Page 18 of Avenging Jessie
He smiled faintly, and her pulse kicked. “You love it.”
It was just an offhanded remark, but of course, it wasn’t. The truth was, she hated being bossed around, especially after her time with Brewer.
Yet, coming from Spence, it wasn’t so bad.
And didn’t that scare the shit out of her? The ugly truth was, she did love it. His attention. His protection.
Him.
No, no, no. She could never love anyone again. Ever. They would only end up being used against her.
And that was the real danger.
Eight
Spence
The homey scentsof vanilla and fresh bread clung to Spence’s clothes as he returned to the apartment. The fight with Jessie had left him on edge.
He stuck the waxy bag of pastries under an arm and balanced a coffee tray as he unlocked the apartment door. At least the safehouse was still clean. No one had come after them here.
Yet.
He used a foot to nudge the door shut behind him. From the back of the small apartment came the faint sound of the shower running.
He paused.
For a split second, the image of Jessie behind that thin bathroom door hit him hard—water cascading down toned curves, hair slicked back, eyes closed, lips parted. He swore under his breath and shook it off, zeroing in on the small kitchenette. Coffee. Food.Act normal.
In the cramped space, Spence lined the pastries on the chipped counter like he was setting out a peace offering. He tried not to imagine what Jessie would look like walking into this scene. Whattheymight look like, sitting across from each other at the table. Sharing breakfast like it was normal.
Like they were normal.
The faucet in the kitchenette dripped once, twice. He yanked it tighter. One cupboard stuck open no matter how many times he slammed it shut. He stared at it for a long second, jaw tight, then turned away.
Every piece of him wanted to knock on the bathroom door. Not for anything reckless—just to hear her voice. Make sure she was still here. Still safe.
He knew she was, but… Too many things were pretending to be okay.
She wasn’t okay. He wasn’t, either.
Not when all he could think about was the woman in the next room, wrapped in steam, and what it would feel like to join her.
Don’t go there.
She was already too deep under his skin.
And damn, he wanted her to bury herself even deeper.
He took a seat at the small table. Checked the time. Got up and grabbed his laptop. It felt too weird, too rude, to eat without her, but he was restless, and if he couldn’t stuff his face, he needed a distraction that would keep his mind off her.
Returning to the table, he resumed his seat. The screen blinked to life. He scanned the feeds—drone chatter, darknet threads, a few flagged updates from Flynn. Lines of code rolled down it like rain, and Spence welcomed the familiar rhythm. Data calmed him. People, not so much.
But it was the notification in his burner inbox that made his pulse skip a beat.
Subject line: Re: Looking for V.
Sender: 609_station
