Page 122 of Blindside Sinner

He says it so certainly. As if I should already know.

“The renovation is going to take a while and I don't feel comfortable with you so far away anymore. So you're moving into the guest bedroom next to mine.”

“Beck, I?—”

I don’t get to say more than that before he throws the blanket off and stands. It’s enough to shut me up, for a moment at least. The sight of this man in his silk boxers makes me forget how to speak English.

“I'm not arguing with you about this, Sloan. It's non-negotiable.”

I want to tell him I’m not his little pawn to move around the chessboard as he pleases. It’s a principles thing, you know?

But there are a few obvious counterpoints there. Firstly, I’m not in a position to argue since I have nowhere else to go. Secondly, I’ll be safer here than I will in the guesthouse out back.

Third and most important is one simple little fact:I want to be near him so bad it hurts.

Yeah, I know. I’m a disaster.

“Fine,” I grit out. “But only until the repairs are done.”

“No promises, baby.” Satisfied, he sits back down on the edge of the bed, facing me. “I’m glad you weren’t home when that happened.”

“Me, too.”

He shakes his head and his jaw clenches tight enough the muscle there flexes. “When I came home and saw the cops…” I don’t know what he’s imagining in his mind right now, but there’s no mistaking the rage burning in his eyes. “I will kill anyone who hurts you.”

“I don’t know that anyone will hurt me badly enough to deserve that.”

“Not if I’m around. And I willalwaysbe around.”

“Sounds more like a threat than a promise.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

He’s very nonchalant for a guy who’s promising to commit murder on my behalf. Not that I expect it to come to that. Whoever’s doing this is going to see the new security measures and get bored. I’m not much to stalk, if I’m honest.

And I can’t imagine why anyone would bother. But Beck has my back and that means something to me. Maybe because I don’t have many people in my life who care if I live or die. Or maybe because this gives our relationship some substance beyond the sex.

That’s what I’d like to believe, at least.

So I sigh and relent. “Thank you.”

I can hardly believe that a month ago, we hated each other. I stood over his bed and yanked the covers off him and ordered him to get his lazy ass up. I wonder idly which one of us has changed more, him or me.

“What’s that smile about?” He tilts my chin up and kisses me softly.

“I was thinking about how far we’ve come.” But I shake my head. “Really, I’m just doing anything not to think about the mess in the apartment.”

Beck grins. “I can help distract you.”

His next kiss is the keeper, the one that makes my toes curl and my eyes roll back. It’s everything a kiss should be—warm, sweet, soft, then hard, demanding, delicious.

When he pulls back, he blows out a gentle little breath. “Let’s just stay in bed and forget everything else today.”

I shake my head. “No way, buster! How bad would it look on my day off if you miss practice? Coach Walker and Vivian would both have a coronary.”

“It would look like I want you to be taken care of.” He slides his body down the bed and brings me with him so we’re lying side by side again. His hands roam up and down, ending up on my ass, which he uses as leverage to pull me on top of him. “Like I want to take care of you.”

He threads one hand through my hair and urges me down for a kiss that could melt the paint off the wall over the bed.

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