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“I will be. So just shut up and kiss me.”
“I think I can handle that.”
One hand goes to my ass urging me against him, the other to thenape of my neck, holding me still as he lowers his head. No one kisses like Mick. His lips are soft and yet they exert a perfect, firm pressure; his tongue dips inside my mouth in gentle, demanding thrusts that are on the right side of aggression. If his goal was to distract me, then mission accomplished. By the time he lets me up for air, my skin is flushed and my chest is rippling on unsteady breaths.
“I like this,” he murmurs, his hand tracing the curve of my behind.
“My butt?”
“That goes without saying. I meant I like the skirt on you.”
“Thanks. It’s new.” The pencil design, I used to envy on Lexie, skims my lower body from waist to calf. It’s black and paired with a tapered pinstripe blouse. My hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and the diamond drops Mick bought me for Christmas dangle from my ears. “If you keep touching me like that I’m never going to leave.”
“That’s the idea.”
I smile against his lips. “I have to go.”
He holds me a moment longer before he reluctantly releases me.
In the foyer, I slip my stocking feet into a pair of high heels while Mick gets my coffee ready. Joining me again, he sets the travel cup down and helps me into my trench coat.
“I’ll see you later.” I rub my thumb over his lips, rubbing off the shiny residue of my gloss. “Go write. Finish your book and add author to your list of accomplishments.”
“I’ll be thinking about you the entire time. I love you, beauty.”
“Love you, too.” I reach down for my gym bag.
“I thought you might reconsider going to the gym this evening.”
“I made plans with Lex and Jord. If the press show, they show. I’m not going to let them dictate my activities.” But aware of his disapproval, I touch his arm, not wanting to leave on a sour note. “Think of the benefits.” I make my voice low and sultry. “After an hour of cardio and Pilates, I’ll be coming home to you all sweaty and limber.”
That coaxes a gleam in his eyes. “You play dirty but drive a hard bargain.”
“Hard being the operative word.”
“Keep that up and you won’t be going anywhere.”
I pucker my lips in an air-kiss and take the travel cup of coffee from him. “I’m going to be fine, Mick.”
He answers with a brusque nod and opens the front door. Stiles is waiting on the porch, under the awning. His posture is rigid and at attention. I look out at the flock of reporters and paparazzi.
Holy crap. Camera flashes light up the dreary morning; shooting off inrapid speed like a firing squad. Maybe I’m not as ready for this as I thought.
“Ignore them,” Mick says gruffly, then to Stiles: “Take care of her.”
Stiles flips open an umbrella and holds it over my head with one hand, his other takes my gym bag. Sheltering me with his large frame, we walk briskly through the buzz of questions and prods of microphones. I keep my head lowered and slide into the back of the SUV. Only when the door closes behind me do I breathe normally again.
“Whew.” I slack against the leather, glad to be insulated for a while and just blend in with the morning commuters. “Thanks for getting me through that, Stiles.”
His eyes, black as night, glance at mine in the rearview mirror. He’s not one for conversation. His demeanor is reserved and emotionless, perhaps by nature or by military training, I can’t say for sure. But in this moment, his hard, rugged features smooth out, briefly.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Peters.”
Jordyn’s assumption that Stiles runs deep might be so. He’s a complete mystery. I still don’t even know his first name. But there’s something about him, beyond his physical size, that’s solid and dependable.
During the quiet forty-minute drive, I sip sweet coffee and turn on my phone. There are several texts from previous colleagues who had either watched the interview or clips on the news. People I haven’t seen or spoken to in years, coming out of the woodwork. The only work acquaintance I had given a heads-up to before the show aired was Calista. I owed her that after keeping my relationship with Mick a secret during Dwayde’s case. To say she was shocked would be putting it mildly. I didn’t take offense. I would have been too, had the roles been reversed. If you don’t know Mick, just his celebrity image, you couldn’t imagine that he would be content living in a modest home in the suburbs with a woman who isn’t a supermodel.
There’s a message from Dr. Roland. I hadn’t expected to hear from her prior to our next appointment.I watched your interview. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing you in your element; owning your story with honesty and strength. I look forward to discussing how that was for you when we meet in a couple of weeks. Be well.
