“Yes.”
I turned my back, moving faster this time, and fell on the couch. “I could’ve told you that no one was here. You didn’t need to bring the guys over to check. Now that I’m safe, you can go. Your job doesn’t entail guarding me.” I grabbed the remote, flipped through the channels, and tried not to look at him.
He sat down, turning to glare at me. “I’m staying with you.”
I stared back. “Why? You just said no one is here.”
“I want to make sure you’re safe tonight.”
“Isn’t that going above the call of duty?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, hard breath. “Race,” he said, peering up at me, “you’re more than a job to me. Didn’t the other night mean anything to you?”
“Well, I…” I mumbled, feeling like a complete asshole.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and raking his fingers through his hair. “It meant something to me. You weren’t just a one-night stand. And until I know who’s after you, I’m not chancing anything happening to you. We’ve been over this before. Can you stop being a hard-ass for five minutes?”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, scooting closer to him. “I was going to watch a movie before bed. Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, swallowing hard and trying to avoid temptation.
“Whatever you want,” he said, leaning back into the couch cushion.
“StepmomorP.S. I Love You?” Luckily for him, I had them both on DVD.
“Which one has the most action?”
I threw my head back against the cushion and smirked. “P.S.has more death.”
“Sounds good.”
“Popcorn?” I asked as I got up from the couch when the previews started.
“Want my help?” he asked, starting to stand.
I pushed him down. “I got it. You relax.”
I tossed the popcorn in the microwave and stared at it as it turned, popping slowly.
I wanted him again. Having him this close, I wanted to feel his skin against me as his mouth covered mine.
Lost in thought, I stood on my tiptoes and reached for a glass bowl. I touched the bottom edge, trying to coax it out. As if in slow motion, the bowl came barreling out of the cupboard and began to fall.
“Fuck!” I yelled out, flinching as I tried to grab it. As it hit the edge of the counter, it shattered, crashing to the floor in pieces, shards of glass trailing in its wake.
Before I could blink, Morgan was standing by my side, pulling me away from the wreckage of the bowl.
I jumped, yelping loudly. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” he said, lifting me away from the glass.
“Damn it,” I whispered as I caught a glimpse of my hands.
He pulled my hands closer. “Let me see.”
Instead of pulling back, I gave in.
Blood had already began to pool in my palms and dripped from the edges.
Why did I have to try to catch the fucking bowl?
