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Or, in this case, have both sexy-as-sin men.

If you asked my parents… they would say I should.

Just like them.

9

RAIN

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Slade questioned after Jameson walked out of the office.

After proposing that Jameson stay with me instead of finding a new hotel, it took us a few minutes to figure out the logistics. Jameson needed to grab his stuff from the motel, so he took Slade’s car, which was now apparently dubbed the “turd mobile.” Then he’d meet us back here and we’d all go to dinner. I volunteered to go with Jameson since I knew my way around town better, but neither of them wanted me anywhere near that shady motel, and after I thought it over, I one hundred percent agreed.

Falling into the chair with a groan, I relaxed against the back, allowing my lids to flutter closed. After a terrible night's sleep, then the roller-coaster emotions today, a bubble bath and then heading straight to bed were definitely on the agenda after dinner.

“It’s not like I invited a stranger off the streets to stay with me. I know Jameson from when we worked together, not just today, and I’m positive the FBI wouldn’t allow someone with a violent background to become an agent. Plus, to be honest, the company will be nice. My house has felt empty lately, which makes me sad.”

“I know what you mean.” I arched a brow his way, and he rolled his eyes. “About the empty part, not the sad shit.”

My lips curled into a smirk. Of course, the big mean NFL player didn’t want to talk about things like being sad or lonely.

“Thank fuck for this job keeping me here most of the time,” he continued.

I nodded in agreement. For several seconds, we sat in comfortable silence, both of us lost in thought. When he spoke up, I jerked in the chair, startled out of my thought tornado about the creepy note from earlier.

“You never told me how your date went.”

Heels pressed against the floor, I swiveled the chair one way, then the other. “Not much to tell since it didn’t last very long, which was fine by me.”

“Why?”

I considered that for a second, debating which characteristic I should list for why I was okay that the date didn’t go well. “Besides his love affair with Excel?” Slade snorted a laugh. “And that he thought he could catch death from touching me after he learned about my unique career?”

A grumbled “Fucker” carried around the room, making me all warm and fuzzy.

“He was the wrong dominant,” I stated matter-of-factly.

This was fun. Relaxing even. Whatever caused this shift between Slade and me, I was here for it. I didn’t feel as tongue-tied, his overwhelming presence not nearly as heart-stopping as it was even this time yesterday.

“What does that mean? The wrong dominant.”

I slid my gaze to the couch, finding his green eyes watching me. “Controlling dominant instead of good dominant, like… well, like you, for example.”

“Me,” he scoffed. “Not so sure about the accuracy of that observation, Rain.”

“I know what I see, and you’re protective and intense. The type of dominant that makes people feel safe around you, not smothered or bossed around. Even though we don’t know each other that well—”

“We don’t?” he questioned, his tone conveying his confusion on that statement.

I rolled my eyes, not stopping to dive into that conversation. “Even though we don’t hang out or know each other outside of work, I know you’re the guy who would be protective, not jealous and controlling. My date last night ordered me a drink and wouldn’t take no for an answer after I told him I wouldn’t like it. In a situation like that, someone like you, the good dominant, would let your date order but also be ready to take over if needed, and then you’d go to any means necessary to make sure she got whatshewanted.”

“Have you been following me?” Slade narrowed his eyes, though the twitch of his lips said he wasn’t serious.

“What most men don’t understand is that most women want our guy to be in control but not control us. I’ve been there, had that, and have the emotional scars to prove it. Now I know what to look for.” I smiled brightly. “The good dominant.”

“Someone like me.”

My pulse fluttered at his deep, husky tone.

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