“Oh my god, you asshole, you have a tracker on my car, don’t you?”
He didn’t respond, but crouched down next to the body.
I stepped up behind him, fisting the hair at his nape and yanking his head back until he was forced to look up at me. His expression gave nothing away, but I knew I was right—he’d put a tracker on my car.
Aiden and I had both become human lie detectors to each other. I could never get a lie past him—he could read my tells now, like I could read his.
“You’re not going anywhere important in that car that I couldn’t know about anyway. Anywhere important or dangerous you go is on my bike with me.”
“And that gives you a right to put a tracker on me?” I nearly yelled.
“I’m your bodyguard. Remember? I can do anything I want if it keeps my psycho girl safe.” He grinned. A full, happy grin as he looked up at me, my hand still fisted in his hair as I forced his head back more. “And you fucking like it,” he said, the words drawn out so slow and deep I nearly collapsed. “I could put a fucking tracker in your damn arm and you would like it.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the blunt words filled with heat. He wasn’t even trying to hide the deep carnal tone in his voice.
Part of me couldn’t believe this was happening.
The other part was trying to figure out if this was enough of an invitation to sink down onto his lap.
“No—no. I wouldn’t like it.” The words were half stuttered, but I got the lie out. I couldn’t comprehend the amount of fucked-up happiness I would have if Aiden suddenly became that obsessed with me.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through me. “Just like you know when I’m lying, I know when you’re lying, Psycho. Now, can I call for the guys to come help clean this up, or do you want to stay here and force me to my knees next to a dead body all night?”
I looked around, realizing I was alone with Aiden on his knees. “I mean... that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”
He stayed crouched but spun to face me. My hand dropped from his hair and he grabbed my hips, pulling himself up. His body slid against mine as he stood, the warmth of him seeping into me.
“You covered me with more blood,” I mumbled.
When he finally stood straight, he looked down, his hand running up my neck until his thumb pushed under my chin, making me look up at him now.
“You’ll live. Now answer me, are you okay?” he asked, the soft tone seeping in.
“I’m fine. A few scuffs and my clothes are now trashed.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“No. I hurt him first.”
He smiled—a slow, almost reverent thing—before his hands slid along the sides of my neck, warm and grounding, fingers trailing until they cupped my jaw. His touch was firm but careful, like he was committing this moment to memory as much as I was.
My heart stalled, then kicked back to life in a frantic stutter. My breath hitched as I tried—and failed—to look away, caught in Aiden’s gaze, feeling like I was something he was proud of, something he wanted to keep.
He didn’t speak right away. Only stood there, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw in slow, lazy strokes, as if he had all the time in the world. The heat of his skin sent a shiver down my spine, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth or the way his touch felt like a claim.
“Good,” he murmured, his voice rough.
For a second, I thought he might lean in. The space between us was so small, his body practically curled around mine, his breath warm against my cheek. His eyes were dark, heavy, lingering.
I could only imagine how damning this would look if one of the guys pulled up right now.
Then—a sigh. A slow, reluctant exhale, as if he were letting something go.
Not something—he was letting go of me.
“But if you can’t learn tonothit arteries, then you deserve the arterial spray,” he said, making me freeze.
“Excuse me?” I froze, my brain trying to catch up to the critical words.
