Page 60 of Wicked Duty
“I didn’t want to distract you before the next round of competition.”
“You could’ve been hurt. Or arrested!” I dig my nails into the seat. “What if you hadn’t come back last night?”
That final question hangs awkwardly between us. I sound like I care about him.
Maybe because you do.
I shove the smug inner voice into a dark corner of my mind. No one likes a know-it-all. Not even an imaginary one that only exists in your head.
“But I did come back, I wasn’t hurt, and those guys will never bother you again.” A muscle twitches in his jaw. “They’re in Kings custody now.”
“That’s not the point.” I slump against the backrest, blowing hair out of my face.
Wow. Just wow.
Callum Kavanagh is really something else.
No one’s ever had my back like this before.
Maybe I’m sick in the head—strike that, I’mdefinitelysick in the head—but I can’t deny my developing feelings for my babysitter. Not after he risked his life just so I could have a safe place to return to once this whole ordeal ends.
It’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me, ranking right up there with Nika and Darren’s rescue.
To be honest, I’m torn between bursting into tears and jumping Callum’s bones. Knowing me, I might do both simultaneously. Because every man wants a woman who sobs during their trip to pound town.
I murmur “thank you” as he pulls to a stop in the short procession. Ahead of us, contestants pile out onto the street.
When I reach for the door handle, Callum’s brow is lowered into a stern expression.
I want to smooth that little furrow above his nose with my finger.
“Remember what we discussed about safety?—”
“Hey, how are the plants?”
“What?”
“The plants. Did you get a chance to water them? Or at least say hello.”
“I, um, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about it.”
For the second time in twenty-four hours, I lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek. That shuts him up.
I linger near his lips, temptation streaking through me.
His delicious cedar and vanilla scent beguile my senses.
When we kissed last night, I told myself never again. But why not? If we’re both willing…
Callum’s still as a viper waiting to strike. His body language suggests that he won’t be the one to cross the line this time. Not even when his gaze drops to my lips, his eyelids fluttering to half-mast.
He wants this too.
That knowledge injects me with the confidence to cup his cheek and cover his mouth with mine.
In a blink, his big hand circles my neck and tugs, damn near pulling me into the front seat.
Our tongues and teeth clash, the tension coiling between us for the past several days taut as a tightrope. I clench the front of his shirt, and a soft moan slips from me as one of his hands rakes through my hair. He cradles the back of my skull in a firm but painless hold, allowing him to position my mouth exactly how he wants it. My fingers fumble to un-button his shirt?—
