Page 43 of Enticing the Enforcer
I told her I wanted to see her, and fuck, she made it happen.
They exchange a look, an unspoken chorus of disbelief passing between them.
“Seriously.” I raise my hands. “Swear on it.”
I know what they think–that I’ve got her dickmatized or whatever word they’ll toss around later. Normally, I’d let them speculate, grin and lean into the legend. But not this time. For once, I’m playing it slow, trying not to burn it down before it even starts. And maybe–it feels insane to even think it–maybe it’s actually working.
She wants to see me.
Axel squints, tugging at the hoop in his eyebrow, his voice flat with suspicion. “So you mean, for once, youdidn’tsleep with a woman, and she rewards you with all this?”
“I guess so. I mean, I did–” I cut myself off, swallowing the memory. No way I’m telling them about the fingerbang during the victory party.
Reese smirks, but no one notices because the girls don’t give a shit, already falling into a discussion about Shelby getting off work, and Nadia figuring out her outfit and what she can wrangle Twyler into that isn’t black jeans and a hoodie.
And me? I just stand there in the middle of it all, pulse hammering, trying to act chill when the truth is I’ve never felt more unsteady.
Because this–her–feels bigger than anything I’ve let myself want before. And if it all goes south, I don’t know if I’ll recover. But I started this. I left her that note, and for some crazy reason, she responded. I’ve never been afraid to take the chance–to shoot my shot–and I’m sure as hell not going to pull back now.
14
Ingrid
The next weekmoves painfully slow, and I do what I do best–throw myself into work.
It’s not just the concerts, I work my way into some studio time to lay down the new songs I’ve been working on. We update the choreography to make sure the show stays fresh. I make a stop at the Children’s Hospital to sign autographs and hand out merch. That day is exhausting, and at the end of it, I talk to Jefferson for three hours, just for a slice of goodness in an otherwise tough day.
Our calls have started carrying a new weight–the intensity of our attraction to one another palpable through the line. I’m pretty sure we both get off the call frustrated, pent-up sexual tension bubbling at the surface. He’s kind, though. Understanding I can’t put something like that into the ether. It could ruin me, and in return, ruinus.
Whatever we are.
They’re flying down tonight, and I’d made sure they had a suite of rooms at the same hotel–it’s easier than shuttling themback and forth. Or that’s what I tell myself. I want him close. Even if I don’t get to see him as much as I want to, I want him nearby.
It’s late when their plane gets in, and I don’t expect to see him. My night’s been nothing but vocal warmups, emails, and a hot shower I never got around to taking.
So when Marv buzzes the suite and asks if I’m available for a visitor, I almost say no.
Almost.
The way he pauses, just a beat too long, makes my stomach twist.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” I ask.
Marv is like a big brother on steroids. Fiercely protective. Highly suspicious. The wall you have to get through to get to me. When he says, “Yep,” without a lecture, I know he approves.
“Send him up,” I say, even though my pulse is hammering and I have no business letting him see me like this.
The second the line goes dead, I bolt for the mirror. Casual mess–that’s what’s staring back at me. Ponytail that’s half-falling out, leggings that have seen better days, and a plain t-shirt that screamsI gave up hours ago.My eyeliner is smudged from rubbing my eyes too much. This is not the outfit you wear when six-foot-five of dangerous temptation shows up at your hotel door.
A knock.
Too soon. Way too soon.
I swallow hard, try to pat down my hair, and open the door.
There he is. Jefferson Parks. Dimple in his cheek, blond hair that feathers back from his annoyingly perfect, chiseled face, with eyes like polished steel cutting straight through me. He fills the doorway in a way that makes the whole suite feel small.
And then the nerves I’ve been carrying all week, the what-ifs, the should-I-even-do-this, evaporate.
