Page 43 of Pulse
It’s not just a daydream that ends with a sweet kiss. This is a setup for much,muchmore.
His eyes flash. His nostrils flare. His heartbeat is as rapid as mine.
I gulp a breath as he flexes his fingers against my waist.
The air between us ripples with tension. I’m pushed toward him and pulled away—trapped in a current of uncertainty that could go one of two ways.
I know the way I want it to go.
He searches my eyes as if looking for permission. I lift my chin.
Troy lowers his face toward mine ever so slowly. I hold my breath, desire pooling between my legs as he licks his lips.
Oh shit.
Troy’s going to do this.He’s really going to do this.
His hot breath dusts my lips, the heat of his mouth melting me from the inside out. I reach up, slipping my hand aroundthe back of his neck, and feel his warm skin. Bolts of heat shoot through my fingertips at the connection.I’ve wanted to touch him so many times. And now I get to …
I quiver, panting as he smirks—knowing he has me—and tugs me even tighter against him.
I smile, popping up on my toes to make contact … when his phone rings.
My lungs release my breath in one long, heavy draw. Troy releases me and backs away. I sag against the wall, frazzled and mind blown. Uncertainty impregnates the air between us.
He brings his phone to his ear, never breaking eye contact. “Castelli.”
His jaw sets as he listens to someone on the other end of the line. Finally, after what feels like forever, he rips his gaze away from mine and walks out of the room.
I almost yelp.
I almost yell, too.
Chapter Ten
Troy
I bring the spoon to my lips and taste the sauce.Not bad for canned garbage ingredients.
The only thing I got from my mother that’s worth a damn, aside from Travis, is her homemade sauce recipe. It came from her mother, my grandmother—a woman I never knew. In my mind, she was a robust, warm lady with a smile and a hug at the ready.
All the things my mother wasn’t.
I take a step back and survey the scene. Steam rises from the stove. The oven light is on, keeping the garlic bread warm. Bits of onion and garlic litter the countertop, and an empty sauce jar sits by the sink. It’s been a while since I cooked a decent meal, and by the looks of it, that’s obvious.
After the call that saved me from making a huge fucking mistake in the closet, I searched for Dahlia to apologize. I found her asleep on the bed. It was no surprise and was a relief, really. The woman had to be exhausted. She’s brave and strong, but the emotional toll of what happened today would weaken even the most seasoned person.
I pulled a blanket over her and came downstairs. Lincoln warned there was little to eat, and he was right, so I ordered a grocery delivery so we could have dinner.
Cooking took my mind off my fuckup in the closet. At least for a while.
I pick up my buzzing phone. “Castelli.”
“Hey, Troy. It’s Ford.”
I set the spoon on a saucer. “How are things?”
“Theo found three cameras inside Dahlia’s house, two of which had audio capabilities. He cut the power to the house before he went in, so whoever’s behind it doesn’t know we know.”
