Page 53 of Concealed

There isn’t a single part of this guy’s body that isn’t sexy.

“What makes you so sure?” he asks. “The pieces are coming together, but we have a shit ton of work ahead of us, and absolutely no guarantee that it will lead anywhere. And if it does, there’s always the chance it won’t stick.”

His voice is so defeated, and I hate it.

I wait until he’s facing me again, and then say with more certainty than I’ve ever felt in my life, “Because you won’t give up on those girls until you win, no matter how long it takes. You care, and that matters. It means something to have a man like you fighting for them. You don’t lose, Wyatt.”

“Not when I can help it,” he agrees. “It’s nice to come home to someone who believes in me, especially after a shitty day.”

“I didn’t sleep last night,” I blurt out.

I’m not going to be able to act “normal,” that much is certain. All I can do is act like me while figuring out who that person is at the same time.

Something tells me that whatever I can give is going to be exactly enough for this man.

“Were you scared?” He’s frowning and probably chastising himself for not being here to protect me from the monsters who reside in my head.

I anchor myself to the countertop, half to hold myself up and half to prevent myself from inappropriately hugging him.

“No. I mean, kind of. I always have… things in the back of my mind. But I was thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

He joins my side of the counter and clearly doesn’t have the same issues with the touch barrier that I do. His big hand snakes out to rest on my hip, the heat of it immediately searing me as though his touch will be branded on me forever.

In some ways, it will.

This is a time in my life I’ll never forget.

I’m slowly but surely finding myself again.

And Rebecca Vance would shoot her shot.

She wouldn’t wait for the guy to make the first move, especially a guy who so clearly wants her despite all the darkness in her life. She would see what she wanted – him – and she would take it.

Except my body isn’t listening to very clear directions from my brain – grab the hot guy and kiss the hell out of him – and decides on its own to keep me frozen in place.

Shit.

Wyatt must be used to long pauses in our conversations because he gives me the time that I need to think without acting weird about it. But he also doesn’t move his hand, which makes it both easier and harder to put together a coherent thought.

“You already know I’ll wait you out,” Wyatt says, making me wonder if all cops are telepathic. “I’m willing to wait even longer than usual because this is an answer I care about an awful lot.”

The sound of my laughter is starting to become familiar instead of foreign – thanks to him. I am so grateful that I crashed into his life because he’s exactly what I need.

“I was thinking that I’m not sure I want to be friends with you,” I whisper, “Or just your roommate. But I don’t know exactly what I want to be. I don’t want to be your girlfriend. But I want…”

His unrelenting stare penetrates straight into my soul and makes me squirm. “Mmhm?”

“You. I want you.”

Despite our false starts, he dips his head to kiss me again just as his phone rings. When he pulls back, the scowl on his face is so comedic that I almost forget to be annoyed.

“It’s my work phone. I have to get it.” His sigh is so loud, it must echo in Arizona.

“I know. It’s okay.”

“I’ll take the call, have a shower, and then we can continue this conversation, okay?”

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