Beneath the Secrets
Page 20
Kara laughed, a soft, feminine note that did funny things to his insides. “He sounds both horrible and entertaining.”
“He was a jerk but a damn entertaining and efficient one, too. He did his job.”
“Which was what?”
“Security.”
“Sounds like he might need some protection of his own.”
Their eyes locked and held and the air thickened instantly. His muscles bunched, tension rippling through him. If anyone needed protection, it was him from this woman. For now, he’d settle for a distraction. He reached for the phone. “You hungry? I’m ordering pizza. You can go over the restaurant staff with me while we eat.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m hungry.”
The air crackled and damn if he wasn’t ready to say “fuck the pizza” and go with her instead. He arched a brow. “For pizza?”
“Pizza. Yes. Cheese.” His lips hinted at a smile that said she knew what he was thinking.
“Cheese. Somehow I thought you’d be more complicated than that.”
“Sometimes the answers are simple.”
Blake snorted. “Rarely.”
“I didn’t say easy. I said simple. There’s a difference.”
“Touché,” he murmured, releasing a heavy breath on the word. After all, what he wanted was pretty cut and dry, pretty damn simple. Find the enemy. Kill the enemy. And damn it, to save Kara, which should not be on the list. And save her from what anyway? Mendez? Richter? Herself?
Blake scrubbed his jaw and turned away from her, reaching for the phone, and hesitating. Kyle was right. She could be undercover with an agency and he could get her killed if he wasn’t careful. Considering the last woman he’d tried to save had ended up dead, maybe he needed to just get the hell away from her. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
Fuckfuckfuck and add about a thousand more “fucks”, because not only was he entangled with this woman, and on dangerous ground, he knew he was going to try to stop saying “fuck” because she wanted him to. He cared what bothered her. He hadn’t let himself give a damn what anyone thought in a long while and he didn’t want to give a damn now. But he did.
Oh yeah. He was f**ked up where this woman was concerned. He might as well order the pizza and stop wasting time trying to convince himself he wasn’t.
Then he’d “fuck” her again and hope she didn’t do him “Denver style” afterwards.
Chapter Eight
When Kara heard Blake order four pizzas, her blood ran cold at what seemed the certainty that guests were coming. She wasn’t waiting around to be dessert for a bunch of Blake’s crew, who surely he’d called to San Francisco. What had she been thinking to come here alone? And why did she keep thinking that sleeping with a monster was anything but sleeping with a monster? He was one of them. She hated them.
Kara waited until Blake turned his head to try to locate the address for the delivery order and she scrambled across the bed and snatched up his shirt (since he’d destroyed the buttons on hers, damn him) and tugged it over her head. Next, she darted for her skirt halfway across the room. She silently cursed when she heard him hang up the phone and adrenaline raced through her with the urgency to dress. A second before she’d been about to claim her garment, his hand shackled her wrist.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as they both straightened.
“I’m not your crew’s chew toy, Blake. I know you think I’m some sort of whore, but I’m not. I’m—”
“What? What in the hell are you talking about, Kara? Chew toy? My crew?”
“You heard me. I’m not a toy for you and your crew to pass around. I don’t care what Mendez told you. I’m not. Let me get dressed and either treat me with respect and let me help you do your job or I’m leaving.”
“Wait.” He shook his head, looking truly baffled. “You think I have people coming here and I plan to let them use you however they please?” He glanced at the phone and back at her. “How did me ordering pizza turn into this?”
“Don’t play naive. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Sweetheart, I wasn’t even naive the day my mama popped me out and the doc slapped my ass. But apparently I do need the just-born-yesterday version of where this assumption came from because not only is no one else coming over. I’m not big on sharing.”
Kara drew back to study him closer, taking in the strong lines of his masculine face, the openness of his normally shielded dark eyes. He really seemed sincere in his claim. “But you ordered four pizzas.”
“Well, yeah. Of course I did. There are two of us.”
“I won’t eat two pizzas.”
“One for you and two for me. Then an extra for breakfast.”
Her brows dipped. “You can eat that much pizza?”
“I like pizza.” Amusement danced in his dark eyes. “So…you assumed I was bringing in ‘the crew’ because of the pizza I ordered?”
She blinked. “Well, I—”
“Overreacted,” he finished, pulling her close, his strong arms wrapping around her and his long dark hair tickling her cheek, and her senses right along with it.
“If you’re telling the truth,” Kara bargained, trying to ignore the slow spread of heat through her limbs, “prove it and let me get dressed.”
“He was a jerk but a damn entertaining and efficient one, too. He did his job.”
“Which was what?”
“Security.”
“Sounds like he might need some protection of his own.”
Their eyes locked and held and the air thickened instantly. His muscles bunched, tension rippling through him. If anyone needed protection, it was him from this woman. For now, he’d settle for a distraction. He reached for the phone. “You hungry? I’m ordering pizza. You can go over the restaurant staff with me while we eat.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m hungry.”
The air crackled and damn if he wasn’t ready to say “fuck the pizza” and go with her instead. He arched a brow. “For pizza?”
“Pizza. Yes. Cheese.” His lips hinted at a smile that said she knew what he was thinking.
“Cheese. Somehow I thought you’d be more complicated than that.”
“Sometimes the answers are simple.”
Blake snorted. “Rarely.”
“I didn’t say easy. I said simple. There’s a difference.”
“Touché,” he murmured, releasing a heavy breath on the word. After all, what he wanted was pretty cut and dry, pretty damn simple. Find the enemy. Kill the enemy. And damn it, to save Kara, which should not be on the list. And save her from what anyway? Mendez? Richter? Herself?
Blake scrubbed his jaw and turned away from her, reaching for the phone, and hesitating. Kyle was right. She could be undercover with an agency and he could get her killed if he wasn’t careful. Considering the last woman he’d tried to save had ended up dead, maybe he needed to just get the hell away from her. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
Fuckfuckfuck and add about a thousand more “fucks”, because not only was he entangled with this woman, and on dangerous ground, he knew he was going to try to stop saying “fuck” because she wanted him to. He cared what bothered her. He hadn’t let himself give a damn what anyone thought in a long while and he didn’t want to give a damn now. But he did.
Oh yeah. He was f**ked up where this woman was concerned. He might as well order the pizza and stop wasting time trying to convince himself he wasn’t.
Then he’d “fuck” her again and hope she didn’t do him “Denver style” afterwards.
Chapter Eight
When Kara heard Blake order four pizzas, her blood ran cold at what seemed the certainty that guests were coming. She wasn’t waiting around to be dessert for a bunch of Blake’s crew, who surely he’d called to San Francisco. What had she been thinking to come here alone? And why did she keep thinking that sleeping with a monster was anything but sleeping with a monster? He was one of them. She hated them.
Kara waited until Blake turned his head to try to locate the address for the delivery order and she scrambled across the bed and snatched up his shirt (since he’d destroyed the buttons on hers, damn him) and tugged it over her head. Next, she darted for her skirt halfway across the room. She silently cursed when she heard him hang up the phone and adrenaline raced through her with the urgency to dress. A second before she’d been about to claim her garment, his hand shackled her wrist.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as they both straightened.
“I’m not your crew’s chew toy, Blake. I know you think I’m some sort of whore, but I’m not. I’m—”
“What? What in the hell are you talking about, Kara? Chew toy? My crew?”
“You heard me. I’m not a toy for you and your crew to pass around. I don’t care what Mendez told you. I’m not. Let me get dressed and either treat me with respect and let me help you do your job or I’m leaving.”
“Wait.” He shook his head, looking truly baffled. “You think I have people coming here and I plan to let them use you however they please?” He glanced at the phone and back at her. “How did me ordering pizza turn into this?”
“Don’t play naive. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Sweetheart, I wasn’t even naive the day my mama popped me out and the doc slapped my ass. But apparently I do need the just-born-yesterday version of where this assumption came from because not only is no one else coming over. I’m not big on sharing.”
Kara drew back to study him closer, taking in the strong lines of his masculine face, the openness of his normally shielded dark eyes. He really seemed sincere in his claim. “But you ordered four pizzas.”
“Well, yeah. Of course I did. There are two of us.”
“I won’t eat two pizzas.”
“One for you and two for me. Then an extra for breakfast.”
Her brows dipped. “You can eat that much pizza?”
“I like pizza.” Amusement danced in his dark eyes. “So…you assumed I was bringing in ‘the crew’ because of the pizza I ordered?”
She blinked. “Well, I—”
“Overreacted,” he finished, pulling her close, his strong arms wrapping around her and his long dark hair tickling her cheek, and her senses right along with it.
“If you’re telling the truth,” Kara bargained, trying to ignore the slow spread of heat through her limbs, “prove it and let me get dressed.”
