Page 56 of Too Safe

My dark, cinnamon-brown hair is blown out and smooth, curling in soft layers that frame my face. Several new freckles have appeared since I arrived in North Carolina a few weeks ago. I’m grateful to have access to my skin care products and sunscreen again.

After I swipe on a coat of mascara, I pinch my cheeks for color, then add a layer of sheer lip gloss.

I adjust my black tank top and smooth my hands down the front of my raw-hemmed white denim shorts.

One more fake smile, and I almost convince myself that this is all okay.

Almost.

I decide I look good enough. Especially considering I don’t know what’s expected of me today.

I asked for details in the car, but Kendrick just mumbled something about a work commitment. Kylian met my eyes in the mirror and gave me a reassuring smile. I hope he’ll fill me in sooner rather than later.

Exiting the bathroom, I’m surprised to find Kylian bustling around. He’s got an armful of my clothes in one hand, and he’s headed for the closet.

He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t notice I’ve emerged.

“Uh, thanks, but I can do that,” I insist from across the room.

He pauses and smiles at me over his shoulder, then continues forward. “It’s not a problem, Jo.”

I follow him into the closet and watch, shifting from hip to hip and feeling all sorts of awkward. He methodically catalogs the items in his grasp—a jean jacket and two sun dresses—then puts them on hangers and hangs them on the rod that spans one side of the space.

“I’ve got almost everything put away. You can rearrange it how you want it later, but at least it’s all sorted,” he murmurs as he hangs the last dress and assesses his work.

Nodding once, he turns back toward me.

“Damn,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up and down my body. “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re just full of compliments today, huh?” I keep my tone light so he can’t see how his words make me feel all girly on the inside.

“I’m a quick learner,” he quips. “You said you weren’t sure where things stand between us, so now I’ll make it abundantly clear as often as possible.”

He holds my gaze for several seconds, the heat in his expression making itabundantly clearthat he likes what he sees. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t love the way he inspects me from head to toe. When Kylian focuses on something, hereallyfocuses.

The spell is broken when he clears his throat.

“There are only a few things left to put away.” He nods toward a random assortment of objects spread out on the bed.

Once we’ve emerged from the walk-in, I gather my curling rod and a reusable gel eye mask to stash in the bathroom. When I walk back into the bedroom, Kylian holds out a sage green case.

“Sunglasses?” he guesses, moving around the bed and holding it out for me.

“Uh, not exactly.” I bite back a smirk and snatch the case out of his hand.

Except he’s too quick. Mentally. And physically.

Tightening his grasp, he regards me with a quizzical smirk. I try—and fail—to pull the case out of his hand.

“What is it, then?” He tilts his head to the side, his expression earnest. There’s no way he’s prepared for the answer to that question.

Biting back a laugh, I tug on the case again. “This would be my vibrator.”

Kylian’s mouth falls open, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.

“This?How?”

The shock in his widened eyes is almost comical. It’s also distracting enough that I let him pull the case right out of my hand.

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