Page 14 of Dead to Sin
“May the odds be ever in your favor.” I saluted her and turned toward the door, cringing at myself. What the fuck was that?
By the time I arrived back to the car, the locksmith had already successfully broken into it and cut the engine, so it took me no time at all to make it back home after changing the tire. What a fucking day.
I expected to find any number of things from Indie when I walked through the door, but what I didn’t expect was to find her curled up in a blanket asleep on my couch.
I kneeled next to her, in a trance. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her white-blonde hair fell around her face; she was a work of art. The feeling of having her in my space like this was something I wanted to bottle up and save for later. I resisted the urge to wake her. We had work, of course, but if she wanted to stay there all day, I would gladly let her.
Her eyes fluttered open, and just like that she’d caught me staring like a creeper.
A smile curved on her lips. “Creeper.”
Wow. Facepalm.
“I am not a creeper,” I lied. “I was just about to wake you,” I lied again.
“Sorry,” she said, her face a bit flushed. Was she embarrassed? She had no reason to be. Not with me. “I haven’t been sleeping much lately and sometimes when I’m stressed I just shut completely down.”
“Why are you stressed?”Let me fix it.
“No reason in particular,” she brushed me off. “Let’s get me home, it’s lunchtime now and I’m in desperate need of some spicy noods if I want to accomplish anything at all today.”
“I… spicy nudes?” What.
She snorted. “Noods as in noodles. Get your mind out of the gutter. And while you’re at it, maybe consider stocking your kitchen with something other than barley and wheatgrass.”
I scrunched my forehead in confusion. “I have neither of those things.”
“No. But you do have 72 grilled chicken breasts, 97 boiled eggs, and broccoli. Lots of broccoli.”
I glared at her. “You’re a smart ass.”
“I’m aware,” she deadpanned, standing and walking into the kitchen to pick up her shoes from where they sat by the back door.
I snatched them from her hand. “These are still sopping.”
“You want me to walk barefoot?”
“No,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her over my shoulder in one smooth movement.
She shrieked and smacked my ass. “Put me down.”
“I will,” I said, maneuvering my hand so that I could open the door.
She wiggled persistently like a little brat and I had the urge to bite her thigh. It wasrightthere.
And then she poked me in the side, tickling me. So I did.
“OW!” she yelped, then tilted her head and chomped down on the lower part of my lat.
Great. Now I had a boner.
“Watch what you do with that mouth,” I said, dropping her boots onto the pavement and opening the car door.
“Watch what you do with yours,” she retorted, releasing anumphas I plopped her onto the passenger seat.
I pulled the seat belt out and leaned across her to buckle her in. The heat of her body in such close proximity to mine—again—was crumbling the basically nonexistent restraint I had in place.
She stilled, and I don’t know why she was shocked. I also didn’t know what it was about her that made me want to take care of her so badly.
