Page 62 of The Bad Wedding Date

“Charlotte,” Fraser mumbled against my lips, his beard scratching my skin with the perfect amount of friction that made my thoughts run wild until I imagined that same sensation between my thighs.

I released him quickly, gasping for breath. I scurried back until I was sitting up in his bed, wrapping my robe back around me so he couldn’t see anything that might have slipped free. I wanted to hide beneath the covers, scream at him to get out, and make a run for it when he was asleep sometime later, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the look on Fraser’s face. His hand came up to his mouth, and he ran his thumb over his bottom lip as he stared at me.

“I was dreaming,” I said quickly.

“We need to go.”

“What?” I frowned, resisting his attempt to pull me out of bed.

“We have to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucked up.”

He didn’t expand as he walked over to his wardrobe and pulled open a drawer inside it. He dug out some clothing and tossed them on the bed before he bent down, his knees cracking, and he pulled out a long drawer that looked to be filled with shoeboxes.

“What size shoe are you?”

“What the hell is going—”

“Size! Charlotte!” he barked. His urgency made me falter, and despite my need to argue and get answers, I complied.

“I’m a five.”

“Five,” he muttered to himself before he stood up again with a pair of black trainers in his hand and brought them towards me. “Put these on along with those clothes.”

I looked down at the side of me, seeing the black sports leggings and the plain grey sweater. My eyes drifted back up to him. “You just happen to have women’s clothing here in every size?”

“Yeah, I have shit here in case I need it. Not everyone we save has a place to go or clothes to change into. Now, get dressed.”

“And if I say no?”

“You’ll get dizzy and sick again from going over my shoulder.” He turned to walk away. “Don’t forget your phone and anything important like your house keys.”

Fraser tugged on the back of his own shirt and began to lift it over his head, revealing his tanned, toned muscles in the diluted light of the room, which was lit up only by the moonlight and the city of London beyond the window. His silver scars, barely visible yet intriguing.

The sight of him unbuckling his belt and bringing his trousers down, mixed with the dream I’d just come out of about him… well… I was a woman who only had so much control. If he heard my reaction, he didn’t acknowledge it, and by the time I’d stumbled onto my feet with my clothes and trainers in hand, Fraser had pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a white T-shirt that hugged his arms the way I wanted to.

This lust would be the end of me. I had to get it under control.

“What did you do, Fraser? I deserve to know if it’s something bad,” I said quietly.

He closed his eyes and brought his hands up against the wardrobe door, dropping his head to it as he blew out a breath. “I went after Matteo. Now they’re coming after me. I refuse to leave you here.”

“Did you… kill him?”

“You’ve two minutes left now. I hope you can dress as fast as you can jump to conclusions.”

He walked past me and left the bedroom, his shoulders strong and his face set to thunder.

I should have wanted to run away from him, notwithhim.

He’d just admitted to going after someone my family and I had known for years—whatever going after someone meant, I could only guess—and his murderous expression should have sent chills down my spine, and while they did appear, those chills weren’t from fear of him hurting me or taking me somewhere dangerous. Those chills were from him admitting that he couldn’t and wouldn’t leave me behind.

He thought I was worth saving.

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