Page 27 of Bad Situation

“I have no time in my life for that Jen,” I assure him.

“You know I’ve worked undercover for the last few years. Feels like I’ve lost time. I’m ready to get that back and I can tell there’s more to you than your executive status. I want to see who she is.”

“I’m not sure you’ll like her. She can have a temper,” I warn.

He smirks. “You always talk about yourself in third person?”

I feel my face frown. “No.”

“Good,” he mutters and he looks like he really means it as he pushes away from the counter and goes to my glass door refrigerator where he deposited the beer earlier and grabs two fresh bottles.

He leaves me standing in my kitchen and heads to my sofa where he pops open both bottles and sets one on the coffee table, leaning back with the other. Looking around my kitchen at the mess left behind from our dinner, I put all the to-go boxes in the fridge and wipe everything down after throwing the trash away.

I had my loft cleaned today, so with nothing left to do, I go back to the sofa. Grabbing the fresh beer I assume is for me, I sit in my corner, leaving ample amount of space between us and try to focus on the game.

Sensing him staring at me, my eyes move to him and confirm the sensation.

He’s staring and grinning.

“What?”

“You’re sitting all the way over there like I haven’t had my hands on you before.”

“Are you serious?”

He keeps grinning. “It’s true, so yes. I’m serious.”

“But that was when I thought you were just some guy who was interested in me. Not some guy who was investigating me. As you can tell, it’s hard for me to get past that.”

“I promise you—I’m still a guy who’s interested in you. You need to get past the FBI shit. I can’t change that.”

I narrow my eyes and glare at him.

He lowers his voice. “Come here.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m not proposing, Jen. Just come and sit by me.”

I can’t help it. That makes me smile even though I try to bite it back.

“I promise not to propose if you come over here and sit close enough where I can put my arm around you. I also promise not to grab your ass for at least fifteen minutes. After that, we’ll see where it goes.”

I give in and shake my head. “Who are you?”

“I’m trying to be a normal guy who’s not an FBI agent, but who still likes your ass.”

“Now you’re talking about yourself in the third person,” I throw at him and realize, aside from playing with my nephew the other night, this is the first time I’ve smiled all week.

“Dammit. I’d say you’re rubbing off on me, but I’d rather you be rubbing up against me. For the last time, are you going to come here or should I come and get you?”

He wouldn’t dare.

He hitches a brow, absolutely daring me.

Oh, what the hell. With my beer in hand, I scoot, closing the monumental distance between us. When I settle in, he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me in tight before slouching down in my sofa, taking me with him.

I decide to give in completely and tuck my shoulder under his arm that’s draped down the side of my body. When he sighs, it sounds like nothing other than complete and utter satisfaction. I have to give him credit for not gloating out loud.

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