Page 14 of Splintered Security
“You were soft in my arms. Then you went rigid, and your breathing changed. Also, I’ve known you for a long time, and you’ve never been a good liar. I like that about you.”
Oh. Well, I like that. “You’re hot.”
His eyes melt, and his smile goes wide. “Why, thank you. Are you hitting on your soon-to-be husband?”
“No. I meant…” Gah. I meant it’s too warm, but saying that takes back the compliment, and his smile is worth my embarrassment. Almost.
“You meant what?”
“Time to rise and shine,” I sing-song and make to spring out of bed.
“Whoa.” A strong arm banding my shoulder hauls me back into position. My face is so darn close to Ren’s smiling one that my breath seizes in my lungs.
“What?” My voice comes out on a squeak.
He stares into my eyes from so close that I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. Hell, I’m wet thinking about him kissing me.
“Your eyes are good. How’s your head?”
Oh, he’s simply being protective Ren and checking on me. I close my eyes to break the connection and to stop the lust I’m sure is written all over my face.
“Nothing some water and Tylenol won’t fix.”
He gives me a squeeze, but says nothing. When my eyes open, he studies me for longer than I’m comfortable with. His face tips to mine, inching closer and closer, and I hold my breath.
Hoping.
Wishing.
Longing.
And my phone rings with the sound of a siren.
He stiffens before closing his eyes and retreating.
“What is that?” he demands as if my ringtone is offensive.
It is. I picked the absolute scariest one for Heath Giltenhouse. Not that I should intentionally spike my adrenaline and anxiety before dealing with him, but it seemed fitting.
“Heath.”
He looks over my head toward the bathroom where the device pauses only to resume immediately.
“It’s not going to stop.” I look behind me too, still ensconced in the protective curve of his body. “He’s not going to stop.”
I dare to look up in Ren’s face. His jaw is so tight there’s a bump protruding near his ear. His eyes are angry, and his body is rigid.
“You’re mad.” I make myself small, avoiding his eyes. Only to have my face tipped up.
“At him. Not at you. Never at you.” He drops his lips to my forehead, lingering there.
I breathe in deeply and exhale, relaxing in the safety he provides.
“Heath Giltenhouse, though… I’ll deal with him.”
7
twenty-four hours
