Page 176 of Saving Her

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about.” I kiss her quick. Hard. “I won’t be long.”

I leave her standing there, lengthening my stride to catch up to Torian as he opens the front door and turns to face me.

“Do you know what you’re doing with her?” he asks.

“No,” I answer honestly. “I’ve got no fucking clue. The only thing I’m certain of is that I don’t want Decker finding out until she’s ready.”

“Well, he won’t hear it from me, but you realize it’s written all over your face, right? He’s going to take one look at you two together and know straight away. He probably already does, with the way you chased her into the house.”

“I’ve got time. I’d only finished telling him I hadn’t laid a hand on her when you pulled into the drive. The way she brutally ignored me when she got out of the car helped, too.”

“Seemed like a lovers’ tiff to me. But what do I know?” He steps outside, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I’ve got a hundred dollars that says he figures it out next time he sees you, and that he attempts to take your life with your own gun.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t say he’d succeed.” He keeps walking. “Enjoy the rest of your night. It might be the last you have.”

Asshole.

I shut the door, locking it behind him, then make my way back toward Penny’s room.

She’s in the shower, the water loud through the pipes.

I decide to do the same, turning off the lights and checking the doors, before I shut myself into the bathroom to wash away the events of the day.

I need to scrub off the layers of lust she painted over me, the depth of her touch that makes it hard to concentrate on what’s important. All I can think about is that kiss… the way I pinned her against the wall… how she’d only just come home from being fucking shot at.

She would’ve been filled with adrenaline. Fucking crazed.

Now there’s a homicidal shooter on the run and I’m standing here with my dick in my hand.

I’m such an asshole.

I hope she’s already gone to bed by the time I wrench off the taps. I don’t want to see her again. Not when I know that the second I do, everything will come flooding back—the hunger, the need, the cloying obsession with wanting her to be protected.

But I’m walking from the adjoining bathroom, a towel around my waist, ruffling the water from my hair with my hand when I notice her in the doorway to my bedroom.

Just like I predicted, I’m hit with a tidal wave of shit I shouldn’t be thinking, shouldn’t be feeling. It doesn’t help that she’s wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt, the material hanging loose at mid-thigh, her hair damp over one shoulder.

“How was your shower?” I start for my bedside table and pull open the top drawer to grab a fresh pair of boxers.

“Good.” She watches me, her attention never straying as she leans against the doorframe.

“Are you calling it a night? I’m ready to crash like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I actually hoped to finish our conversation from earlier.”

Shit. “It can’t wait until morning?” I tug the boxers on underneath my towel. “What else did you want to discuss?”

I don’t like her in here. In my room. In such close proximity to my bed. She’s too seductive and doesn’t even realize it.

“I still have questions.” She moves from the doorway, approaching me. “Is that okay?”

I close the drawer harder than necessary. “What sort of questions?”

“I want to know if you slept with her.”

I straighten, my muscles tight as I untangle the towel from my waist. “No. I didn’t have sex with her.”

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