Page 52 of His to Protect

Because we were. Together. At least for now, and if she continued to make me feel the way I had every minute since I’d met her, I was hoping it was for a lot longer than just a brief moment in time.

A taxi pulled into the run-down dealership we’d found in East Chicago. I hadn’t wanted to go too far into the city with the car, and I figured that if she’d come up this direction from Kentucky, she would have been on a similar route. I was hoping that once we sold her vehicle at some dumpy dealership willing to give us half what the car was worth, it’d make it that much more difficult for Kevin to find her.

So we ditched the car, but needed a way to get to the Loop in downtown Chicago, where we would catch a train to Milwaukee at Union Station.

It was only three o’clock, and the last train to Milwaukee didn’t leave until eight at night, giving us some time to kill in the city before we headed to our next destination. We could have rushed it and tried to catch an earlier train, but I also wanted to take some time—even if it was just a few hours—to give Trina a break from the worry and fear I knew she was feeling.

“So,” I said, dropping my hand from her shoulder to grab her hand. I started walking toward the waiting taxi and looked down at her. “Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to see in Chicago?”

She shrugged, one side of her upper lip curling. “Not really. I’ve always pictured it as a big, dirty, cement jungle.”

I barked out a laugh and pulled her against me. She almost tripped, and her free hand landed on my stomach.

“What?” she asked, eyes wide and looking up at me.

The sun hit her eyes, making her light-brown eyes sparkle like they were spun from gold.

“Chicago’s not ugly.” I pushed down the burgeoning lust I felt every time she smiled at me and opened the rear door of the taxi for her. “It’s beautiful and perfect. The best city anywhere in the world.”

“Even better than Latham Hills?” Her eyes lit with wonder and amusement.

God, I loved that she loved my city.

“Trust me,” I told her, leaning in and brushing my lips against hers. I didn’t know if she felt the same need and desire as me, but I hadn’t been able to keep my lips off her today. Small, teasing brushes of my lips against her skin, anywhere I could taste her. She hadn’t pushed me away, though. “Let me prove you wrong.”

She squeezed my hand with hers and leaned in, our noses brushing against each other. “I do trust you,” she finally whispered, her lips lingering just a breath away from my own.

And it was that moment, with the taxi pulling into Chicago’s rush-hour afternoon traffic—because it was always rush hour here—and her golden eyes fixed on mine, letting me see the pure sincerity in her four simple words, that I completely fell for her.

—

The outside of Reglatti’s Pizzeria was less than impressive, but it was the location and food inside that kept the small restaurant crammed full at almost all hours of the day. Just a half block south of Wrigley Field on Ashland Avenue, Reglatti’s was famous to local Chicagoans for their delicious, deep-dish pizza, as well as their own form of Sicilian pizza that had an exceptionally light crust. Just before four on Monday, the place had a steady stream of customers and very few tables available, although there wasn’t yet a line.

Give it an hour. Even with the Chicago Cubs playing an away game, there would still be a line of customers wrapped around the corner of the building waiting to eat a Monday-night slice of pie while they watched their beloved Cubs on the big screens scattered throughout the restaurant and cheered them on.

A twinge of jealousy hit me in the chest while I glanced around the packed restaurant. This was what I wanted Fireside Grill to become. A beloved icon in a city with a fanatic customer base in a small area of Detroit where people took pride in their community. I just had to figure out how to bring them in.

I shook off the thought and focused on Trina.

She took another bite of her first slice of deep-dish and closed her eyes.

“So what do you think?”

She groaned, swallowing the large bite. I’d been fighting to keep my dick from going hard the entire meal, yet hadn’t wanted to stop the quiet, pleased sounds she made.

Grinning, she wiped her lips with a napkin. “It’s not too bad.”

I glanced down at our almost fully devoured pie, then back at her.

“You’ve eaten twice as much as I have.”

Her cheeks paled and I pressed my lips together, watching as the fear and embarrassment flooded her features.

I swore. If I ever ran into Kevin MorgensonIII, I was going to wring his fucking wiry neck.

She opened her mouth and I knew an apology was on the tip of her tongue. I cut her off.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” I said with a quiet voice, biting back my desire to rage like an animal. “I was kidding. Eat however much you freaking want, Trina.”

---