Page 4 of Second Goal

“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling the heat of his body so close to mine. I have to tilt my chin to look at him, and when I do, there’s no denying the hunger I see in his gaze.

He wants me.The thought makes me bold, and I place my hand on his chest and lean into him.

Time seems to stand still. Or maybe it passes too quickly. Quick enough that I don’t even notice when he presses my back against the doorframe, his large hands cupping my jaw, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck.

His eyes hold a question.

Do you want this?

Yes. Yes. Yes,my body cries out.

“Kiley.” My name is a husky sound on his lips, and his head dips lower, lips parting.

Kiss me, I want to beg.

My knees weaken and my fingers grip his shirt, ready to pop every button and give in to the desire that’s been building since the first day I met him.

But then my phone starts buzzing in my purse, and Blake pulls back, blinking and shaking his head like he just woke up and realized what he was about to do.

“Shit,” he mutters, stepping back. He rakes his fingers through his hair making it stand on end.

“Blake—”

“Goodnight, Kiley.”

I don’t have time to respond before he’s already across the hall and disappearing into his apartment, the yapping and barking of his rescues echoing through the door when he shuts it.

What the hell just happened?

My buzzing phone doesn’t give me a chance to process any of it.

With shaky fingers, I answer the unknown number as I walk into my apartment. “Hello?”

Ice replaces the heat I’d felt a moment before when a familiar voice answers.

A voice that reminds me of who I really am. Of the promises I made. Of the secrets I need to keep. Secrets that don’t - no,can’t- involve Blake Starowics.

Because if my brother ever finds out what I’ve done, or what I’m about to do, I’ll lose everything.

Chapter One

Blake

Six Months Later

I’m not stalking her.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I slow my jog and watch Kiley from the shadows as she hurries down the sidewalk, then disappears into a dark alleyway up ahead.

I swear to God, the girl seems to have been born without an ounce of self-preservation.

Pax, the six-month-old German Shepherd I recently brought home, whimpers in frustration as I slow to a walk. He tugs on the leash, wanting to continue our run.

“Easy, boy,” I say more to myself, trying to control the tightening in my chest. But I knew the moment I saw Kiley leave the apartment that she was up to something.

Her posture, the way she pulled the hood of her gray hoodie over her head, eyes darting around like she was sure she was being watched, I know she’s either in trouble, or headed straight into it.

It’s none of your fucking business, Starowics, that voice in my head warns. A voice that’s been battling with the intense need to protect the girl from the moment I found her two years ago.

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