Page 94 of Mended Hearts

Which is why my heart stuttered because there was goodbye in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Trouble.”

Then he turned and walked away.

“Are you serious!?”

His only reply was a low, bemused chuckle as he disappeared down the hall.

And my damn heels? Absolutely glued to the floor.

Oliver

Perfect.She was so goddamn perfect I could feel my pulse in every inch of my skin. The marrow of my bones sang with it. My cock had been at half-mast for most of the evening, and the look of stunned horror on her face as I walked away hadn’t been enough to convince it to calm down.

But I had a plan. A strategy. One I intended to follow if I wanted to win her over—really win her over. Because this woman wasn’t a fling. She was it. The answer to a prayer I didn’t realize I’d made. The universe’s defibrillator for my heart. Just as jarring. Just as brutally necessary. Probably twice as exhilarating.

One night. That’s what I’d asked for, so I could beg for another. And that’s exactly what I planned to do—right after I jacked off in the fucking shower. Because no amount of strategic restraint could convince my body to chill out after having her hands on me, her voice in my ear, and those gray-blue eyes looking at me like that.

All very noble in theory, promptly destroyed by the chirp of my alarm system and the sharp voice of the man Jackson called “Viper” over the comms: “Ms. Rhodes, is everything alright?”

Leighton?

Her sharp, “It’s fine. Now at ease, or whatever it is you say that means ‘go away,’ please,” had me laughing as I wrapped a towel around my waist and jogged into the hallway.

I met the steely eyes of Captain Reynolds’ latest addition—dark hair, darker glare—who clearly didn’t love finding me half-naked. He scowled, but dipped his chin and disappeared down the stairs.

Then she turned that fire on me.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” I asked, amused—and more than a little distracted by her bare legs and wet hair. She’d changed into an oversized charcoal T-shirt and unlaced Docs. Her long hair hung in damp waves to either side of her face, and she looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of every punk-rock daydream I’d ever had. And she was pissed.

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh, run, or drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.

“Youpursuedme,” she said, stomping forward. “Youaskedmeout. Then you proceed to plan the world’s most romantic evening in history, and you just leave me there with panties so wet they would’ve dissolved if they were edible?!”

“Jesus Christ, Trouble.”

“That’s one.” She held up her finger like she was keeping score.

To his credit, Viper didn’t crack a smile, but he did speed up his retreat. My parents would’ve rolled in their graves—again—if they knew how often I got scolded in my own damn house.

She stormed into my space before her eyes finally dropped to my bare chest, and widened like she hadn’t realized I was wearing nothing but a towel until she could smell the body wash.

“I already told you.”

“Told me what?”

“I want to do this right this time.”

“By edging me out?”

“I mean…” I smirked when her eyes narrowed. “Edging can be pretty beneficial. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“You didn’t even come in for coffee.”

“You didn’t ask.”

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