Page 46 of Texting My Valentine

“Try me.”

“It’s Damien. He’s not a stranger. He’s got a connection to me. Sort of. It’s so messed up.”

I take her hand, careful not to let my touch wander anywhere else. “Explain.”

“Mom had an ex who was into some shady stuff. A ‘two-bit criminal,’ she called him. Anyway, she’s not proud of this, but she cheated on him. Twice. When he found out, he was angry. Apparently, he sent her threatening texts and even letters for a while. She hid all of this from me. He has a son. Guess what his name is.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Tori nods. “I know, right? My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m sorry, Tori.”

“Do you think that’s why Damien got the job in the first place? He started after me.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. More likely, he started working there, learned who you were later, and decided to get revenge for his dad. Or maybe he doesn’t even know.”

She tightens her grip on my hand. “So much for casual, huh? I’m pulling you into a freakingconspiracy.”

“You’re not pulling me into anything,” I tell her fervently. “I’m here; I’m involved because I want to be. Let me take you to my apartment.”

“Won’t Elliot be sleeping?” she asks.

Am I being paranoid, or is her tone strange? She sounds suspicious. I can’t figure out why she would be, though.

“I’ve got the beach house, where I live with Elliot, and an apartment I use when my shifts end at awkward times or if I’m on call.”

“Oh.” More suspicion, I think. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m here for you, Tori.”

“So this is your bachelor pad, huh?” she says, walking ahead of me and looking around the modern, bare apartment.

“That’s not how I’d describe it.”

She walks around the living room, looking at the pictures on the walls, watercolors of nature scenes that were hanging there when I moved in. As she studies the place, I imagine her sprucing it up, giving it some character. Through her eyes, it probably looks sort of depressing.

“There’s a spare room,” I tell her. “If you’re worried about me pouncing on you.”

She turns, pouting, so beautiful it hurts being close to her. All those years, I was cynical and alone, but deep down, wanting my one and only. As she stands in the semidarkness, her eyes glimmering with excitement, I can’t fight the truth.

I’ve found her. Tori is the one.

“Is that what you want?” she whispers.

“What I want is too damn savage for words.” My voice shudders.

She raises an eyebrow. “Try me,” she whispers.

I know she wants to forget, but can I give into my desire now, so soon after she’s had a fight with her mom?

Perhaps another man, a better man, would take the high ground here. But I can’t resist the hunger blazing in me. I walk across the room and sink my hands greedily into her hips.

“What I want is to forget about everything. That rat with the gun. Thisconspiracyyou’ve pulled me into. I want to forget about your stubborn promise to keep this casual. I want to forget about everything, Tori, except your desire.” I slide my hands to the voluptuous round globes of her ass, eliciting a moan that goes right to the base of my dick, making my balls swell. “I want you to feel how hard you make me. I want to slip in your perfect pussy and show you how badly I need you…”

A look of nervousness flashes across her face, but then she sinks her touch into my shoulders. She pulls herself right up against me, standing on her tiptoes.

“Then take what you need.”

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