Page 121 of Tapped

I round the top of the stairs and move down the hall. “I’m not asking because I don’t give a shit. Why are we talking about this?”

He keeps on like I’m not here. “Zero, that’s how many. I have never once moved a refrigerator to clean behind it, but I did last night, and it wasn’t fucking dirty. But I did it for my wife and pretended it was the best idea on earth. We need a baby to focus on so I can stop spinning my wheels cleaning shit that isn’t dirty. My daughter isn’t here yet, and I’m exhausted.”

I turn the handle to my bedroom door, but stop in the doorway.

Evie is standing in the middle of my bedroom waiting for me.

And she’s proven to be a little klepto snoop.

I’ve lost all interest in everything happening in Miami as I stare at her. She’s wearing my high school football jersey. I haven’t seen it since I stuffed it in the back of a drawer after my senior season. I was thirty pounds lighter then—all of it muscle. It wouldn’t fit me now if I tried to pry it up one arm.

But Evie might as well be a flagpole the way it hangs on her small frame. It hits the middle of her bare thighs and hangs off one naked shoulder. I haven’t given one thought to that jersey in years.

The need to rip it to shreds to see what’s underneath overwhelms me.

“I’ve got to go,” I growl into the phone.

Evie’s smile screams that she’s proud of herself.

Brax continues to vent. “Landyn just texted me with a list for me to do as soon as I get home. It includes power washing the patio furniture, getting on my hands and knees to clean the baseboards, and washing the insides of the windows. And the only reason the outside of the windows isn’t on that list is because I did them last week. That’s just today’s list. There will be another one tomorrow. This shit isn’t going to stop until she goes into labor. And since there’s no way I’m allowing her to lift a finger,wemeansmein every nesting scenario she throws down. What I’m saying is, I’m your bitch until my daughter is born.”

Evie licks her lips as she twists a dark curl around her index finger.

“Great,” I mutter. “Don’t go home until you find Delcan Braim. If you could make that happen in the next forty-eight hours, I’d appreciate it.”

The name doesn’t affect her like it did in the beginning. But we’re across the country, and no one knows where she is.

She proves how much she isn’t affected when she grabs the hem of my jersey.

Bare legs, the bare pussy that whipped me into someone I do not recognize, and perfect tits are my answer to what’s beneath.

“I’m on it,” Brax says. “I pulled every agent available across the division to kick in. We’re doing surveillance day and night—”

“Perfect,” I bite. “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait,” he says as my old jersey hits the floor. Evie walks butt-naked and stops toe-to-toe in front of me, proving my reality is better than a dream. I barely make out what Brax is saying. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I actually called about. I think we have a lead where the money was going—”

“Don’t make me hang up on you, Cruz. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait. You need to hear this.”

My cock knows what I need right now, and it has nothing to do with what’s going on in Miami.

Her tits are too perfect and right in front of me. I reach up with my free hand and twist one.

She sucks in a deep breath and reaches for my waistband. Before I know it, my button fly is no longer buttoned, and my cock stands at attention, bobbing between us, proving magnetism is a real and physical thing.

He wants her, and no one but her.

Then she drops to her knees.

Brax starts talking about money and Panama and I don’t know what else. Maybe his laundry. My brain does not process. The only head that’s working on my body is the one on the end of my dick, and it’s never been happier as I watch it disappear between Evie’s perfect pink lips.

“Bye.” I barely get the word out on a groan, disconnect the call, and throw my phone across the room. If it lands in a million pieces, then I guess I won’t have to communicate with anyone ever again but the woman sucking me off.

Her type of communication is something I’ve decided I can’t live without.

I rip my shirt over my head and it lands on top of my old jersey.

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