Page 95 of Drowning in Darkness

She pats my hand in a “bless your heart” gesture that makes me feel like I’m the stupid one. “It’s okay, James. I’m okay. I don’t need to be watched or controlled. I just need to be kept in the loop, to be treated with respect. That’s not too much to ask, right?”

“No.”

She nods and opens the truck door. I’m stumped by her astute observations. I consider myself a hard person to read, given how I’m successfully pretending to be the leader of a corrupt organization while hand-delivering men to the FBI’s doorstep.

She opens the tailgate and grabs as many packages as she can manage. I shake myself out of my stupor and go to help her. We work in silence to empty the truck, and she hums a quiet tune I can’t place as she puts away the groceries. I concentrate on opening the boxes and dividing them into purchases for her, and on the opposite end of the kitchen counter, purchases for me. It’s about an eighty/twenty split, and so far I’ve counted forty-one bottles of nail polish. Each shade makes my lips twitch, because red is red, green is green, and I’m aware I’m being a typical man.

She parks her hands on her hips once the food is tucked neatly away and nods at the final few packages. “They all for me?”

“Mostly. I’m looking for the internet booster I ordered.” I shake a box about the size of a cereal box. A few heavy things slide around, but none of them glass, so definitely not nail polish. This must be mine. I peel back the tape to reveal... Wait, what? My eyes lift to the innocent-looking woman before me as she pours herself a glass of soda. “You feeling a little frustrated, sweetheart?”

She snorts. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve found a way to deal with it.”

She spins to put the bottle of soda back in the refrigerator, clueless about my meaning. “Well, we can’t all go chopping wood to deal with our feelings.”

I predict a lot of wood chopping in my future. “And the shower just isn’t doing the job?”

She sprays a mouthful of brown soda over the counter with wide eyes. Yes, that’s right. I found your little message. She recovers and purses her lips. “I have no idea what you mean.”

I pick up one of the boxes inside the package. “Rechargeable. That’s handy. Eight speeds, five vibration rhythms, and the promise of G-spot stimulation. It certainly is a great all-rounder.”

Her breath rushes out, and she blinks at the box. “Fucking hell, Eleanor.”

“What has my sister got to do with this?”

“I forgot she promised to send something to, um... help with the frustration.”

I consider burning the box for a moment. If I have to suffer, so should she. Instead, I drop it back inside and fold over the flaps, forcing myself not to explore the rest of the offerings. I need to chop said wood. Now.

I turn on my heel and stalk toward the rear door.

A hand curls around my bicep. “James, wait. We should talk about the kiss.”

I growl low, spin, grab her wrists, and push her against the wall with them pinned above her head. Her pupils dilate. “You want to talk about the kiss?”

She licks her lips as if she’s imagining my mouth on hers. “I think we need to clear the air, yes.”

“Clear the air?”

Her chest rises and falls. “Yes.”

I lean in closer, letting my chest brush against her full breasts. “The air can’t be cleared, sweetheart. Everywhere I turn, your sweet berry scent lingers, and now I know you taste just as good as you smell. The air can’t be cleared until you leave.”

“If I’m that much of a nuisance, drive me into town and I’ll find my way back to Fox and Honor’s.”

She knows that’s not happening, and she knows that’s not what I meant. “Don’t act coy, Stephanie, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Then drop the uninterested act.”

I tilt my head. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I am asking for honesty.”

My jaw clenches. Walk away. Do it now. But she needs to know. She needs to fear me just a little, and this thing, whatever it is, will die a death, and then she can be free to find someone good.

“You sure about that?” Last chance.