Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security #2) - Marie James Page 0,74
your girl, and I know I’d be acting the same way.”
My girl. Fuck, if that doesn’t sound perfect.
“Thanks, man.”
“Meet at the office at eight.”
“See you then.”
Her reason for being here ends in less than a handful of hours, so I do the only thing I can think of. I climb back on the couch and wrap my arms back around her. After tonight is over, she’s going to have to decide if staying here is what she wants.
God, I hope everything works out.
Chapter 30
Whitney
My eyes follow the retreating form of Wren’s back through the peephole. The guard that was there the other day when we came up here is standing near the elevator, but even his presence doesn’t keep the chill from climbing up my spine.
I’m alone in Wren’s apartment for the first time, and no level of begging changed his mind about staying.
“Everything will be over after tonight,” he’d said before leaning down and kissing me like I was the only woman his lips have ever touched. “Then you can go home if you want.”
If you want.
His tone suggested he didn’t want me to leave, and I’ve sat on his couch trying to figure out a way to tell him that even though my home is three floors down, I can’t imagine going back there alone.
It’s not out of fear. I have no doubt that I’ll be safe if he tells me that Jones is in custody—which he assured me he’d text about the second it happened—and doesn’t have the ability to hurt me anymore. He wouldn’t put me in danger, but then what’s keeping me here? The warmth of his bed? The casual way he wraps his arms around me like he’s been doing it for years and not just days?
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to spend a moment away from him more than we would have to while we’re working, but that’s showing my hand too soon, isn’t it?
Does it make me clingy if he wants me here?
Simon bellows from down the hall, and I feel guilt wash over me for not paying more attention to him. Granted, he’s been curled up on Wren’s bed most of the day but finding him making circles in the guest bedroom right outside the bathroom door speaks of his neglect, as does the empty center spot in his food bowl. He’s not out of food, but apparently his ability to see any part of the metal of his dish is a personal affront which I remedy immediately.
“You poor thing,” I coo, scratching behind his ear for the four seconds he allows it. “So neglected.”
He meows his agreement before squatting down to nip the new food. It’s not to his liking so he turns to leave, heading toward Wren’s room once again while I turn toward the living room. I slept in the room last night with his hard body wrapped around me, but it seems a little invasive to curl up in there now.
He told me before leaving to make myself at home, but napping on his bed while he’s gone seems a little too personal, no matter how much time he spent playing my body like a seasoned guitarist last night.
The television holds no interest, but I settle on the couch anyway. Just a couple hours ago, I was content to lie with him and watch sharks swimming in chum-infested waters, and now nothing seems to be able to hold my attention. He’s working, but several texts have come through with memes and a funny video of a kitten climbing in and out of a wine glass, but those aren’t the texts I want. Those aren’t the things my body is urging me to send to him. How busy is he? Would he be angry or impressed if I sent naughty pictures touching myself like my brain is telling me is the best idea, right now?
Cold chills fraught with sexual need wash over my body.
Me: Do you have a throw blanket? It’s chilly on this couch all alone.
There. I smile, knowing I’ve told him I miss him while also allowing him to provide a way to comfort me in his absence.
Wren: Not much longer and I’ll heat that sexy little body of yours up.
I grin down at my phone.
Wren: Extra blankets in the closet.
His words heat me up to the point I start to believe I don’t need a blanket, but then the texts stop and the chill returns.