Page 49 of It's Always Been You

“Nope.”

“Oh, my God. Emily?”

“Caitlin, I told Dr. Ryan to bring me a box,” Travis said with amusement.

“Have you no shame?” Caitlin cried, mortified.

“Why? She’s my doctor.” He was suppressing a grin and it was infuriating her. “My sexual health is her concern, too.”

Caitlin harrumphed and pushed off from Travis’s chest. “What makes you think I’m letting you back into my pants? You’ve missed your chance, buddy.” There was a teasing challenge in her tone while she smirked at Travis.

She walked to the table and grabbed her coffee mug, but not before she saw the big grin on Travis’s face. As she made her way to the TV room, she heard him mutter, “Game on.”

8

The television dronedon with a movie on a cable channel. Since it was a Sunday, Travis sent Sam home after lunch. He was thankful he had hired a man who took his job seriously and didn’t seem to mind being on-call, protecting someone who’d been marked by the Russian mob. The house was surrounded by twelve-foot concrete walls, rigged with pressure-trigger wires on top. Sam made sure those sensors were working properly.

Travis flipped his laptop screen to the CCTV display and scrolled through each sector. All were functional. He ran a test on all the other alarm systems and everything returned with no errors. He had Caitlin locked up tight like fucking Fort Knox. Plus, anyone would have to get through him before they got to her. He realized he was clenching his jaw tightly—he made an effort to relax.

He glanced surreptitiously at Caitlin who wasn’t paying attention to the movie either. She had an adorable furrow between her eyes as she studied the screen in front of her. Porter had given her another set of files to decrypt. She was making little frustrated noises, sighing and talking to herself. Travis had learned not to interrupt her when she was in the “zone.” She seemed to withdraw into a different state of being where all that existed was her and the code before her.

However, a few hours later, he heard the distinct rumbling of her stomach and decided it was time to feed her. He smiled to himself. He should write the manual onThe care and feeding of Caitlin Kincaid.

“Caitlin? You want something to eat?”

No response.

Just the sound of her fingers flying on the keyboard and the voices from the TV.

“Caitlin.” Louder, and this time in a tone he used when he was talking to his crew.

“Huh? What?”

“Food.”

“Oh, yeah. Shit. Yes, I’m hungry.” She grinned sheepishly before returning her attention to the screen in front of her.

Travis sighed and lowered his own laptop on the coffee table. He scooted over on the sofa, touched her arm and said, “Save whatever you’re working on. You need a break.”

“But—”

“No buts. I want you to take a break.” He started prying the laptop from her.

“Wait . . . sheesh . . . okay . . . saving now,” she grumbled as she scrunched her nose at him in irritation.

Jesus Christ, is everything she does adorable?Travis thought. A spasm in his chest strained against his sternum. He was more in love with her now than he was before.

There was no doubt; he was a goner.

He patiently waited for her to finish up because he knew if he left her alone, she’d never follow him into the kitchen.

“Chop, chop, babe,” Travis prodded again.

She finally lowered the lid on her computer, got up and stretched. She was wearing a strappy dress that left little to the imagination. Travis wondered if she was deliberately driving him insane, but maybe it was only in his screwed-up head.He’d seen those types of dresses women wore in the summer. As she raised her arms to flex, the hem lifted and exposed her thighs. Travis had always been a leg man. Even with Caitlin’s scars, all Travis could imagine was having those legs wrapped around him as he drove his cock inside her.

Shit, he was feeling light-headed as the blood shot to his groin, and the front of his pants started to get uncomfortable. He quickly walked ahead of Caitlin so she couldn’t see how little effort it took for her to affect him. Travis popped the lasagna into the oven to reheat.

“Wine?”

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