Page 88 of What About Love

“He’ll honor your safeword,” Cap replied. “Isn’t that right, T? Tell her.”

“Without fail, my friend,” T called back.

He stopped inside the door. The hand riding the crest of her behind squeezed gently before he let her slide slowly down his front to her feet. He looked down at her, meeting warm green-flecked brown eyes that were full of trepidation, and knowing full well he was the cause of her unease.

“It’s time for you to go home, darlin’. The choice you have is how you get there. You can come with me and we can settle this thing between us once and for all, or give me your safeword and Cap will see you home from here.”

Silence greeted him as he counted to ten.

“Angie,” he added quietly. “I need an answer.”

Still, she said nothing, which prompted his lips to curl up in a pleased grin. “In our world, little bit, not using your safeword is as good as consent.” Scooping her up in his arms, he told their boss over his shoulder. “We may be late to work in the morning, Cap.”

“I’d be more surprised if you weren’t, bud.”

***

SQUINTING AGAINST THEsun shining cheerfully in through her window, Angie frowned. She always closed the blinds at night. Something wasn’t right.

The throbbing pain in her skull reminded her of the half dozen or more tequila shots she’d done, which more than likely explained her lapse in routine. All she knew was that she was regretting the glaringly bright omission this morning.

Draping her arm over her eyes to block, she tried to piece together the events of the evening before. Most of it was a blur after she left T at Rossi downtown. Then she remembered pouring out her heart to the girls as she became progressively more inebriated. She’d been two sheets to the wind and working on the third when an incredibly handsome man asked her to dance.

Arturo...

She strained to recall his last name but couldn’t. She hadn’t wanted to accept, but with the girls’ encouragement had taken his hand. He turned out to be extremely charming, tall, and strong, with an appealing French accent, and he could dance exceptionally well, making her feel adept, even with two left feet. But he didn’t make her heart flip-flop like T did. Though he had the same darkly exotic coloring and dominant air, it simply wasn’t the same.

She had fuzzy recollections of him mentioning he was born in Barcelona and lived in England, but couldn’t remember what he was doing all the way in south Texas or why on earth he sounded French. She hadn’t confused his firm hand on her ass or the way he commanded her body in the dance. That she hadn’t resisted, so soon after T’s possession bothered her. But having him trample on her heart yet again justified her uncharacteristic alcohol abuse and her sluttish behavior. She was actually proud of her restraint, considering.

She lifted both hands to her temples and rubbed, searching for an answer to how she got home. After the dancing, which included swaying, twirling, and a stunning dip—

In a flash, it came back, and as the pieces fell into place, she groaned.

After her dance partner gracefully bowed out, they’d argued right there in the middle of the lounge. About what was also vague, but she could imagine. The next thing she knew, she was over his shoulder and being carried out of the club like a caveman.

Check that. A caveman would have clubbed her over the head and dragged her out by the hair. Thank goodness he had evolved slightly beyond that. She huffed a laugh and regretted it instantly when her head throbbed.

“Patron headache?”

The rumbling voice sounding suddenly beside her sent her bolt upright in alarm, screaming at the top of her lungs. As she twisted away from the uninvited man in her bed, the sheet fell away and for the first time, she realized she was naked.

Clutching it close, she frantically wrapped it around her body as she glared down at a grinning T.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?”

“Tequila blackout as well, I see.”

Although his chuckle was soft, it made her head pound. Her scream and the sudden jerky motions didn’t help the internal hammering, either.

T lifted a hand and picked up a wavy lock of her hair from her shoulder, twisting it around his finger. It smacked of a newfound intimacy.

“Did we—?” She gestured between them, noticing that his chest was bare above the sheet that was bunched up at his waist. Was he stark naked as well? She held her breath, afraid of the answer.

“Yep, against the wall, and it was fucking fantastic.”

Angie hung her head, exhaling shakily. Good lord, she had no freakin’ control around the man. Next, she got angry.

“Again with the wall? Is that the only move you have?”

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