Page 14 of Fletch’s Protection

“I want you.”

I make a whimpering sound in my throat. “You don’t play fair.”

“Never said I would.”

The knocking starts up again. He growls, “Those fuckers.”

“Do they need you?”

He licks the column of my neck, making a sexy sound that causes my pussy to clench.

“Probably. They’re bad carpenters. I have to keep them from making the worst mistakes. They were going to use decking screws.”

“Oh. That’s not good. Do you need help ordering materials?”

His eyes warm, his fingers sliding deeper into my hair. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can do that.”

His mouth opens over mine, taking a greedy taste. The knocking gets louder.

“Fletch. Get your ass out here. Badger nailed his hand to the wall.”

“Oh fucking hell,” Fletch groans. He kisses my temple. “Duty calls.”

I’m grinning when he climbs off the bed because my god, the man is a sight. “How tall are you?”

“Six-four.” He chuckles, patting his rock-hard abs. “Two-seventy.”

My mouth is dry as I sit up on the bed. He grabs his jeans off the floor and slips them on. “Like what you see?”

“Very much.”

This seems to please him immensely. “That’s real good.”

I catch sight of his watch and a light flicks on inside my head. “Oh my god. Oh no! What time is it?”

“Three twenty-five.”

I’m scrambling off the bed, scrambling for my clothes when Fletch grabs me, making me hold still. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll take care of it.”

“Cassie was coming by work at three-thirty. What if Clark is there? What if Gary does something bad? I have to call her. But my purse is in the office trailer.”

Fletch pulls out his phone. “Calm down, sweetheart. Use this. I’ll take you to town to meet her.”

I’m so freaked out, I can barely remember Cassie’s number. “Please answer,” I whisper as Fletch helps me gather my clothing.

It goes to voicemail. “Cassie, it’s M, don’t go to Gary’s. I’m not there. Please call me immediately.”

I hang up and follow up with a text. “Cassie, call me. It’s M. I don’t have my phone. Please call me. This is urgent.”

Fletch steadies me as I drag on my jeans. Oh no! He cut my shirt. And my bra!

Calmly, he pulls his T-shirt down over my head. My mind is still spinning when he picks up my shoes, picks me up and carries me out the door.

“Is Badger bleeding out?” Fletch asks the club guy as he strides down the steps.

“No. But he ain’t happy.”