Page 89 of The Bad Wedding Date

It was why I’d hardly been home during the last few days, only ever stopping by to run into my apartment and gather fresh clothes and supplies while Fraser waited outside in his Aston Martin. He hated those moments when I went in without him, saying he should check everywhere first. I had to remind him on more than one occasion that we weren’t in aMission Impossiblefilm, and my house wasn’t going to blow up on entry just because he’d tried to choke a Michelin Star chef. Matteo may have been the lowest of the low, but a murderer he was not… surely?

Fraser rarely argued, just glowered, and shook his head as though I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.

It was Friday morning, and I had the entire weekend off work.

Even though we hadn’t discussed any plans for the next few days, I secretly hoped they would carry on much the same way they had for the previous.

Fraser wandered around the same hotel room we’d been in since Monday. According to him, it was better for us to remain there than stay at my place on account of him worrying endlessly about someone turning up unannounced.

Lying in that bed, watching him, I had a feeling in my chest I hadn’t felt in such a very long time: hope.

He sauntered back from the bathroom, still damp from his shower with a white towel hanging from his waist, showing off that perfectly structured ‘V’ I could happily get lost in. My eyes rose to his collection of tattoos, taking each one in, much the way I did at every opportunity I could get. Trying to imagine him without them never worked. They were as much a part of who he was as his hair and eyes.

As were the scars that littered his tanned body in several places.

I’d sometimes lie beside him and let my fingers trail over each one, but for some reason, I’d never let myself ask him what he’d done to get them, and he never offered up the information freely.

When he came to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching over to brush his hand down my face, I leaned into it, soaking in the fresh scent of his shower gel and closing my eyes for just a moment before I looked up at him.

“I have to go to work,” he said quietly, with a hint of regret.

“Now?”

He nodded. “Dean called. We’ve got something I can’t get out of.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Work.”

I laid a look on him. “I’m not allowed to ask anything else, am I?”

“Best you don’t.”

The first conversation we’d had about what he did came back to me, reminding me of the dangerous situations he sometimes put himself in.

“Can I at least know if it’s safe?”

He smirked. “Are you worried about me, Charlotte?”

“If you’re allowed to worry about my safety, it’s only fair that I’m allowed to worry about yours. This is a two-way street, fella.”

He dropped his hand into my lap and leaned closer, the muscles in his arm popping and making my heart beat faster. “You should know… I’m indestructible.” He winked before he pushed off the bed and made his way to the wardrobe to pull out some clothes.

Despite being his own boss, he always chose to dress smart for anything work-related, and he soon stood before me in a pair of dark grey fitted trousers and a white shirt, which he was buttoning at the cuffs when he looked back at me, still naked in his bed.

Words failed me.

Right here, looking up at him, I had no control over my feelings and reactions to him. Blood rushed through my veins. My toes tingled, my stomach cramped, and between my legs throbbed. That heart of mine pounded wildly, the attraction to this tall, strong, mysterious man I’d only known for a week, reminding me that I was falling too hard, too fast, with the wind in my hair and no parachute on my back.

This lust was like nothing I’d ever felt, and in a single moment, my need to devour him and take his body in my own disappeared, and in its place, fear arrived.

Fraser was a hazard to my heart—the one I’d spent years building a fort around that he’d somehow found a way to invade.

Sure, he had the potential to protect me, but I realised then as I looked up at him that he had the potential to destroy me, too.

“I think I should spend the night at my place,” I said, the words falling out of my mouth without thought like an idiot.

He didn’t respond, and his face gave nothing away, just his usual stoic neutrality that drove me insane when I wanted to see a physical reaction.

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