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His gaze sharpens.
“Bull. I think you can get past one shitty fake out,” he growls, searching my eyes.
I honestly don’t know.
Can I?
Then his hand glides up my arm, peppering my skin with goosebumps. He stops on my shoulder and squeezes before trailing his way up my neck, tracing my jawline, my cheek with his fiery thumb.
“Delia, cut the crap. I’m here to protect you—and I don’t just mean from booze and dirty assholes up to no good. There’s more than a prissy little college brat under that innocent act. You let her out that night on the beach. It isn’t healthy to box her up. Let her out. Let yourself have somefun.” He’s so close, thundering in my ear, reminding me of the night I’ve tried so hard to forget.
My body betrays me as it always does with him.
Everything between my legs pulses.
“Chris...what are you up to?” I whisper. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“No more games, princess. You want to live it up for once? Then take my hand. Trust me. I’m gonna give you a chance to frolic your pretty little heart out.”
8
Glitter Dream (Chris)
I’ve never changed my mind about a chick before.
I don’t do much second-guessing in general.
In my line of work—and my life—lollygagging too long to sort your shit out could mean life or death.
So I’m not sure why I feel so fucking paralyzed by the time our plane touches down on the tarmac, and Delia shakes herself awake from a catnap.
My cock throbs every time my eyes climb her curves.
Any man would drool at a chance to shake her, front to back, that hair like sweet black licorice wrapped in his hand.
A goddamned virgin? How can she be?
I’m still struggling to believe it.
I also can’t believe I didn’t take the chance to remedy that my way—all thanks to one big unhappy family bound up in a warped marriage mistake.
Why is fate such a rotten bitch?
Once the plane pulls up to the gate and she’s rubbing her eyes, I put my hand on hers, squeezing her small fingers, warming her, offering her...I don’t even know.
If she was anyone else, I’d have already conquered her.
There’d be no mystery left, and my head would be grounded in serious shit—like the need to lay low with ruthless men gunning for every member of Enguard Tactical. I okayed the trip out of town with senior leadership, of course.
If anything, they thought more distance from California sounded wise. A few guys with wives and kids already blew town days ago, heading for remote cabins in Wyoming or up to Canada, places where cartel eyes are scarcer.
Instead, my mind stays glued far closer to home.
Delia is a landmine—and one wrong misstepwillblow my world apart, making her collateral damage.
“Rise and shine, princess,” I whisper, squeezing her hand tighter.
She gives me a shy, way-too-fuckable smile.
