“I used to live here, remember?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“No. I don’t, actually.” Exasperation tinges my words.
“It was before your time.”
“It must have been. I would have remembered you.” I tip the neck of the bottle in his direction.
“And I you.” This time, it’s his eyes that travel overmybody.
I want to wince at what he must see. I refreshed a bit at the warehouse but I can still smell the stench of the dead clinging to me.
Choking on a swig of beer I’d just taken, I decide it’s time for some me time. If this guy wants to stay, he’ll get an eyeful. Not that he’ll mind. Most men don’t.
“I’m going to take a raincheck on this conversation.” I set my beer on the counter, the clink of it hitting the solid surface is the only sound between us.
He is the quiet type. Assessing but silent.
Inclining his head, he gives his consent. Like I need it. This is my kitchen. My apartment. My life. My time.
Yet, somehow, I have a hard time getting annoyed with Mouse the way I did with Jameson. I actually seem to like Mouse.
I like Jameson too. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. Oh, hell.
Rolling my shoulders, I unzip my leather jacket once more and shrug it off. Walking around him—again—I hang it on one of the hooks I have at the front door and then go into the bedroom. It’s small, but holds a queen size bed, a dresser, and has two doors—one leading to the small in closet, and one leading into the bathroom. It’s the latter door I head through now.
Unbuttoning my pants, I wiggle the tight leather over my ass and down my thighs, peeling it off of my body. Tossing the pants into a heap in the corner, I reach around to unclasp the bustier when fingers skim over mine, pushing them away.
“By all means, let me.” Mouse’s deep voice echoes softly in the small space and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me when his fingers brush gently across my back, slipping beneath the fabric as he unhooks the clasp. He really is quiet, I hadn’t even heard him following me.
Swiftly, the few hooks are undone, the weight of my breasts heavier now that the structure of my top is no longer supporting them.
Brushing my ponytail aside, his fingers graze along my neck.
“Armond never should have touched you.” The anger in his voice cuts through me. I haven’t had anyone care about my well-being since I was a child.
When I was a very young, an old woman named Kioko took me in. She didn’t speak a word of English. I know a few sentences of Japanese thanks to her, but it wasn’t really a family setting. She found me and took me in the way she took in stray cats. She just didn’t want to see me suffer.
The only person who ever felt like family is Armond, and that wasn’t until a few years ago. Now I know that’s only because I am a great asset to him—hard to replace, but not impossible.
The spark in my chest concerns me. It’s safer not to care. You can’t get hurt that way. Mason gives me a trusting sort of feeling. He’s too likable.
I push it all to the background and shrug in regard to Mouse’s comment. I try to blow it off. “I’ve had worse.”
The rumble from his chest isn’t exactly an answer, but it’s all I get.
His fingers find the zipper of the bustier, just below the undone hooks. The tips of his fingers drift along my spine with warmth. As he slides it down, I smirk. “And here I thought you were the sweet one.”
Again, no answer. His eyes meet mine in the mirror. They’re intense; full of fire and so much depth you could drown. I find I want to. I rip my gaze from his, bringing my hands up to hold my top in place just as the zipper falls free.
Stepping toward the white porcelain tub, I turn the water on until it’s hot enough to cook a crab and let it fill. I’m determined to soak until the sun rises, and hopefully the smell of death will wash down the drain by the time I’m done. Just because I kill for a living doesn’t mean I like rotting corpses or that terrible smell that accompanies them.
Throwing some bubbling soap into the bath, I drop my top and pull down my thong, giving the stunning man behind me an intentional view. By the time I sink below the bubbles, my body finally out of sight, Mouse has that pink color back in his cheeks, but his eyes are simmering as he stares at the waterline now keeping me decent.
I feel like a goddess. He’s like my sexy, shy pervert, but I can’t say I mind. My libido is at an all-time high.
“You realize that it’s stupid that you’re here, right?” I poke the quiet bear of a man. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No one knows I’m here. They’ll never know. And if anyone’s coming, I’ll know.” The rumble of his voice as he quietly speaks makes me want to reach between my legs. This guy could read the fucking phone book and it’d get me off.
