Page 64 of No More Secrets

“How much money are you making off me?” he asks, conflicted over who she’s after, him or Shiloh.

She glances away. “None.”

He frowns. That doesn’t make sense to him. Convinced she missed it, that there is a warrant on him for first-degree murder, he wonders what her motivation is. Why is she here? Why is she renting for just a week? Why is she so neighborly and inquisitive? Her dog-and-pony show couldn’t be solely for one girl.

She starts walking toward her nondescript Honda, breaking off his train of thought. “I’ll drive,” she announces.

“We aren’t taking your piece-of-shit car.”

Sophie turns on her heel, walking back to him. “My car isn’t a piece of shit. It’s a great car.”

He throws her a flat look. “You can drive, but we’re taking my truck.”

“We are not—”

He cuts her a look, and she stops. Her blouse flutters in the slight breeze, and he catches her scent, something citrusy. He feels a curling in his groin, and his gaze drops to the hint of cleavage at the opening of her blouse. Hunger roars to life. Drawn to her in a way he can’t explain and has never felt with anyone before, he wants to devour her. He wants her to touch him. Can he withstand it like he was able to when he held her hand? He aches to test that theory. He aches for a connection, something less fleeting than a one-night stand.

He draws his arm around her waist and yanks her flush against him, smiling with blessed relief when his body doesn’t revolt. He buries hisface in the curve of her neck and inhales with force. The scent of her is tantalizing, rippling through him with warmth.

“What are you doing?”

“You smell good.” His throat vibrates with a groan, and his mouth coasts up her neck to skim the shell of her ear.Touch me, he wants to beg. “Why are you here?” he whispers instead.

She’s immobile, rigid in his arms. But she’s not pushing him away. He kisses the skin below her ear, the contact whisper light, and her body goes pliant. Then her hands are on him, fingers burying in his hair, and he wants to shout with triumph. He can feel. He can savor. Her mouth is on his skin, and he trembles at the sensation, nerve endings firing. She peppers him with kisses, and he treasures each one. His cheek, his collarbone, nipping and biting, and arousal shoots to his center. He wants to bellow with pleasure, such a rare and precious gift for him, as his teeth graze her neck. This woman is a stranger to him. She could very well be the one who turns him in to be put away for life. But right now, she’s his everything. She’s set him on fucking fire. His fingers slip under her shirt, eager to explore.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She pushes at his chest. “I’ve heard about you.”

Her words are a bucket of ice water on his head. He backs up, shaking off the fog of arousal and awe. “What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend came by,” Sophie says, chest heaving, her face flushed with arousal. He hopes it’s arousal. Though her eyes are bright with ire. “Faye. Lovely woman.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“That’s not the impression she gave us.”

He runs a hand over his head. Faye is the last person he wants to talk about. “She isn’t my anything. She’s... was... a thing. But you...” He looks her up and down, a grin spreading, the alcohol distracting him. “Truck’s got a nice back seat.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She rolls her eyes with flair. “Get in the truck. Thefrontseat.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he settles in the passenger seat. Sophie goes to her car first. He assumes to get her purse or something. But she gets into his truck carrying a holstered pistol.

Blood empties from his head. “You plan on shooting me?” He told her he wasn’t going to run.

She looks appalled. “Of course not. I can’t leave it overnight in my car.”

He stares at the weapon, recalling the feel of cold metal on his palm once a long time ago. He swore he’d never touch another gun.

“It’s loaded, but I’m licensed. After what you told me, I wanted you to know.”

She assumes he isn’t comfortable around guns.

“I’m cool. I won’t freak out on you.” But he doesn’t like them.

Sophie tucks the pistol under her seat and presses the ignition button. “Buckle up.”

He leans his head against the window. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

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