Page 73 of Enticing the Enforcer
“What’s ridiculous is not covering every angle.” Madison pauses, then her voice softens with authority, “I think it would be best if we started toward New York today instead of tomorrow.”
“You want me to leave early?” Ingrid asks, incredulous. “Miss my last night with Jefferson?”
“How long do you think it’ll be before the fans and press show up outside his house?” Madison presses. “You and I both know it’s not secure. This is your safety we’re talking about.”
“I’m not leaving.” Ingrid’s tone hardens. “I’m not changing my plans. I’m not letting the fans win.”
There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re being foolish.”
“I’m being human,” Ingrid bites back.
“No, you’re dickmatized, and it’s going to destroy everything you’ve worked for.” Her voice turns harsh. “I can figure out a way to spin this and make sure it stays in control. I’ll have legal reach out to the guy he pushed, but I thought you’d learned your lesson about allowing men to control your life. Obviously, I was wrong.”
The call ends with a sharp beep.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I push the door open with my shoulder, setting the food on the bed with more force than I mean to. Her eyes fly to mine, wide and guilty.
“You heard…”
“Yeah, I heard.” I drag a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends like it’ll bleed off some of the frustration coiled in my chest. “Does she really think I’d do that? Put you at risk for a little publicity?”
“She’s just paranoid,” Ingrid says softly. Her voice is tired, worn around the edges. “We’ve been through a lot over the years,the good and the bad, the highs and the lows, and I know she wants the best for me.”
“And she doesn’t think I’m the best thing for you.” I don’t phrase it as a question.
Ingrid’s eyes flicker. “She’s protective.”
“You’ve got a lot of excuses for her.”
She sighs, shoulders folding inward. “It’s hard when someone comes into my life. I haven’t always made the best decisions, especially when it comes to men, and to be fair, she’s the one who has to pick up the pieces.”
I sit down beside her, the mattress dipping under my weight. My thigh presses against hers, grounding her, grounding me. “I’m not going to drop you, Ingrid.”
“I know.” The hesitation in her voice is so small most people wouldn’t catch it. But I do. I hate the sound of it. Then she adds, “She’s right about security, though.”
“Then call Marv,” I say immediately. “Let him sit outside the bedroom door if it makes you feel better.”
A weak smile tugs at her mouth. But it’s not the kind that reaches her eyes. It’s the kind that says she’s already made up her mind.
“This isn’t about you,” she promises, her tone low, steady, like she’s trying to make me believe it. “It’s about the reality of who I am and the life I lead. I can’t put you, or the rest of your house, at risk. I can’t open your neighborhood up to the well-meaning but often misguided Flock.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But I fucking hate it.
“You promise this isn’t about me?” I take her hand in mine, pressing a kiss to the back of it, lingering there. “Because I would never do anything to jeopardize your safety.”
“I know.”
For a moment, it’s just us, her hand in mine, the smell of shower steam still clinging to her hair, the warmth of her thighagainst me. But the bubble we built tonight is already thinning, stretching too tight. And deep down, I know it’s about to burst.
“If you’re leaving,” I murmur, sliding the tray of food out of the way, “then I’m spending every minute until you walk out that door worshipping you.”
Her lips part, and before she can answer, I’m on her, pressing her back into the pillows, kissing her like it’s the last oxygen I’ll ever get. She clings to me, nails dragging over my shoulders, pulling me closer, closer still, until there’s no space left between us.
It isn’t slow this time. It isn’t careful. It’s frantic–mouths colliding, hands tangling, teeth catching on lips like we’re both trying to memorize the taste of each other before it’s taken away. She gasps my name into the kiss, and I swallow it whole, my palms sliding down her sides, hers fisting in my shirt like she’ll never let go.
And she feels it too. I know she does. The urgency. The fear that every second is already slipping through our fingers. Because even as I kiss my way down her body, tasting, savoring, memorizing, I already feel it: that ache of missing her before she’s even gone.
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