Page 41 of Power Play

Breaking his gaze, I rest my chin on my knees. A breath catches in my chest at the sight of Trouble, also in the room, perched on the edge of the large four poster bed.

“This won't be a thing, will it?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. The annoyed look on his face is almost believable if it weren't for the deep crease between his brows signaling the concern that lurks beneath the facade.

“And what would that be?” I sniffle and discreetly wipe my nose across my jeans in attempts to look somewhat presentable.

He waves in my direction with a pointed look to my tear smeared face. “The crying.”

“For fuck’s sake, Benson.” Pure exasperation fills T's tone.

A genuine laugh tickles my chest, making the tears slow. “Fuck, I hope not. But if every day for the next couple months or worse four years is like the last twenty-four hours, I can't give you any promises.” My teeth sink into the nail of my pinkie. “It won't be, right?”

Both men huff. “Sure as hell hope not. It's been a day of firsts for us too.”

“Does that mean I win some kind of prize?”

“For what?” Trouble asks, his signature sexy smirk on full display.

“Being the biggest mess in the shortest amount of time.” I flick my gaze between the two men. “Come on. I deserve something for adding some excitement to your mundane lives, right?”

T drops his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. “And what kind of prize were you thinking?”

“Candy, of course.” Duh.

“Chocolate?” His voice rises, his eyes wide.

“Down, boy.” Trouble laughs. “This is for her, not you.”

“You like chocolate?” I can't help my growing smile. He looks like a guy who would snack on bullets or whole turkey legs, not chocolate. “We're going to be good friends, you and I.”

“Friends?” His eyes narrow. “We're here to protect you, not be your friends.”

Tears well again. Fuck, why does that hurt so bad?

“Idiot,” Trouble mutters. His heavy footsteps pause in front of my Converse. “And you're the married one. Sometimes I feel sorry for Sarah.” T grunts something in return I don't make out. “I'll take care of Hot Mess here. You go get her something to eat. It's been a while since breakfast.”

T grumbles through his groans of pain as he stands and heads out of the room. The door softly clicks behind him.

“Come on.” Trouble extends a hand down, wiggling his fingers in front of my face. “Get off the floor and I'll find you something better than chocolate.”

I seal my lips to suppress my smile. The same lusty heat from earlier sweeps through my body when I slide my hand into his. One swift pull and I'm standing with one hand pressed against his chest, the other still wrapped in his. My heart pounds, pulse skyrocketing at our close proximity. Tipping my head up, I zero in on his soft, plump lower lip that begs to be nibbled on.

Holy hell, I'm in deep shit.

Chapter Thirteen

Trey

Maybe I'm the one with the concussion.

What the hell is wrong with me? This woman is everything I've written off in life. Well, that’s not entirely true, now that I've seen the truth. Even if she's not like all the other backstabbing, opportunistic women I've known, she's still a fucking mess.

A cute mess, if I'm honest with myself.

Even now I should be turned off by her red-rimmed eyes, black streaks of mascara down her soft cheeks, and bright red nose. But I'm not. She's adorable, not revolting.

This is bad news. T will have a heart attack if he even gets a whiff that I'm attracted to this woman who we're to protect with our lives. Which I will, without a doubt. Me thinking she's hot and wanting to feel that skin hidden beneath all those layers…

Do not think about her naked.

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