by Marie James
She chuckles, but it’s tinged with that same embarrassment, making it so easy to read on her skin.
“You said I could go through your things. I didn’t offer the same.” Her tone is teasing, and I wonder if talking about or even hinting at something sexual is taking it a little too far.
“Hayden Prescott, do you have naughty things in your bedside table?”
“Sex is natural,” she says, more confidence in her voice than I bet she actually feels. “Of course, I have sex toys. Well, one sex toy.”
I scrape at the back of my neck. “Did you bring that with you? I mean, you did want me to make myself scarce tonight.”
She snorts. “I didn’t even bring my makeup. Do you really think I’d forget that and remember to grab my vibrator?”
“I guess it depends on your priorities. I promise not to interrupt if I hear a little buzzing coming from your room.”
She drops her pretty face in to her hands. “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation with you.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Sex is natural, remember?”
“You like teasing me, don’t you?”
“I like to see you smile, and the blush in your cheeks is my new most favorite thing.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “I’m twenty-nine. I know it’s a little crazy that I get embarrassed talking about sex. Well, I don’t always. Just with—”
“Men?”
“Just you for some reason.”
The conversation is cut off as I pull up to the drive-thru ordering menu, and by the time we get our food, neither of us bring it up again.
She nibbles on fries and groans with every sip of her strawberry milkshake, so that by the time we get back to my building, I’m itching to get my hands on her. I settled for a double with cheese and bacon—hold the onions just in case.
She’s playful, quick to smile as we eat in front of the television, but it doesn’t take long before she’s yawning.
“I’m exhausted,” she says when the credits for an episode of New Girl—my guilty pleasure—begins rolling across the screen.
“Let me get that,” I say as she starts to gather all the trash.
“I’m already inconveniencing you. Let me help.”
She disappears into the kitchen, but when I head that way, she’s already coming back.
“I think I’m going to go to bed,” she says, hiding another yawn behind the back of her hand. “Sorry. The day just snuck up on me.”
“It’s been a crazy day,” I agree, closing some of the distance between the two of us. “Do you have everything you need?”
“I think so.”
At this point, we’re less than two feet from each other, and I’m barely holding on to the ability to keep my hands to myself, and then like something snaps in my head, I reach for her. My hand is so big compared to her tiny frame, and I can’t help but stare down at it.
I lick my lips as she whispers my name.
“Quinten?”
She blinks up at me, and God I want to kiss her. I want to offer my comfortable bed for her to sleep in, my arms to hold her so she won’t be scared.
“Goodnight,” she says, and I realize I spent so much time wishing, that I may have missed the opportunity to act.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I say, regretfully letting my hand fall away.
Next stop, cold shower for one.
Chapter 24
Hayden
Last night after throwing away the trash from dinner was so weird that I got up extra early and ducked out to head to work before Quinten even got up. And I don’t mean that I just tiptoed out. I literally put my ear to the door to see if he was up making any noise. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he had been.
It was awkward as hell because I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he didn’t. I would’ve had to jump to bring his lips to mine, and I figure if he wanted to be kissed, he would’ve made it possible for me to actually do it. I’m sure I was standing there, head tilted back, lips puckered as I waited, and then it just didn’t happen.
First the apology for the first kiss, and then last night? The man is really giving me a complex, but I keep putting myself in the position to be rejected and humiliated.
I found my car keys on the kitchen counter last night, and I saw my car was parked next to the space we pulled into last night, making my getaway super easy this morning.
I’m already regretting getting off work and make a plan to contact Parker at lunch to see if she’ll go shoot with me. Avoiding going back to the condo as long as possible is on the top of my priority list.
I don’t know how much later Quinten stayed up after me, but I found a note beside my purse this morning with an apology for digging through my things and a warning that he loaded my little gun.
The weight of it on my shoulder this morning on the elevator ride down felt much heavier than the couple of pounds I know it to be. Being armed carries a lot of worry and fear rather than a sense of security.
I let the idea of walking around armed sweep over me the times I went to shoot alone, but I don’t feel an ounce of that confidence now that I actually am. I’m more worried about it going off and shooting me in the leg, or someone stealing it and doing something terrible with it.
Once I arrive at the office, I spend fifteen minutes in my car just sitting. I’m way too early to be at work, and I doubt my boss will care if I get there before everyone else. I still wouldn’t be able to leave until five. I hate giving my time away for free. I told the truth yesterday when I confessed to Quinten that I didn’t like my job.
I don’t think a single person there is happy, and if they are, it’s because they’re new and the job just hasn’t sucked the life out of them yet. Accounting is a solid skill to have, and I know I can find work elsewhere, but that also means putting in applications and interviewing, and honestly, the idea of that right now with everything else going on makes me even more exhausted than I already feel. It’s just one more thing I’ll need to add to my never-ending list.
It took hours for me to fall asleep last night, despite being utterly spent. I blame Quinten and the weirdness of yesterday evening. I can’t seem to turn my head off where he’s concerned and being in such close proximity to him isn’t making things better.
First, he teases me about sex toys, and then he maybe almost kisses me? The man can’t seem to make up his mind. I do know that I liked the feel of his hand on my hip, hating that my blouse was tucked in rather than wearing a t-shirt or tank top that gave him the chance to actually feel my skin. It didn’t stop the warmth of him though. I felt that heat there long after ending the awkward encounter and walking away.
I squeeze my eyes shut, needing just a moment without my head filled with thoughts of him, but closing my eyes brings snippets of my dreams from last night back to memory. Geez, the bravery I’m able to display in my dreams is nothing like the shy girl who walked away last night when all I wanted to do was climb him like a tree and press my lips to his.
Grumbling, I climb out of my car and head to the elevator that will lead me to my floor, hoping that distracting myself with work will keep my mind from wandering to places it has no business heading. I want to be brave. I want to open my mouth the next time I see him and demand he tell me why he keeps backing away. I want to ask him to his face if he wants to kiss me. If he rejects me then, so be it. At least I’ll know where his head is at. At least I’ll know where I stand. Not knowing has the power to drive me insane.
As the elevator begins to ascend, my phone chirps, reminding me just how early I am because it’s the thirty minute warning alarm I’ve set to prevent me from being late. I pull it from my purse, silencing the alarm and staring down at the otherwise blank screen. Parker hasn’t been as interactive as normal lately, and although I’m concerned for what’s going on in her life that she seems insistent on keeping me in the dark about, I have things going on in my life that I haven’t been quick to update her o
n either. It seems we both have our secrets.
Stepping off the elevator, I type out a message to her, begging her to meet me after work.
“Is this her?” a man snaps.
My head jerks up from its attention on my phone to find one of the same guys from earlier in the week glaring at me.
My boss is standing behind his desk, his face drained of color. He looks absolutely terrified, his throat working on a swallow and his eyes darting all over the room.
“She has nothing to do with this,” my boss finally manages.
“The hell she doesn’t. We don’t have Feds breathing down our necks because this operation is working smoothly,” the guy snaps, never taking his eyes off me.
“I’m s-so- Who are you?”
“Like you don’t know,” the guy hisses as he advances on me. “Get your ass in here.”
I lift my arms to defend myself, but the guy smiles at the defensive stance. He shakes his head, and I know I look ridiculous. The guy is easily twice my size and I scream out in pain when he clamps a meaty fist around my upper arm before dragging me into Mr. Harrison’s office.
“She’s the accountant, right?” the guy growls, making my boss nod his head.
“But she doesn’t know anything. I did what you asked. I cover those accounts myself. I’ve been—”
“I’m tired of hearing it, Harrison. You know Mr. Pierce doesn’t like delays.”
The guy releases me with a shove so hard I nearly fall to the floor. My hip hits the edge of the desk, making me cry out in pain. Hot tears burn the backs of my eyes threatening to fall, but I somehow manage to hold them back.
My phone chirps a text just as it hits the carpet under one of the office chairs, and the angry man’s eyes snap to mine.
“Did you call the police?”
“What? No.” I’m terrified, but even I know the damn police don’t text. “I texted a friend.”
My hands are shaking uncontrollably, and my jaw is trembling with fear.
“Is she calling the police?”
“I didn’t text her about what was going on. I was texting her before you grabbed me.”
I only thought I was scared before, then he pulls out a gun.
“That’s not necessary,” Mr. Harrison snaps, drawing the attention of the gun-wielding psycho. “She has nothing to do with this. Just let her go.”
The guy scoffs, an evil sound that rumbles from his chest, and with the noise, I know I’m not going to make it out of here alive. I have no clue what is going on, but that won’t stop this man from killing both of us.
“Ch-check it,” I urge. “I wasn’t texting the police. I didn’t say anything about what’s going on here. I-I don’t even know what’s going on.”
“You’re digging into things that don’t concern you,” he snaps, his calm menacing demeanor beginning to turn into rage. Unreasonable men are dangerous, and if this man set out to kill my boss today, I doubt he’ll have any trouble upping that body count to two.
I watched crime shows religiously before my house got broken into. I know that my likelihood of getting out of this with only the bruise I can feel forming on my arm is slim. I’ve seen his face. He’s hinted that I know too much already. He’s said his boss’s name.
“P-Please,” I beg. “I don’t know anything.”
“You know enough,” he hisses.
The overhead lights glint off the shiny, silver weapon, making my legs grow weak, threatening to drag me to the floor.
My phone rings under the chair, and instead of getting angrier, the man shoves the chair out of the way until it crashes against the wall. Then his boot comes down, smashing the screen.
I instantly regret sneaking out of Quinten’s condo this morning. I’d take a million awkward near-kisses if it meant I didn’t have to be here right now.
Chapter 25
Quinten
Waking up hard this morning wasn’t surprising, considering how badly I wanted to go into Hayden’s room last night and apologize for being a weirdo. Not with how far I let my mind wander last night before rolling over and punching my pillow with regret.
I should’ve kissed her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to press my lips to hers and never come back up for air.
But I didn’t want her to feel obligated to kiss me back, and I was afraid that’s what would’ve happened. I insisted she come stay with me until we figure out who and why someone was watching her, and although she didn’t put up too much of a fight, I know she isn’t exactly comfortable with the entire situation. She’s a woman who has been, until recently, living alone and not having to share her space with anyone.
I didn’t want her to feel as if I only had her there for my own selfish gains. I also didn’t want her to feel obligated to kiss me back because of the situation we found ourselves in.
If I had any doubt where she stood, her sneaking out too early this morning is my answer, and I head into work irritated and bordering on irrational. Part of me insists I give her space, knowing I can’t force a woman to want me in the same way I want her. The other part of me wants to pick her little ass up, stare into her eyes, and demand that she be mine.
I get the feeling that possessive attitude isn’t going to get me far where Hayden is concerned, but despite needing to give her space, I can’t help but call her twice on the way to work. The first call rings several times before going to voicemail. The second call goes directly to voicemail, and I guess that gives me my answer.
I’m agitated, fingers twitching with restless energy when I walk into the office, barely even nodding at Pam, the BBS office manager, on my way through. The usual suspects are in the break area, already gearing up to start their day, but I arrow straight for Wren’s office.
“I’d knock!” Jude calls after me, just as my fingers clamp over the doorknob. “He was acting weird this morning. Had that look in his eye.”
I hit the door with impatient knuckles and wait for Wren to answer. He grunts out an unintelligible response, and I shove open the door. Thankfully, Wren is fully clothed when I step into his office.
“Hey asshole!” Puff Daddy yells the second I step inside.
I close the door behind me, catching Wren’s attention. “Must be serious if you’re closing the door.” His eyes narrow. “Or you’re about to ask me to do something you know the others would have a problem with.”
“I want you to check up on Hayden at work.”
“The latter then,” he mutters, and I grow even more agitated when he just sits there staring at me instead of turning around and working his keyboard magic.
“Wren, I need—”
He holds his hand up. “You already have me digging into her life to try to find out who is stalking her. I’ve given you the dossier, so I know that you know—”
“I haven’t read any of it,” I assure him.
I didn’t want to know the answers to questions I could ask her in person and learn that stuff from her. I want to get to know the woman through her own confessions, not words I’ve read from a printed file.
“That may be so, but you know that she works for ViCorp, and they have contracts with government agencies. What you’re asking me to do isn’t as simple at it would be if she worked for a different accounting firm. They do—”
“Government contracts,” I interrupt. “I know, but she left this morning without talking to me, and I have a bad feeling.”
“Getting rejected can suck, but that’s not enough to hack into her office cameras because she’s not interested in you.”
“Loser!”
I clench my teeth, reminding myself that Wren will never help me again if I strangle his stupid bird.
“Bring her to Daddy! I can show her a good time!”
I run my tongue over my top teeth and glare at my friend.
“Do you realize what you’re asking me to do? I could go to prison. Do you know what happens to computer nerds in prison?”
“Bend over boy! Time to pay your rent!”
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He points to the bird. “See! Even he knows.”
He must sense my mood when I don’t laugh. Any other time, I’d find this entire situation comical, but there isn’t an ounce of humor on my face.
“I’ve always said gut feelings are the only things that keep us alive,” he mutters as he turns back to his computer. “You can go grab a cup of coffee or something. This is going to take a while.”
“I’ll wait,” I insist, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at the back of his head.
“Tell Daddy what hurts, baby girl,” Puff says in a voice that oddly sounds a lot like Wren’s. “That’s it, sweetheart. Drink Daddy’s medicine.”
Wren shakes his head, eyes still on his computer screens while I glare at the filthy bird.
“What are you teaching him?” I hiss as I watch Puff Daddy strutting up and down his perch.
“He’s like a two-year-old repeating shit that he hears.”
That’s a confession if I’ve ever heard one.
Jesus, it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?
“What’s taking so long?” I hiss after several minutes.
“I’m covering my damned tracks. I’m not going to prison because you can’t just call the girl on the phone and tell her how you feel. She’s staying at your place. I don’t understand why you can’t see her there.”
“Says the man who stalked Whitney when she went to the gym every day.” He scoffs. “Says the man who still watches her on cameras you’ve put in your own condo.”
“She’s well aware of those cameras. She agreed to them. I’m not forcing surveillance on her.”
“Just, work faster,” I grumble.
“What happened last night? What did you do to make her duck out this morning? Was it bad sex? Is it an erectile problem? It’s common for men your age, so there’s no reason to feel insecure about it. You can overcome that. I found a book online that—”
“We didn’t have sex,” I snap.
“Obviously. That’s the reason I’m recommending the book.”
“I don’t have problems getting an erection. Fuck, would you just shut up and work? I’m not discussing this with you.”