Page 42 of Heston
Finally, at the brick building, she jerked the entry door’s steel handle and—Ouch!Darn near pulled her arm out of its socket. Locked? Heston locked her out? Damn him. Furious at being treated like a nobody, she raised her fist to give the door a good pounding when—
It opened inward and there he stood. “You finish your job interview?” he asked politely. Too politely, damn him. He thought she’d told Director Chase she’d work for him. Well, guess again.
“I’m not working for that pompous jerk. Come to think of it, how can your friends, that Isaiah dude and Mrs. Winchester, stand him? He’s an ass.”
“Most alpha males are asses, London. They’re driven to succeed and exceed. Can’t tolerate slackers. Won’t toleratecheaters. You’d be smart to accept his offer, and you’d get used to him. He’s one of the few decent bosses around.”
“I don’t care how decentyou thinkhe is.”
“No, of course you don’t,” Heston replied with something that sounded a lot like indifference in his tone. “Sorry, that just popped out. I won’t make assumptions again.”
London slapped both palms onto his chest and shoved him backward, tired of the uneasy truce between them. “For your information, I told him I’d think about it, that I’d call Monday and let him know my decision. But I lied. I’m not dumb enough to call him—ever. He thinks he’s hot shit. But he’s not and he’s certainly not the man I want to work with.”
Heston’s deep brown eyes blinked. Sadness glittered there. Didn’t he know she meant him? Did he really think she’d kiss him like she did in her camper if she’d planned to walk away again? Hadn’t they cleared the air between them? Didn’t he know she’d give anything to take back the rash decision she’d made that night? Didn’t he know anything?
She stabbed her index finger into the thick wall of his muscular chest. “I don’t want to work for the FBI. I’ve already got that t-shirt. It didn’t fit!” She stabbed him again.
Instead of fighting back, he calmly spread his palms to the wall behind him.
His complacency made her mad. “Who’s walking away now, Hes? It’s sure not me.”
“I’m giving you time and space,” he whispered. “I’m giving you enough room to make your own decision without my interference.”
“I don’t need time and space!” By this time, they were nearly flush against each other, yet he hadn’t taken hold of her like he used to. Hadn’t tipped his head to kiss her. Wasn’t acting friendly. He looked sad.Not acceptable.
London flung herself at him, just wrapped her arms around his stubborn neck and her long legs around his waist. He was too good for her. Too smart and so much better trained, the whole enchilada. Damn it, she wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him.
He didn’t make a sound, didn’t even say,‘Oomph,’when her body hit his. But his hands automatically caught two big handfuls of her ass. That was encouraging.
She took a frantic, deep, wet taste of his mouth, bound and determined to light this man’s fire again. “We’ve both made mistakes, Hes,” she mumbled against his lips. “I hurt you, I know. I’ve hurt you a hundred times worse than you’ve ever hurt me. I get that. I’m sorry.” She peppered his face and neck with more kisses. More determination.
At last, “I’m trying,” murmured out of him.
Sill not good enough.
Returning to his mouth, she licked his lips, then bit the bottom one. Licked it again in case she’d bitten too hard. Wormed her tongue into his mouth and combed her fingers up his neck and into his hair. They were both panting hot, short breaths into each other’s mouths. His body had changed from cool, calm, and collected, into a coiled, deadly snake who might bite her.
Bring it on.
Switching tactics, London attacked his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, needing to be skin-on-skin with this man. Her man. “I haven’t been with anyone since I left Killeen,” she told him without preamble.
“I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he replied huskily. But there was still a heavy hint of sadness in his tone.
London tipped back at his confession. “You haven’t slept with anyone else? Really? But…”
Heston was a god among men. He was so good-looking. Bronzed by his lineage. Muscled by the physical demands of his vocation. Short, shiny black hair, always trimmed and neat. Even the five o’clock shadowing his chin was sexy. His body was honed into a chiseled, lean, mean fighting machine. He was smart and honest and— “What’s wrong with women in Virginia?”
“None of them are you,” he whispered.
London blinked then. His pain at her leaving him was still fresh. She’d been off thinking she was saving the world when all this time, she should’ve been saving him. Seeking his forgiveness. Healing the pain her impulsive decision had caused. Keeping him safe and protected. The world had never really needed her, but he did. And she needed him.
“I never stopped loving you,” she choked, her fingers once again running over his head, into his hair, petting him like she should’ve been doing all those missed years. “But if you can’t forgive me—”
“Can you forgive me? I’m the one who started this mess.”
“No, you’re not. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Let’s agree to disagree. Can we talk more about this later because…?” Heston released one hand from her backside to palm the door behind them open. It bounced against the inner wall. He didn’t seem to care, just took firm hold of her ass again with both hands, kicked the door shut behind them with his boot, and plunged them into darkness.
