Page 90 of It Should Have Been You

“Any regrets about trading city life?”

“It’s different here, but not a bad different.”

A dip of his chin and his eyes rake me head to foot as I reach my car. I hope he doesn’t do that again or I’ll need to sit. My legs feel a little shaky when he’s this close.

“Good to hear. And don’t take any shit from that lot.” I’m assuming he means The Kingsmen. “They’re not as scary as they look.”

“I figured,” I reply. “And you?” It’s out of my mouth before I can think about it. It must be the desperation I feel to know more about him, to understand what’s going on beneath the inscrutable exterior. My conversation with Ace only intrigued me to him more.

“Me?”

It’s not too late to back out.

And that’s exactly what I do.

Casting my eyes anywhere but on him, I say, “It’s nothing.”

I decide my handbag is a good place to hide, so I root in there for my car keys.

“Oh, no you don’t.” The heat of his hand on my arm sends a shockwave through my body.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing, honest.”

“It’s something. You’re just too scared to say it.”

“Ace said something about you using the services?” I immediately want to suck the words back in.

His brows furrow in confusion.

“Forget I brought it up. It’s none of my business what you do…” I lower my voice. “Or who you do it with.”

With one determined stride, he pins me to the car. My breath hitches, every molecule of air abandoning my lungs. His muscular form against mine is a wall of solid heat, his energy consuming. His proximity does more than just ignite my senses; it invades them, flooding me with the scent of him—a heady mix of leather, ink, and something inherently male. My pulse echoes in my ears, a rhythmic testament to the storm he’s stirring within me. Each beat is a silent acknowledgment of his raw power.

“And what do you think these services are?” The menacing curl of his mouth is nothing compared to the molten heat in his stare.

He’s going to make me say it, isn’t he?

“Women?” I squeak, losing my voice somewhere between his body and urge to squeeze my thighs together.

“I don’t pay for sex,” he clips, his hot breath sweeping a stray strand of hair from my face. “And we don’t deal in women.”

Theweand notthey, doesn’t go unnoticed.

I swallow as he steps back, leaving only cool air in his place. I right myself, pulling at my shirt.

“It’s not what you think,” he says, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away. “I do use the services, but not in the way you’re imagining.”

Ground, please open and swallow me.

“I’ve got a few guys that I trust on the payroll.”

“Can I ask what for?”

He seems to ponder it for a long second before answering. “Security. You know some of the women at the shelter come to live in the houses I own?”

Not how I was expecting this to go, but I nod.

“Security is for them. To make sure they don’t… get hassled.”

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