Page 191 of Rival Hero

“I thought you were getting coffee for me,” I whine.

“I did. I’ve been back for ten minutes. I let you sleep. But I need you now.”

“Another bjology?” I ask sleepily, wiping my face and flitting my eyes open.

His neck lengthens sharply, and his forehead creases. “Did you saybjology?”

“Yeah, like a blow job apology.”

“Makes sense. I’m a fan of the concept, but that’s not what I need you for.” One of his brows raises to a point. “At least not now.”

He’s so cheeky. Speaking of which, I sit up and lightly smack my cheeks to wake myself up.

“Coffee.” He points at the mug. “It’s getting cold.”

After thanking him, I take a few sips and shake off the sleepy haze.Fuck.I’m exhausted.

“Okay, stud muffin. Show me where you’re stuck with this shit.”

Over the next few minutes, we work out his issue and ID the last two girls. Shifting my attention off my failed attempts proves to be helpful. I get a rush from helping him, and the kick of excitement revs my engines.

Diving back into the FBI hack, I’m more determined than ever to figure out a new way in.There’s always a way.

After a while, Cal excuses himself to get our lunch delivery from the front desk. When he returns, he sets a chicken pita pocket in front of me. “Take a break. You need to eat.”

“I don’t need to eat. I need answers.”

He chuckles. I guess he realizes I’mmostlykidding by the maniacal quality of my voice.

Once he stops turning me on with his husky laugh, he unwraps my pita and holds it out. “Eat. I’m serious.”

Grabbing the pita, I dutifully take a bite.

My nips perk up when a breathy “good girl”passes his lips. Immediately, I take another bite with my eyes fixed on his in an unspoken invitation for more praise.

His tongue sneaks out, swiping his lips hypnotically. “You like that? The good girl thing?”

I dab at the corners of my mouth with my napkin. “Well, it’s hot to be taken care of, and I bet all girls with daddy issues enjoy a little praise mixed in with their degradation.”

“Daddy issues?” he asks, one side of his face lifted inquisitively.

Thrusting a thumb toward my chest, I clarify. “Child of divorce.”

“Tell me about your family,” he orders, asking and demanding simultaneously. “While we eat. Then back to work.”

I take another bite, swallow, and chase it with some water. “Well, let’s see. My mother passed away five years ago from complications from plastic surgery. We weren’t very close. She was a cold woman, always calculated and guarded. Not the least bit maternal. Although it was sad to lose her, it didn’t hit me as hard as it would hit most people.”

Having stopped eating to listen, he sits quietly. I hope my talk about my bitchy mother doesn’t upset him by reminding him of his sweet mother.

My gaze searches the ceiling as I decide what to share next. “Dad bounced when I was in elementary, and other than a few pop-in visits in my teens, I don’t have many memories of him.”

My stomach twists like someone jabbed their hand inside me to grab a fistful of my intestines. It’s not easy for me to talk about myself, but I’m determined to do this for Cal. He needs this… to know me.

AndIneed this. Iwanthim to know me.

My cheeks warm when I force a shaky breath and plant my vision on him. “I also have two younger sisters, Portia and Claire. They both live in Orlando with their families. They don’t know that I worked for the CIA. I thought it best to keep it from them for their safety. The last time I saw them was at my mother’s funeral. Before that, it was probably six or seven years earlier. I’ve never met my nieces and nephews.”

Cal’s hand goes to his chest, as if his heart aches from my confession.

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