Page 181 of Tangled Like Us
Please, touch me.
I harden, and I rip her blouse with two hands, and she cries, “Yes.”
My pulse is hammering. I press my forehead to hers, kneading her breast, hidden behind a cotton bra. We kiss in raw, explosive hunger. She tugs my hair, and a grunt knots in my chest.
Muscles flexed, I stand up with Jane around my waist. My hand on her ass, her back. I walk further back into the garage. Behind her Beetle.
She runs her hand along my jaw, down my neck—to my gold chain.
We deepen the kiss, and something heady overtakes me. I cup the back of her neck.
And then I solidify at a noise.
She freezes. “Is that…?” We listen.
“Footsteps,” I whisper, eagle-eyeing the door to security’s townhouse. I hear Akara and Quinn’s voice.
Quickly and carefully, I set her down.
I ripped her blouse.Without pause, I open her car door. She has a zebra-print sweater in the backseat, and I hand it to her.
“Thank you.” She slips her arms through. I go grab my radio and hide the whiskey further beneath the weight bench.
The door is about to open.
We’re both tense. We’re both pent-up.
In her urgency, she buttons the sweater unevenly.
“You need to go, Jane.” I nod to her townhouse. I hate saying that, but Akara and Quinn can’t see her like this.
She nods in agreement, and she quickly heads to the other door. To her townhouse. She glances back. “À la prochaine.”Until next time.
And she’s gone.
It’s like a fucking pumpkin is beginning to form and I can’t stop it.
38
THATCHER MORETTI
Akara cameinto the garage because I went off-duty. I shut off comms. And something else just happened outside the townhouse.
Something surrounding Jane.
We just finished taking care of the threat. My muscles can’t unbind. My shoulders are locked, and I yank open the fridge in security’s townhouse and grab a beer. Pop the cap, and I pass the bottle to Akara.
“Thanks, man.” Akara swigs, leaning on the stove. It’s been hectic tonight.
“You should have one, too,” Banks tells me, eyeing the beer. My brother sits on the counter and sticks a toothpick between his teeth. His brows knot and his gaze narrows on the stitched cut along my bicep.
I shake my head and pass him a beer.
I’ve already been drinking whiskey. And I need to be more alert. “I should stay sober until these fucking targets die down.”
“It could be months,” Akara warns me. “The police still don’t know who broke into the house, and now she has a habitual stalker jerking off outside her window.”
I cross my arms over my taut chest. My nose flares.
