Bulletproof - Xavier Neal Page 0,26
for all romance languages, meaning given just a few more minutes I could probably translate what you just said word for word, but won’t because the context clues give it away.”
Fuck, I’ve never heard smart and scolding simultaneously sound sexy.
“And while you may have been born basic, it doesn’t mean you have to stay that way.”
Cheyenne chuckles under her breath, a sound barely heard because of the humming tool.
“Chewing gum has been known to not only relieve stress – something I have plenty of daily – but also improve memory-related tasks and concentration.”
“Another way you nurture your brain.”
“You should always take care of what you love.”
“We can agree on that.”
Blake blushes as if my statement was taken in a different context.
A context I wouldn’t object to if it was.
Again.
In pretty much any other scenario that isn’t this one.
“Your items are clear, but protocol dictates they’re left behind to be properly disposed of,” Cheyenne casually informs. “Hope you’ve saved everything you needed to the cloud.”
“More or less,” my target mutters under her breath.
“Good. Now, get naked.”
“Not with the retired underwear model in the room.”
This time it’s my face that flushes.
“He’s gotta go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Willing my dick to stay dormant, I declare a little too possessively, “You are not to be out of my sight.”
“Is that because you don’t want her out of your sight?” Cheyenne instantly teases.
I sidestep answering that by stating, “Protocol-”
“Oh, I am so over that fucking word, already,” Blake grumps at the same time she rips off her lab coat.
“Just turn around then,” Cheyenne suggests with a crooked grin. “Keep your eyes on the hall but your ears on her.”
My hesitation is beyond obvious.
“Compromise,” Cheyenne urges while spreading the jacket on the mattress. “You’re probably wasting time you don’t have.”
Surrendering to the truth of that statement spins me around to face the opposite direction.
While I’m thankful the situation doesn’t suddenly become completely silent, I can’t say I’m thoroughly comfortable with what hits my ears.
Cheyenne almost immediately inquires, “What the hell is that?”
“Nifty, right?”
Curiosity commands that I turn around to see what they’re talking about, yet respect demands I don’t move a muscle.
There’s an impressed hum out of our laundry lady. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Like what?
Does she have a third nipple?
Is that even humanly possible?
What would be the point in that, though?
What would make it “nifty”?
And if it was, I feel like Blake would’ve given a very long-winded, informative explanation for why she had more body parts than the average person.
“I designed it myself,” Blake announces pride pumping through her voice. “It’s one of a kind.”
Alright, so no extra nipples, but maybe a nipple ring?
Like a nipple ring that lights up and doubles as a flashlight?
There’s no reason to stop my cock from stirring over the idea.
They can’t exactly see my situation anymore than I can theirs.
“It attaches to all of my bras.”
The new information gives my thoughts a direction to take while maintaining all my piqued attention.
“Much like the new action hero in my life insists on treating me,” her cheeky comment causes me to cock another grin, “I refuse to let that drive out of my sight.” A small pause is followed by the sound of clothes hitting the floor, a noise that has my dick pressing firmly against my zipper again. “The only time is when I shower and even then, it stays in a sealed container near the edge of the shower where I can see it.”
“What the hell is on that thing? Codes to nuclear weapons?”
“It contains a collection of extremely unique ideas and prototypes. Everything on it is encrypted, but I don’t want getting access to my life’s work to become some bored hacker’s version of the Olympics.”
Makes sense.
“Keep your enemies close and the designs that could make their murder look like natural causes closer.” I thoughtlessly turn over my shoulder to shoot her a smirk only to have her instantly squawk, “Still naked!”
My head whips back the right direction so fast my head bumps into the door frame.
Fuck!
For some reason, I feel that was deserved.
And probably necessary.
Who knows, maybe physically knocking my head around will re-instill the sense I somehow seem to lose in her presence.
Thank fuck, I didn’t actually get a good glance at anything.
Doubt I’d ever be able to think straight again.
Longer than I prefer, silence stretches onward, stirring up the worry that had momentarily managed to settle. Just as I’m about to ask what’s taking so long, Cheyenne announces, “Pat down is clear. Through there