Page 73 of Tapped

“You can do anything you want as long as you believe me.”

“Believing you would be like a fairy tale.” I look back to my medical kit and get what I need. “Tell me how you got this cut.”

“I was headbutted while trying to wrestle a gun away from someone.”

I stop what I’m doing. Damn. I could get lost in his blue eyes. “You had to wrestle a gun away from someone?”

He shrugs. “The guy who I questioned tonight. We arrested him, and he’s now in jail with your husband.”

The tips of his fingers dance on my hip as I work, causing the damn butterflies to dance in my stomach. “Besides association of guilt, what else did he do?”

“Aside from being a target on the case that your husband is tied to—”

“Stop,” I interrupt. My nerves have had it. The bad news Micah just delivered pushed me over the edge. “Can you please not call him that?”

One corner of his lips tip to the sky. “I’d love to not call him that.”

“Thank you.”

He starts over. “Aside from being a target on the case that the asshole who used to live here is tied to…” His words trail off and he lifts his brows in question.

“Much better. Thank you.”

Micah nods. “He also has an outstanding warrant for murder.”

My eyes widen. “That’s horrible.”

“That’s my job,” he amends. “After we arrested him on drug charges, we found out he had a warrant for homicide. You deal with death—I deal with drugs and murder. It is what it is.”

I turn back to his wound and finish cleaning it. “I’m trying to figure you out, Micah Emmett.”

“What you see is what you get.” His words brush my skin in a breath of sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla from the donut. I want to taste it on his tongue.

“I don’t think that’s the case. I think there’s a whole lot to you that you don’t allow anyone to see.” I peel open a butterfly bandage. “Don’t move.”

He doesn’t obey and moves. His fingers go from teasing my hips to a tight grip as he pulls me tight to him. I’m pressed to the bulge between his legs and have to pause to take in every ounce of his intensity. “You moved.”

“I did.” His grip on me tightens. “But I’m good now. I could stay like this all night.”

I pull in a breath and focus on my task. “You went to a funeral with me.”

“That’s not a question.”

“You moved again. I can’t put this bandage on when you’re talking.”

“Then stop bringing up shit you already know.”

I adhere one side of the bandage and pull his cut closed. I add another and toss the wrappers to the counter next to us. “You just said we both deal with death in our jobs. And you went to a funeral with me even though you knew it would be painful for you. I could tell it was.”

His voice is low and guttural. “Still not a question, Evie. Get to it.”

I run my bare finger lightly over the butterflies to make sure they’re smooth. “Keep that clean and dry.”

His hands part. One works its way up my back and the other lands on my ass. My hands land on his pecs. His body is rock hard, warm, and he smells clean and crisp. My senses are in overload. I press into his muscles as he holds me close. “You’ve yet to ask me a question.”

I give my head a small shake. “I changed my mind.”

His eyes narrow. “Is it about what your sister asked me? Because I swear, I’m clean.”

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