Page 25 of Make You Mine

Elijah Ford is going to be extremely dangerous for me.

“How about now?”

He looks over and rolls his eyes with mock annoyance, sweeping the last bit into a dustpan he produced out of nowhere. Or did he bring that with him? “...dirty. Can you?”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

“Can you wipe down the appliances and cabinet doors that got dirty?”

“Oh, um. Yeah.” I brace my palms on the granite to help me jump down when, in the blink of an eye, he’s on me. Grabbing my hips in his strong hands, Eli picks me up and places me on the floor right in front of him. I stumble a bit and brace myself against his chest. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt. These are higher than the standard because of my height.”

Our proximity is like a drug, clouding my judgment once more. And before I can chicken out—before I can rationalize just how idiotic I am—I lean forward and kiss his chin.

That quick peck on his skin nearly breaks me in two.

However, because I’m a bigger chicken than an idiot, I step back quickly and avert my eyes, focusing instead on the different bottles beside the rags. “Which one can I use for the cabinets?”

“Either of the two light pink ones is fine.” It comes out as a groan, and I ignore it. Choosing to focus on the task at hand, I fight the urge to turn around and let him see me.

How he’s affecting me.

How much I wish it’d been his lips instead.

This man is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with the wordswrong timestamped across his forehead. There’s also something completely lovely about how easily his clumsiness breaks down the last dregs of my anxiety. Because right now, as we work in tandem, I can’t help but smile and ignore the slow ache building through my limbs.

This moment is honest. Sweet. Just what I needed to feel a bit normal again.

9

AVA

I’m a wimp. Can’t deny it even if I wanted to.

Not when I’ve gone out of my way to stay out of sight for four days now. If he enters the room I’m in, I leave, finding every excuse under the sun to avoid meeting his stare for longer than a few seconds.

To keep from drowning in hiseverything.

It’s the only way to survive him. Us. This attraction is wrong—forbidden for more reasons than just his job. His assignment is to protect me.

My focus should be on surviving Jason’s threat and staying alive, not on the detective keeping me safe—even if he embodies everything I find attractive in a man.

He’s strong and protective and thoughtful, andfuck meif he’s not handsome. Sexy in a way that makes my breath hitch and my palms sweat whenever he’s close.

It’s a weakness. A temptation.

To not fall for him? I flee.

To not lick his jaw? I hide.

Like now, I’m standing in front of the door to my room contemplating my next move: head outside or stay? Offer myself, or disappear?

Stop. Breathe. It’s nothing and will stay nothing.

Not that simple for two reasons:

I’m attracted to him.

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