Her eyes widen, and even though the world is blurry without my glasses, I drown in her bright green irises.
She covers my hands with hers and nuzzles my palms.
“Yes, I’m here,” she whispers.
Nausea rolls up from my toes, and my bladder pinches.
“Bathroom.Now,” I croak.
She steals my breath when she kisses my right palm.I grunt in shock as she pulls me to my feet, drapes my arm over her shoulder, wraps an arm behind my back, and pulls me tight against her side.
“Don’t be a bitch.Lean on me.Let’s go,” she says.
My limbs flop around like dead fish the first few steps, but as my heart rate increases, my strength returns, so by the time we reach the bathroom door, I no longer need her support to stay upright.
I slip my arm off her shoulders and grab the doorframe.She digs her nails into my hips, and I realize I wear only my trousers and undershirt.No socks or shoes.No tie or collared shirt.
In her blouse, pencil skirt, and stockings, with her hair loose and her face free of makeup, she’s soft, vulnerable, and feminine.Our differences reflect in the mirror.
“Out,” I grunt.
She tightens her grip on my waist and meets my eyes in the mirror through the gap between my shoulder and the doorframe.
“If you fall—”
“I won’t.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip for a second before releasing me.
“I’ll stand right here,” she says.
The protective glint in her gaze nearly sends me to my knees.
I shut the door, relieve myself, wash my hands, and splash cold water on my face.
Audrey opens the door.
“C’mon.Back to the couch,” she demands.
I let her pull me around, enjoying the way her curves brush against me and honored at her show of care.When she pushes me onto the couch, I tug her down into my lap and wrap my arms around her.
“Brennan, stop.Let me up,” she gasps.
I lean back, pull her tighter against my chest, and rest my chin on the top of her head.
“I’m dizzy,” I lie.“Let me hold you for a minute.”
I take her silence as permission and adjust her deeper into my lap.She makes a small sound of protest in the back of her throat, but I sigh and meld myself around her as much as possible.
“We need to talk before work begins,” she insists.
“Then talk,” I mumble into her hair.
She sighs and swats at my arm.
“Your sandwich was drugged.We already looked through the surveillance feed and suspect Ms.Baker, but she was sneaky, so we have no solid proof,” she says.
“Who is we?”I ask.
