Page 97 of Nixon’s Promise

I grabbed my phone, tapped the text icon, and saw Nixon’s name: Coming over. Be there in 5.

I checked the time and it was nearing on four in the morning.

Suddenly I wasn’t so tired. I glanced down at the flannel pj bottoms and ratty old tee I’d put on to sleep and flew out of bed. No way was I letting Nixon see me in dowdy, unsexy sleepwear. Not that I even owned anything sexy, but I could do better than flannel. I rummaged through my dresser and found a pair of drawstring jogger pants that hugged my hips and made my ass look better than it was and yanked on a camisole.

I tossed my old clothes in the hamper even though they were clean, having no time to fold them and put them away. I glanced in the mirror—I wouldn’t win Miss Kent County at the annual fair but I looked decent enough for company.

I jogged down the stairs, made my way to the back door, and saw headlights hit the side of the barn. I waited, because I was a woman living alone with two teenagers. Until I could see Nixon coming up the walkway, I wouldn’t open the door. When I saw him, I turned the deadbolt, then the useless lock that comes standard on all doorknobs, but didn’t open the door. I stood back and waited for Nixon to enter.

The door creaked open, Nix’s eyes landed on me and his lips curved up. A slow sexy smile spread across his face.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

His smile deepened and so did the lines around his eyes.

He looked good, even after a long day. A day he spent working, stressed out about stopping a terrorist plot to blow up a bridge, and he still looked damn hot. He was wearing a pair of cargo pants I’d never seen before and a faded plaid button up. It looked soft and worn, like he’d had it a good long while and it had been washed a hundred times. He was wearing his kickass boots that looked like they’d seen their fair share of action, too. He looked badass, but mostly he looked unharmed. So it wouldn’t have mattered what he was wearing, I was simply happy to see him.

Though, I did wonder what those boots would look like on my bedroom floor next to my clothes after he stripped them off of me.

“Damn, but I love it when you get that look,” he muttered.

“What look?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned and locked the door. When he was done with that, he took a few steps and gathered me in his arms. Finally with his mouth close by my ear, he whispered, “Let’s go to bed, McKenna.”

I couldn’t help the shiver that rocked my body at the way he said my name. It wasn’t a request. Oh, no, Nixon rarely asked, he commanded. Sometimes it was a gentle demand, sometimes it was not so gentle. But when his voice was rough and gravelly and he made a decree without permission, my body obeyed.

I nodded and he took my hand, leading me through the hall and to the stairs. Halfway up, I noticed my brother standing on the top landing looking down.

“Thought I heard something,” he said.

“Sorry. I tried not to wake you,” I told him, unsure why I felt like I was the teenager and he was the disapproving parent.

“Hey, Nix,” Zack greeted. “Cool you’re home.”

“Zack.”

“Glad you’re back. Night. See you in the morning.” Zack turned, shuffled the short distance to his room, and shut the door behind him.

“You have a talk with them?” Nixon asked.

“Um, no. Didn’t find an opening,” I admitted.

“Don’t think the talk is necessary. Though I’ll touch base with him later and make sure he’s cool.”

I had a feeling Nixon was right. Zack didn’t look like he was surprised to find Nixon in our house this late, he was only worried because he’d heard something. And Mandy liked Nixon. She was old enough to understand what was going on between us.

We entered my room and Nixon gently closed the door behind us and turned the lock on that door, too.

He toed off his boots, unbuttoned his shirt, and left it hanging open so I could only see a hint of his chest and abs. I was openly staring just like I was the first day I’d seen him without a shirt when I’d surprised him with sandwiches. I also didn’t care.

“Babe?”

“Huh?” I answered, but continued my perusal, focusing on the dips and valleys on his stomach.

“Get undressed.”

Definitely a command.