Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I dropped by her place on the way home.”
“You did what?” he asked, turning on me suddenly.
“I think I set her up with one of the Wilson guys. I was playing matchmaker,” I said lamely.
Aiden frowned. It looked sexy on him. “Are you kidding me? You went out to that place again, when that’s where you got robbed?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think the Cupid would come back. Plus, Bud Orlov was with me.”
Aiden shook his head. “I can’t believe he’d go anywhere with you.”
“True that. I think we’re becoming friends.” I cleared my throat. “I figure the main Cupid left town, and I no longer need a bodyguard all day.” Bud was cramping my style, and he had more important things to do, anyway.
“No.” Aiden kept watching the board.
My chin dropped, my eyebrows lifted, and my hackles rose. “No? Just no?”
“Yeah. Just no.” He sounded way too relaxed.
I was tired, irritated about my stitches, and over my head with Nick’s murder case. “You don’t get to decide that.” I kicked him in the fleshy part of his calf. Well, the muscled back part, where there would be softness if he had any.
He turned faster than I could imagine, and I found myself up against the murder board, his arms on my hips, and my feet off the ground. Way off the ground. “Did you just kick me?” His nose was an inch from mine.
“Yes.” Then I brought one elbow down on his shoulder like he’d taught me. He didn’t so much as move. I tried again, frowning.
His frown beat mine, hands down. “That only works if you use both elbows, and if you do, you’ll pull your stitches out of your other shoulder.” His eyes blazed an unholy blue, but the hands on my hips remained relaxed. Gentle but firm. I tried to squirm away and didn’t gain an inch. He was too strong. “Right now, you’re keeping security with you. A dead body was dropped at your office, which isn’t a very rare occurrence for you.”
I stopped fighting him. “If I’m too much trouble for you, you need to tell me right now.”
Irritation sizzled in his eyes. “You’re too much trouble for anybody, but like I said, I’m not going anywhere. I am, however, going to take steps to keep you safe, whether you like it or not.”
I kind of liked it. But a girl had to have some pride. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah? Put your feet on the floor.”
Oh, he did not. I shoved him, wriggling, and ended up being pressed harder against the board, my legs spread around his hips, his erection against my core. Desire flashed through me, stealing my ability to think. “That’s not fair,” I breathed.
“What in the hell ever made you think I’d play fair?” He kissed me. Hard.
I kissed him back, not surprised when my shirt ended up over my head, somehow not hurting my shoulder as the cotton flew away. My bra followed—also discarded without pulling on my bandage.
How he could be so sexy and careful with me while holding me up was yet another mystery to the Irishman who held my heart. He kissed me again, taking me deep in that way he could, in control of us both. I pulled away to nip at his jaw, enjoying the stubble. “You’re too bossy,” I whispered.
“You love me bossy.”
He said the L-word. Neither of us had completely said it, and it wasn’t from fear. The words were just words and not enough for how I felt. There weren’t any words for how I felt. “Not all the time, I don’t.”
“Right now, you do.” He bit the shell of my ear, and fire shot down through my body, zinging in every direction. “You done fighting me?”
“Probably not.” I bit the tender area beneath his ear where his hard jaw met his neck.
His chuckle held threat. “Good.” He turned and walked out of the office and toward our bedroom, somehow unbuttoning my slacks and shoving them down on the way.
I kicked them to the floor, along with my panties, leaving me only in socks.
Then I reached for his shirt and pulled up, admiring how he ducked his head yet kept walking gracefully. I let the shirt fall to the floor. At this point, he’d usually toss me onto the bed and let me bounce, but this time, he gently laid me on the covers—protecting my shoulder. Then he moved down me, kissing and nipping, finding me ready and willing.
His mouth should come with a warning sign.
He went at me, mouth, tongue, and teeth, until I writhed on the bed, my legs over his shoulders. “Stop moving so much. If you pull those stitches, I’ll be pissed.”
I slapped the top of his head, and he bit my thigh. Hard. I yelped and clutched my fingers into the covers, knowing I’d wear that mark for a week. Good thing it wasn’t bikini season. Then he moved back to my core, driving me up, tossing me over the edge into an orgasm that had me gasping his name.