Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,63

you woke up,” a voice says. “The hurricane is almost over. You slept through most of it. We’ll be fine. I had the trusses reinforced when I moved in. The structure is sound, and we aren’t in a flood zone.”

His words are supposed to be reassuring, but storm or not, I’m not safe.

Especially from Pike. My fear only grows as he turns to face me, the blanket dropping from his muscular bare chest. His ab muscles flex with his every movement. I shiver again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

Pike raises the blanket over my body, mistaking my shivering for chills, but I can’t tolerate the confusion anymore. His comfort. I’d rather just have him punch me or stab me because him being kind to me somehow hurts worse than anything he can do to me physically.

There’s pity in Pike’s sleepy eyes, and I can’t take it. I kick off the blankets. “I may be smart and have a good memory and like books and numbers, and I’ve gone through some terrible shit, but don’t you ever mistake me for a pushover or someone waiting to be rescued. You don’t have to pity me or feel sorry for me. I got myself into this shit, and somehow, I’ll get myself out.”

Pike raises his eyebrows. “Trust me. Of all the thoughts I’ve had about you, I’ve never pitied you or felt sorry for you. Not once.”

“Then, why are you looking at me like that?” I shout.

“I was wondering why you ran out when you saw that family at the bar,” he says. His calm demeanor as he props himself up on his elbow only irritates me more.

I shrug. “I miss my family.”

“Why did you leave them in the first place?” he asks, as if it’s as simple as that. “Why did they go into hiding and you didn’t?”

I laugh and answer honestly. “It’s complicated, but I didn’t have a choice.”

He stares at me silently as if he understands when he has no fucking clue what I’ve been through or why. “I know how that feels,” he offers, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s sincere.

I rest my chin on my knees again. “I can’t imagine what you think of me,” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “The crazy girl who talks to her family even though they aren’t here. The one who won’t tell you answers you so desperately need.” I look to the ceiling and sigh. “The funny thing is that I understand. If I were you, I’d hate me, too. So, don’t look at me with pity because I don’t deserve your pity.”

Pike sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. The blanket falls further, revealing the crease between the globes of his ass and the deep V low on his waist. I avert my eyes back to the ceiling, so he doesn’t catch me staring.

“You think I pity you? I don’t fucking pity you, but I understand. I’ve done shit that I’ve had to do even though it was the wrong thing. Even though people got hurt.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe he has to explain this to me. His gaze rakes over my body. “I’ve thought about you a lot, Mic. Yeah, about the bullshit you’re putting me through, but about other things, too.” His gaze heats and so does my body. “About how your lips felt against mine when I kissed you. About how they would feel elsewhere on my body. About how you would taste, everywhere. About how I could make you scream my fucking name and forget everything else. Even if just for a little while. But have no doubt, Mic. Of all the thoughts I’ve had about you, never once have I thought you were a fucking pushover.”

After a lifetime of being mistaken for demure and shy because my passions lay elsewhere than in the company of others, this is the most erotic and sexually-charged thing anyone has ever said to me. So much so I tremble right down to where an ache begins to grow between my legs.

Attraction is the least logical feeling because it’s not a feeling. It’s a compulsion, but whatever it is, I’m compelled to want to be with Pike. To touch him and have him touch me. To explore each other further than his lips on mine. To feel him, his skin against mine.

I swallow hard as my heart begins to beat faster as my fantasy takes over my