I jolt awake when I realize someone is shaking me. I scramble back, too many unwanted memories putting me in self-protection mode, where I automatically make myself smaller. I tug my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. It isn’t until I feel the bed dip and a hand running gently up and down my back that I realize I’m not under attack.
“It’s just me, Sorrow.”
I look up and swallow nervously when I see how close he is, conscious of the fact that I’m wearing just a T-shirt with nothing underneath.
He presses a kiss to my forehead before he gets up and walks to the dresser. He rummages around and comes up with a pair of black sweatpants. He throws them at me. I catch them as he pulls out a gray pair for himself.
“They’ll be a little big, but they’ll do.”
I stare at them, confused, before getting to my feet. I look over at him, wondering what’s happening, when my brain snags on the gray sweatpants he slides on. Or, more importantly, what they’re doing an excellent job of outlining.
My brain glitches as I stare at the dips just below his hips that are exposed, thanks to the pants riding low. Dear God, I think I’m having a stroke.
“Sorrow?”
I shake my head, my thoughts sluggish in the way I imagine zombies get when they are hungry for brains. Only I’m hungry for d?—”
“Sorrow? The cops are waiting for us. You okay?”
And just like that, a bucket of cold water is poured all over my flaming libido.
I nod, ducking my head as I feel my cheeks flame, scrambling to get the sweatpants on. I lose my footing and stumble into the bed and almost end up on my ass. Banner is across the room, keeping me steady before I can even process the fact that he’s moved.
I look up at him and feel my breath catch in my throat, and the searing heat in his eyes.
And that’s when I realize his hand is on my ass. My bare ass.
“You naked under my shirt, baby?” His voice comes out rough with need.
I like to think I’m tough. Okay, toughish. I’ve been to prison, dammit, so why is it that one sentence makes me want to swoon like some love-struck book heroine with her head in the clouds?
“Fuck. You’re killing me.”
I bite my lip innocently in awhat did I dokind of way, which has him narrowing his eyes at me.
He takes the sweatpants from my hands and gets down on his knees.
“Foot.”
I lick my lips and lift my leg a little higher than needed, giving him a little flash of what I’m hiding.
He groans low and deep, and I swear I feel that in my bones. My toes curl as I grip his shoulders and lift the other leg into theleg of the pants. He, oh so slowly, slides them up my legs, his fingertips blazing a path up my overheated skin.
“We need to go now before I throw my morals out the window.”
Meh, morals are overrated.
But when he grabs my hand and tugs me out of the room, I don’t put up a fight. As the lust clears, sanity prevails, and I mentally scold myself for encouraging my inner hussy.
You’d think she’d have learned her lesson. But, after years of being on a restrictive diet, she’s ready to get her freak on and gorge herself until bloated—consequences be damned. If it were anyone but Banner, I might let myself run a little wild because I missed out on that. But Banner has always been my kryptonite. Playing with him is like playing with fire, and I’m so fucking tired of getting burned.
When we make it downstairs, I’m surprised to see Wade standing just inside the doorway. Banner looks at him and curses before looking at me.
“Be right back. Stay with Wade.”
I look at him, bemused, as he runs back up the stairs. I walk over to Wade, who offers me a tired smile. I give him one in return, but it falls from my face when I catch a glimpse over his shoulder and see who is standing just behind him. I take a step back, not wanting that man anywhere near me.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Wade moves closer to me as the rookie glares at me.
