Page 5 of B.D.E
My dick twitched under the blanket. She noticed it and her eyes widened like she’d just seen a monster stir.
Bingo.
She was flustered—her body was still as her lips parted, and her face turned red. She couldn’t even hide the way her eyes darted down again, like she didn’t trust what she just saw. That small interaction spoke volumes to me. She was shy. Sweet and naïve as hell, hence why she was housing a stranger in her crib, not knowing that I was a stone-cold killer. I could see something else in her just by her demeanor too, something rare. Specs were untouched. A fucking virgin. A rare gem that was unseen in dayslike these, but here she was. I decided that now wasn’t the time to address it, but best believe, I would soon. As bad as I wanted to move, I couldn’t. Not just from the pain, but from something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time, yet I was feeling it for the second time since laying eyes on her. She made my instincts pause and in my line of work, that shit was dangerous.
I leaned my head back, groaning low. Just enough to let her know that I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, but I was still watching… still thinking. That shit played back behind my eyes like a stuttered reel for the hundredth time. Shit was supposed to be in and out. That was my motto… my promise to every job. But something was off from the moment I scoped it out. The timing was wrong. The energy was off. The meetup that was supposed to be happening seemed to be nonexistent. In fact, there was presence in the warehouse, but no fucking movement and I should’ve walked away the second I noticed that shit, but I stayed. I stayed and the muthafuckas caught me slippin’.
Only one muthafucka knew the full scope of the job.Gideon.I’d been loyal to him for years. He molded me and trained me like a pit bull, feeding me violence and silence. He turned a street ghost into a weapon. But even dogs bite the hand that feeds when they sense betrayal.
Would he really though?
I opened my eyes and looked at her again.Specs.She stood there still, with her arms folded now, trying not to show how much she wanted answers.
“You patched me up?” I asked in a low tone.
She nodded. “You did tell me not to call the cops so…”
Smart girl. I like that.
I felt sleep crawling back up my spine as my body started shutting down again. I tried to fight it, but I was losing like a muthafucka.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She opened her mouth, hesitantly. “Ivy.”
I let her name settle on my tongue, but didn’t say shit back, I just watched her.
“I like Specs better,” I mutter as my eyes slowly started to close.
She huffed, half-offended but I knew her lil ass probably liked it. I caught the way her brows pinch like she was about to say something else, but by the time the words left her lips, I was gone again. Sinking back into the dark.
CHAPTER 5
Ivy
I didn’t openthe bookstore yesterday. How could I, when there was a fine ass dangerous and strange man bleeding and laid out in my bed upstairs, and all I could think about was the way his dick pressed against the front of his pants like it was trying to make an introduction. My body had no right reacting the way it did. I should’ve been focused on bandaging him up, keeping him alive. But instead, my gaze got stuck down there like my eyes had a mind of their own, and I couldn't stop thinking about it now. It wasthick; even half-dead, the man was hard as hell. I’d visioned a few from my favorite smutty books, but it was different when it was real and right in front of me. My mouth had gone dry, and my thighs had pressed together so tight that I swear I could feel the throb from my own pulse between them. Then he started to drift again, and I snapped out of it, scolding myself for being turned on by a man who looked like he’d just walked out of a shootout. And now… now I had to pretend to be normal. I had to openStacked Shelvesand act like I hadn’t spent the night tiptoeing back and forth from the kitchen to my bedroom like some kind of undercover nurse with a crush on her unconscious patient.
The sun had barely risen when I tied my apron on and stood behind the bakery counter, wrist-deep in cinnamon roll dough. The motions always calmed me. This was the part of my routine I never skipped; rolling out the dough just like my mama taught me. I even hummed the same song she used to hum every Saturday morning when she needed peace. “Sweet Thing” by Chaka Khan. It always settled something in my chest. Like it gave me something soft to hold onto in a world that felt like it was getting harder to recognize since my parents left this world. Still, my mind kept drifting back to the stranger I was now housing.
Who was he?
He hadn’t told me his name. Only warned me not to call the cops or an ambulance, like he knew what would happen if I did. He had a lethal but calm presence. The kind of energy that made my instincts scream danger but my body hum with heat. Every time I thought about the way he looked at me before he passed out, my stomach flipped. And that mouth of his, and those lips.Mhmm.Even barely conscious, he had the nerve to call meSpecs. Like it was already a nickname that belonged to me. Like he was already claiming me as his.
I shook my head and kept kneading, focused on getting the batch right. I let the low hum of the music and the scent of brown sugar rising in the warm air take me to my comfort. Then I felt him. The heat of his body radiating behind me as I kept my hands stilled in the dough.
“Specs,” he called out in his rough voice, that sound low and dark, immediately sending chills up my spine. “You look so fucking innocent with those glasses on… but I know what’s under them. I can’t wait to break you in.”
Ijumpedand turned so fast I nearly knocked the rolling pin off the counter. He stood there, leaning against the frame of the open doorway, shirtless, bandaged, and still bleeding in spots,but somehow…powerful. More alive than any man had a right to be in his condition. His braids were messy, eyes low-lidded like he hadn’t slept properly in days, but that stare…that stare, pinned me in place.
“You—you shouldn’t be up,” I stammered, heart racing like I just ran a marathon. “You’re not supposed to—how did you even?”
His gaze dragged down my body slow, like he was memorizing every curve and inch of me. I glanced down, remembering that I was just in a tank top and sleeping shorts with no bra on, so my nipples were visible through the thin fabric. Heat rushed up my neck as he smirked at me. I realized that he’d seen everything.
“I’m good,” he muttered. “For now.”
I swallowed hard and looked away, trying to focus on the counter, or anything other than him but theway he looked at me; I couldn’t even think straight, and the worse part was, I was wet, again. Just from the way he said my fake little nickname. Just from the fact that he was looking at me like I was his dessert. My panties were completely drenched.
“You need anything?” I asked, trying to mask my shaky breath.
