. His brown gaze calmly settled on my face. He didn’t need to say anything. Of course, he was here to make sure I didn’t go anywhere. “Is there anything I can get you, Miss?”

“You could fetch my car.” I rolled my suitcase closer to me.

His eyes fell on it before he looked back at me. “The car is scheduled for tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred, Miss.”

“Oh-eight-hundred? Great. Another marine.” I threw my arms up in the air. “Did Dad send you?”

“The boss called me.”

I assumed he meant Matt. He looked like the type, bossing everyone around. “You got here fast.” I headed back to the room.

“I live in town.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I spat the words before I slammed the door. When I turned, Matt was in the middle of the room, a towel precariously wrapped around his waist, while he dried his hair. Jeez, he had a lot more ink on his body than I first imagined. The line of text peeking from the V-neck of his T-shirt and those hard pecs was just a small sample of what lay underneath.

I swallowed, using my suitcase for support. Demigod was right. Every pass he made over his head with the towel, his abs strained, showcasing every hard plane on his body — over his chest, along his sides, and down the middle. Like a magnet, that v-muscle drew me in, showing me the way. I glanced at my watch.

“That was a quick shower.”

“I needed the cold water. Were you going somewhere without me?”

“I failed your test, didn’t I?”

“You did.” He went back into the bathroom and tossed the towel on the floor when he was out of my line of sight. When he showed his face again, he was fully dressed in the clothes he wore this morning.

“Now what?” I crossed my arms over my chest. At the thought of what he might do to me for failing his test, the ache between my legs went from mild to intense and stayed there.

“From now on, you don’t leave my side.

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