Page 84 of Inked Athena

“Those bags look heavy,” Myles remarks for the millionth time. “Sure I can’t help?”

Hope’s cherry-red lips curl into a wicked smile. “My bedroom’s a fortress, soldier. Not that easy to breach.”

He peers down the hall to the room in question. “There an application process I should know about?”

“Big time. Long. Grueling. Only the elite make it through.”

“Good thing I’ve got a perfect track record.” His massive shoulders rise in a casual shrug that’s anything but casual. “And I always finish what I start.”

Pink floods Hope’s cheeks—a rare sight on my usually unflappable friend. She busies herself with her shopping bags, but I catch her sneaking glances up at him through her lashes. “Cocky, much?”

“I prefer ‘determined.’ I usually get what I want.”

“I’m sure you’ve been ‘determined’ to get a lot of women.”

Myles presses a hand to his chest. “You wound me. I’m like a penguin. A one-woman kind of man. It’s quality over quantity for me.”

“Which am I?”

“Quality.” His voice drops to a rumble that makes even my toes curl. “Crème de la crème.”

She giggles shyly, a sound I’ve literally never heard from her before. “Paris is on the other side of the Channel, lover boy.”

But Myles is completely undeterred. “Close enough.” His palm connects with the wall by her head. and holy mother of foreplay, this is it.

Then Hope’s eyes find mine. I cringe, stifle a scream, and try to duck back around the corner.

But no dice. Busted.

The door clicks shut moments later. Hope floats in while I fold my new clothes with fake concentration.

“He’s a charmer, that one,” she remarks, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

“The Bratva boys do bring the heat.”

She face-plants onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh. “He’s nothing but trouble, though.”

I park myself next to her. “I might be slightly biased here, but it must be said: Myles is a good egg, Hope. You could do a whole lot worse.”

“You’re supposed to tell me to be careful and not get emotionally involved. I was counting on you to be the voice of reason here.” She pokes me in the thigh and laughs, though it fades quickly.

I don’t give her the easy out of the joke. “You like him, don’t you?”

She rolls her eyes toward the crown molding. “Duh. He’s walking, talking book boyfriend material. Ink, muscle, danger—the unholy trinity. My lady bits are doing the mambo.”

“Ew, Hope, spare me the details.”

“Is this how Samuil got you? The whole dangerous-and-delicious combo?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Let’s leave my lady bits out of this.”

She flops onto her stomach with a dramatic groan. “Dating Myles would be like… like juggling. Juggling chainsaws, maybe. While walking a tightrope. And the tightrope is on fire.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Is that you being the rational angel on my shoulder? Are you telling me to run for the hills? Will you and your Russian sugar daddy fund my new identity and help me start fresh somewhere tropical?” Before I can answer her jumbled nonsense, she sighs. “But hissmile, NoNo. Have you seen his smile? Every time he smiles at me?—”

“When you’re gushing about his smile,” I warn, “you’re already drowning. My rational advice won’t save you now.”

---