His mouth flattens into a line. He watches me for a second, the dumb teasing slipping out of his expression. “What do you say we use those IDs we bought and just disappear? For a little while, at least.”
My jaw tightens. The wound on my cheek pulses with a dull, hot throb. “Disappear for a little while?”
“A cabin. A beach house. Somewhere quiet. Just until we figure out what comes next.” He holds up a hand before I can argue. “I know you want him dead, but?—”
“I want him more than dead, Bridger. You know that fire had his name all over it, and what if she didn’t wake up? What if her and Neve never got out of there?”
“Yeah, I know.” He exhales slowly. “But get her somewhere safe first. We’ll all go. The girls will be far away, and onlywecome back.”
“I need him to burn,” I say, quieter now. “But her safe—you’re right, that’s more important. It’ll give her a chance to breathe a little easier, and figure out what she wants to do about the bakery. I mean, fuck, she just lost everything.”
“She’ll get it all back. We’ll all help her.”
I sit up straighter, my gaze locked on the doorway Marlowe just walked through. “She’s going to need to be in touch with the insurance company though, maybe the cops too, if they’re still investigating.” I nod my head. “But yeah. It’s a decent idea. She needs to feel safe. Even if it’s temporary.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. Just sits there, quiet for a second. Then he says, “Then we find someplace safe. I got your back. Always.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s why you’re still on this bed and not bleeding.”
He grins and stands up. “You’re welcome for making the coffee, by the way. Your woman is insane before her first cup.”
“Get the fuck out.”
He walks out laughing, and a second later, Marlowe comes back in with two mugs and that look on her face. The one where Bridger is one hundred percent correct in saying she’s insane before her first cup.
She hands me the coffee. I take it from her fingers but don’t drink. I’m still watching her, her skin looks so soft and smooth.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, quietly.
She sinks into the chair across from me, one knee drawn up under her. She’s still wearing that oversized shirt, still barefoot. Her hair’s messy, still a little damp from the shower last night, and somehow she’s never looked sexier. With the way her legs are positioned, I catch a glimpse beneath the hem of the shirt—lace. Black. Completely sheer. The ones Neve brought home for her last night. I can see the soft swell of her pussy through the fabric, and fuck me, they’re my new favorite thing. My jaw clenches. My blood heats. She has no idea what she’s doing to me right now.
“Where would we go?” she asks. Her voice is soft, tired.
“Somewhere quiet,” I say. “Somewhere no one knows our names. Just for a few weeks. You need a break from all this.”
She looks at me, unsure. “When?” she asks.
“Today. While no one’s watching. While it’s still possible.”
She presses her lips together. “What about Neve?”
“We’ll all go together,” I say.
“What about your mother?”
“She’s the safest out of all of us, believe me.”
She goes quiet. Her eyes scan the room, flicking past the bandage on my cheek, the coffee cooling between my palms, the way I’m not sitting but perched, waiting for her answer like my whole damn world depends on it.
And then she stands. Takes the cup from my hands. Sets it on the dresser. Walks back toward me. Her fingers skim the side of my neck, light, barely there. “Just a week or two?” she asks.
I nod once. “Just enough time to breathe.”
Her hand flattens against my chest. “Okay,” she says. She tilts her head up, her breath hitting my throat. And it shifts. The space between us. The air thickens. Her fingers move, slow, down my stomach, stopping at the waistband of my shorts. I don’t move. I just stare down at her with a hunger I don’t bother to hide.
She looks up at me. “You’re still not going to touch me unless I ask, right?”
