“That was weeks ago! I said I was sorry. There won’t be any repeats.”
“Good.” Even though the memory of that particular moment had become fodder for my shower-time fantasies daily. I also didn’t bring up the fact that she’d kissed me back, every single time.
I was tired of resisting this pull. What if we gave in to the attraction? Would it really be so bad?
Yes, my conscience responded.Yes. It would.
I had to keep Keira safe. And that included keeping her safe from me. Even if it took every last fucking ounce of my willpower to do it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Keira
Livingwith Dean Reynolds was quite possibly going to kill me.
Day after day, we trained together. Sat down for meals together. Tracked Nox Woodson’s movements together. We laughed and argued and sat in silence together.
And every single day, I wanted him more instead of less.
This wholejust-friendsthing was not working.
Take, for example, his training on the obstacle course he’d built. Every single morning, he was out there as the temperatures warmed. Getting all sweaty with his shirt off, hair plastered to his face and his skin getting more tanned by the day. His muscles were more prominent too. Leaner. His reaction times faster.
Lately, watching Dean on that obstacle course had become a pastime of mine. A guilty pleasure.
For the first part of each morning, I would do my own training. I’d been taking longer walks, doing light cardio and stretching. Drilling my physical therapy exercises like it was my job, and arguably it was. But I still couldn’t lift anything. Couldn’t run or spar. Couldn’t do pushups or planks.
Despite my limited routine, I usually tired out fast. Then Iliked to grab a drink, sit on the back deck, and make notes on Woodson’s daily movements using the GPS tracker we’d placed on his car.
Every few minutes, I would let my eyes wander to Dean pummeling the heavy bag. Or doing a zillion pull-ups.
Dean jogged up the steps onto the deck, pouring a bottle of water over his head. Rivulets spun down his neck, shoulders, and chest. A drop of water clung to one pink nipple.
Really? Was that necessary?
“Hey. What’s Woodson up to today? Anything new?”
“The usual.” I showed Dean my notes.
Woodson spent most of his time at the Phelan property. At least, his truck was parked there. His other usual hangouts were his home, a dive bar, and the strip club. The man didn’t vary much on his routine.
Unfortunately, after a stakeout with a pair of binoculars outside Woodson’s home, we’d learned it was surrounded by cameras. River hadn’t been able to gain remote access to the cameras, so there was no possibility of sneaking a listening device inside undetected.
Another option was a listening device at the Phelan place. But Dean thought it was too risky to try going back there.
I wanted to get Woodson alone on a deserted road. Force him to answer my questions using any means necessary. And I didn’t have a single ounce of guilt about the thought of torturing the guy. I was sure he’d been there the night of the shooting. The demon mask connection was enough for me, and I had no doubt Woodson also tried to run Dean and me off the road after I saw him at Donny Phelan’s mansion.
Woodson had tried to kill me twice. He didn’t deserve my mercy.
But Dean refused to make any big moves against Woodson until I was fully healed. That would be at least anothermonth. I wasn’t sure I could take it.
I just wanted to hurry up and finish healing. I wanted to know who’d shot me and why. What Donny Phelan and Nox Woodson and Crosshairs Security had to do with this whole strange conspiracy.
But for now, all of that was going to take more time. More patience.
More ogling of the sexy man I couldn’t have.
At night, it meant more dreams about Dean, when all my resolutions aboutjust being friendswent out the window, and my subconscious played out my deepest desires.
