Page 6 of Splintered Security
Most days.
That said, I like the team I’ve built at Queen City. They’re decent men, even if they’re a bit whiny at times. You can always tell the ones who’ve had an easy life.
Me: Check in.
One by one, they do. All but David Rosen. I’ll keep an eye out for his message.
With each response, I confirm receipt and mention I’ll call tomorrow. I’m no one’s priority tonight… and I shouldn’t be. But they are mine. Myteam. My men.
Besides, I have to keep my mind off the stunning girl I knew growing up. Correction, she’s a woman now. A very naked woman who’s in my shower.
I’m a grown-ass man, and my dick is acting like it’s at a middle school dance encountering cleavage for the first time.
Leaning back in my chair, I hiss. My back feels mangled and swollen. Sleep is going to suck tonight. And that’s assuming the every-hour wake-ups to make sure Anni doesn’t have a concussion are fine.
When the shower flips off, my spine straightens. I’m on high alert, but nothing prepares me for a makeup-free Annika Garver standing in the doorway to my office wearing my clothes. She’s gorgeous. And… she’s nervous.
Her shoulders roll in a bit as she dips her head. Her fingers wring and dance through each other before she makes a point of dropping them and standing taller.
Taller at five-foot-four is just cute, but so be it.
I lean back in my chair, immediately regretting it, and instead stand behind my desk.
“Annika.”
“Lorenzo.”
“Can’t say I ever expected you to be in my house wearing my clothes.”
“Harsh. But not unexpected. Don’t take out your anger or grief at August on me. I don’t deserve that.”
I swallow hard. We don’t talk about her brother. Or we haven’t in years.
“You’re right. You don’t deserve that.”
Her shoulders visibly sink as she pads into the room, her violet-hued toenails at odds with the beiges and washed-out colors that surround us.
Black hair hangs wet down her back, leaving damp spots on the white tee. I can’t even see my boxers since the shirt hangs nearly to her knees. Dear God, please let her be wearing them. I’m using all the discipline I possess around her as it is.
“I— Well, I, um…” She wanders around the space picking up and putting down tchotchkes, staring at pictures, and touching damn near everything. She makes no move to look at me.
When the pause has gone past comfortable into that muddy ground near awkward, I leave my position at the desk and stand right in front of her, using a finger to tip her chin up to me.
She sucks in a breath. I suspect I do too. Sky blue eyes stare back at me from beneath black eyelashes. Slight freckles dust her button nose. Pillowy pink lips taunt me. Never more so than when she bites the bottom one, like she’s doing now.
I stare up at the ceiling, fighting my dick for the second time in twenty minutes, and conjure images of dead bodies in the morgue to reduce the heat below my belt.
“Anni.” It comes out on a gravelly whisper. “What’s going on? You haven’t been tongue tied in front of me since you were twelve. You certainly never stuttered. If I remember correctly—” I don’t finish because her words come rushing out.
“I’m in trouble.” Her eyes drop to the carpet. “It’s serious. Ineed… Well, I need help and I don’t know who else to turn to. I know we?—”
She exhales a huge sigh and plays with her fingers between us. Bad idea. They’re way too close to my dick.
“I know we didn’t leave things on the best terms, but I don’t know who else to go to.”
This time I don’t use my finger to lift her chin to me. I palm her cheek and lift her face, holding her gaze fixed on mine. “Tell me everything.”
She tries to look away, but I refuse. “Annika. Tell me.”
