He huffs, insistent. “I heard a woman’s voice in this room.”
“Yep. You did.” Pix’s hand slides to the bare skin of my back, unaware there isn’t a universe where I give her up. “I was on speakerphone,” I say. “This woman’s been chasing me all day. You know how it is.”
A fingernail digs lightly into my ribs.
I bite back a laugh.
“I do know how it is,” he says, nodding with a sleazy, self-satisfied grin. “Fuck them and forget ‘em, right?”
The quiet tension of restraint tightens along my neck.
He clears his throat, smoothing his cuffs. “If she’s not inside, mind if I take a look around?”
I don’t need to turn to know Pix is spiraling. I can feel it. Panic radiates off her in tight, frantic waves.
I open the door wider. “Sure,” I say lightly, waving a hand. “Go ahead.”
I shift just enough to block his line of sight, creating a narrow pocket of space between the door and the wall. Pix slips into it without hesitation.
Her small body presses flush to mine.
I should not be enjoying this.
But I absolutely do.
He steps inside and scans the room, methodical and thorough, like we’re hiding cartel drugs.
He even walks to the window.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Checking if she climbed out.”
“We’re two stories up,” I note. “Snow on every ledge.” I tilt my head. “Is she Spider-Woman, or do women usually risk their lives to get away from you?”
His scowl is deeply satisfying.
He gives the room one last, lingering look. Then exhales, smoothing his jacket. “I suppose she isn’t here.”
“Nope.” I nod toward the door.
It would be great if this guy could take a hint.
He hesitates at the threshold, bruised pride and all. Then, he turns back.
“If you see her?—”
I close the door in his face and flip the lock.
End of conversation.
Pix exhales, the breath shivering through her chest. It sends a bolt of something electric through me.
Not lust, exactly. I want to know she’s okay. And promise her that guy will never bother her again.
But I say nothing.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
