Page 100 of Tapped

Ugh.

I do everything I can to ignore the wetness between my legs. “Answer me.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. Since I’m angry, I file that away for later because it’s sweet and tender and very unlike the man who is talking about tapping me carnally.

He sighs. “No. But if you want the whole truth, I very much enjoyed the technical tapping. I didn’t understand why the asshole was fucking up his life when he had someone like you. That was before I met you. Now I’m convinced he’s a masochist or something.”

“How long?” I whisper.

“Months.” His answer comes quickly, which is new and refreshing after spending years with Jeff when I questioned everything he did and said because I never got a clear answer.

I nibble on my lip as I stand here in his arms and process everything. I think about every conversation and text that I assumed were private.

“And now?”

He shakes his head. “No, Evie. I cut it off last week. You have to understand my position. You’re married to a man who was running drugs that are linked to one of the biggest cartels in Central America. Tapping you helped us keep track of him. We can take down those loads before they get to the streets, but I needed the asshole to keep moving shipments so I had time to expand my case. You were the roadblock that stopped that.”

“Can you blame me for being upset?” I huff. “This hasn’t exactly worked out well for me either.”

He tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear as his eyes roam my face. “It’s shit, I’ll give you that. But I wouldn’t change one thing.”

My cell vibrates on the counter next to us. I glance over to see my father’s name flash on the screen. “I need to get that.”

He doesn’t let me go and pulls me tighter. “Do you trust me?”

Shit. “I think it’s fair to say I shouldn’t trust anyone at this point.”

I feel it from my breasts to my sex when he pulls in a deep breath. My body is too attuned to this man for my own good.

“That’s not an answer,” he presses me. “Do you trust me?”

I tell him the truth. “I feel like an idiot, because, yes, I do. I actually hate myself a little for it.”

A satisfied smile settles on his lips. “Then let me take care of you.”

I say nothing.

“You want one thing—to escape. I want to give it to you. A private jet would make that easier. Call your dad and make that happen.”

My lips part as I suck in a breath of air.

He kisses the shock off my face.

Then he hands me my phone. “Private jet, baby. I’ll take care of the rest.”

* * *

Micah

I feelit before I open my eyes.

I glance at the time. We have a few minutes before we need to get up.

A morning wood is normal for me, but not like this.

This has happened ever since I laid eyes on Evita Litchfield in the flesh.

And now she’s in my bed.

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