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He might have fucking thought that, but not in the way she meant. Did she take a picture there of someone who didn’t want their photo taken?
But how the actual fuck would her would-be assailant know what was in there?
“Was this a folio of work photos, then?”
I go down in front of her again. Now, I run my fingers down her waist, looking, checking for injury beyond the bruise. Loving the little hiss of breath, the flutter of her tummy, the quiver of her thighs. And there, between them, at her apex, her panties grow a little damp. Fuck.
I want to touch. Sink my fingers into her. My tongue. My cock.
“N-no. Yes, I took them at the event, but they weren’t for it. Just some photos of people.”
But I don’t, I just look at her. “You shouldn’t have fucking been out there by yourself, because we don’t know what the fuck is going on or who’s behind this. Or why.”
“It’s my fault.”
I catch her face in my hand. “Nah, not that. Not ever fucking that.” I bring my face in close to hers. “And you’re okay.”
“Nicolo . . .”
Her lips part, and she sighs so tenderly. Her eyes so needy that I can’t fucking help myself. I brush mine against hers, and she whimpers softly.
“More, please, Nicolo.”
I can’t resist that.
My mouth trails kisses along her cheek, then down her throat. I bite down and suck on her skin, and her thready voice isn’t music, it’s porn.
She’s sweet, soft. She has so many treasures I want to uncover, pillage, and take as my own.
Avah moves her hands to my hair, down along my nape as her mouth opens for mine, her tongue there, ready to dance.
It’s a need, a fire, that flares. My cock is so fucking hard, balls tight, and I want nothing more than to take her.
She whimpers again, and this time, she slips her hands farther down under my jacket.
And Avah goes still.
So do I.
Because her hand isn’t on me
It’s touching something on me.
The gun in the holster.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get everything under control, putting the lid on the need. What the actual fuck am I thinking anyway? I know I’m going to have her. It’s as inevitable as breathing. But like this? No. I need to clear shit out of the way. I need to make sure she’s safe.
I promised Mia and Scarlett I’d do that, and I don’t think they figure safe means fucking Avah’s brains out.
Her soft mouth is still there, and we’re both breathing like we ran a marathon.
I pull away from her and sit next to her on the sofa. My hands, forearms on my thighs as I hang my head to breathe.
She knows I have guns, but I should have stripped this off earlier. I know how she’s teetering on the edge, how she feels about people in my line, how it doesn’t fit in with her dreams.
I’m not even thinking of a future with her, no matter how tempting the fucked up fantasy might be. That’s not for a man like me.
But I also need to protect her.
