Page 21 of Lethal Threat
Oh my god. I’m engaged tohim?
Tall. Dark. Sexy as can be, him. Thoughtful, gentle, confident him.
If the last few minutes have proven anything, it’s probably not going to be a burden to fall in love with the man again.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Theman is like a layer cake and the layers just keep getting better and better with every taste.
I shiver as I flash cold and hot.
“You sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Well enough to leave. Like they said. I can go. I just can’t… be alone.Yet.”
Babble much?
I gotta get my runaway tongue under control.
He nods once and I jerk my gaze away.
“It’s nice outside.” He dangles a carrot.
“Probably a lot nicer than in here,” I admit. “Feels like we’re breathing canned air.”
He chuckles and the corners of his eyes crease with his humor. Tiny lines form and tell me he’s smiled a lot. For a man that’s so serious, this surprises me.
The problem is, those little lines make him even more good looking.
Be still my heart. Dear god, he’s exceptional. From the tip of his dark, unruly hair to the long, strong legs.
My mouth starts to water, making me close my eyes. The urge to smack myself is real. But that would seriously hurt.
“We should go,” I announce, and open my eyes to find his brows raised.
“Your chariot awaits.” This time when he reaches for me, he touches my cheek.
My lips part. I inhale his clean cedar and fresh air scent.
His hand is warm. Rows of calluses tell me he’s not afraid of work.
I exhale sharply from the deliciousness of the contact. “Just go slow, okay? I’m a little wobbly.”
I swear it might just be from the power of his gravitationalfield.
He tugs me gently forward. “Copy that. Tell me if you need to stop.”
We’ve taken two steps when he halts and makes a low, grumbly sound. “Scratch that. We’re getting you a ride.”
“Hm?”
“A wheelchair.”
“No, no, it’s not necessary, really.”
“Look, you earned the royal treatment.” With that remark, a beautiful, arresting grin appears on his face and steals my argument.
Master Sergeant Strong disappears and I stand, glued to the floor, until he comes back with the wheelchair that I’d rather not ride in, but know that there’s no use arguing about.
With a sweep of his arm, he motions for me to sit. “Glad you didn’t push it.”
