The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,4

her down, albeit it in the nicest way possible. But that was his right. It was his space, and he was protective of it.

Pulling out her industrial-sized bag of flour, she washed and cut the fruit, excited beyond reason to find they were blood oranges. Oh yes, she was going to make something special with these…

Chapter Three

Mason had hit the gym, the bank, and the grocery store before the incipient jet lag hit him, forcing him to head back to his place. He fell asleep on his couch, basking in the warm sun and the familiar smells of his apartment.

Perhaps that was what woke him—a new aroma that made him ravenous. Then something brushed past him. He shot up, rolling and taking the intruder down with him.

Laila’s muffled gasp was cut off as he ground her into the carpet in between his couch and coffee table.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, throwing her hands up to ward off a blow.

“Laila,” he hissed, blinking rapidly, realizing with a start that his arm was drawn back to strike.

Fuck. If he’d hit her, he would have smashed every delicate bone in her face.

Slowly, he put his arm down. “What are you doing here? How did you get inside?”

She gulped, her chest heaving underneath him. “I didn’t think you were at home. When I knocked, you didn’t answer, so I assumed you were still out running errands.”

Lifting her arm, she pointed at his coffee table. “I was leaving your key and the cake I made with the oranges. I—I thought you weren’t home,” she repeated, stuttering slightly.

Adrenaline was still coursing through him, but he tried to get ahold of himself. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, studying her critically as if peering into her eyes would tell him if she had a head injury.

“N-No.” Laila was still staring up at him. She cleared her throat. “I, uh, just had the wind knocked out of me.”

He paused, gazing down at her. Her heart was thrumming like a hummingbird. He could feel it beating far too fast for his peace of mind.

He could also feel other things, like his own arousal, which was rapidly going from half-mast to rock hard.

Laila wasn’t even trying to be provocative. She was wearing her grocery store uniform for fuck’s sake. Compared to the yoga pants and tank top, it was shapeless and boxy, but that didn’t seem to matter because now he could feel each one of her curves pressed against him.

To make matters worse, Laila smelled of sugar and vanilla. It made him want to open his mouth against that cinnamon skin to swallow her whole. Or at least lick her up and down.

Snapping out of it, he climbed off her, pulling her to her feet as he went. Once she was standing, he gave her another once over

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He checked her back for bruises, then moved in front of her to flex her wrists.

“I’m sure,” she said, looking up at him with huge honey-brown eyes. He’d never gotten this close, which was why he’d never noticed those little gold flecks in them before.

“Again, I’m so sorry. I would have never come inside if I thought you were home…” She ducked her head, stepping away.

It was only two feet, but Mason could feel her withdrawal like a punch to the gut. Her posture, the way she was physically drawing in on herself, told the story.

“You’re afraid of me,” he whispered. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” she assured him, her eyes skittering to his face and then away.

Wincing, he swore under his breath. “Fuck, again, I am so sorry. It’s a hazard of the job. Some of the places I sleep in aren’t always secure. When you brushed past me, I reacted.”

She nodded a little too quickly. “As I said, I shouldn’t have come in here without permission. I know better than to sneak up on a soldier.” Her shoulders drew up, and she gave him a forced smile. “That is what you do, right?”

Well, he was wearing an old pair of fatigues. It was only natural she put two and two together.

“I was a soldier. Now I work for a private security firm. That’s why I go overseas a lot. The missions I pull take me all over the world.”

A small line formed between her brows. “Like a Blackwater-type job?”

He wanted to groan aloud. Of course she’d know that name. And it didn’t bode well, given how the company was