Nitro knew betterthan to go home with a nice girl like Aurora, but when she asked him to go home with her tonight, he had no good reason why he shouldn’t.
That was the thing that kept looping through his head as he sat outside her little apartment with Aurora by his side, with the cold biting through his jacket. He knew better than to let a woman like her get too close. And the way that she was looking at him, like she could see straight through the wreckage he was trying to hold together with whiskey and sarcasm, was nearly his undoing. And yet—here he was about to follow her up to her apartment.
She leaned against the passenger seat, arms folded loosely, as though she was waiting him out. Did she really want to take a chance with a man who’d just had his life blown apart in pink glitter and lies?
“You always stare like that?” he asked. Nitro knew that he sounded like an ass, but she had literally been watching him breathe.
“Only when I’m trying to figure out if I’ve made the wrong decision,” she said. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to, Nitro. I just didn’t think that you were too upset about whathappened with Tia.” Honestly, he wasn’t. He was pissed at his best friend for sleeping with his woman, but when it came to him and Tia ending things, he felt relieved.
“I’m not,” he admitted. She smiled and took his hand into her own. They sat in silence for a while, and for some reason, the quiet didn’t make him uneasy like it usually did. Aurora was easy to be with.
“You with someone?” he asked, surprising himself.
Aurora’s gaze slid back at him, something shuttering behind her eyes. “No.”
“And, just to clarify, you’re not with anyone, right?” she asked.
Nitro snorted. “I was with someone—up until about three hours ago.”
She winced. “Too soon,” she breathed. “I could feel it as soon as the words left my lips. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he insisted. “She was the one that I caught in bed with my best friend,” he said flatly. Saying it out loud still felt surreal, like his story belonged to someone else. “While I was dressed like Cupid,” he quickly added.
“I know a lot of men who would lie about that kind of stuff,” she said. “They would try to make themselves sound less pathetic.”
He shrugged. “Not big on lies.” Her jaw tightened just enough that he noticed. That’s when it clicked. Aurora Ryder wasn’t just passing through town; she was running from something or someone. And whatever she was running from had taught her the same rules he lived by—watch your exits, trust your instincts, and don’t give anyone a clean shot at your heart.
“Someone hurt you,” he said quietly.
Her eyes snapped to his, “Don’t,” she whispered. That was enough of an answer for him. Nitro got out of the car and rounded the front to her side, opening her door. She studied himlike she was deciding whether he was a risk worth taking—or a mistake she’d regret by the morning. He wanted to tell her that she’d regret every single second with him, but there was no way that he’d blow his chances with her, not after he’d come this far.
“You always this perceptive?” she asked.
“Only when I care,” he breathed. That wasn’t a lie either, because for some odd reason, he seemed to care about Aurora and her story. The word landed heavier than he’d meant it to. Something shifted in her expression. It wasn’t fear or anger. It was something closer to a warning.
“That’s not a good idea,” she said. “You shouldn’t care about me, Nitro. We really don’t know each other.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m starting to notice I’m really bad at making good decisions.”
“Maybe you should just go,” she said. “You can take my car back to the clubhouse, and I can pick it up tomorrow.” Every instinct in him screamed to take her up on her offer.
Instead, he said, “I’d like to stay.” It wasn’t a command or a plea. She hesitated, fingers curling into the hem of her jacket. “I don’t do long term,” she warned him. “This is only for tonight.” Their eyes locked, heat flaring between them. Nitro pulled her from the car and leaned in before he could think better of it. He moved slowly, giving her time to pull away, but she didn’t. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was hunger and reckless timing crashing together. Aurora tasted like beer and smoke and something dangerous he didn’t have a name for yet. He broke the kiss, leaving them both breathless.
Nitro rested his forehead against hers. “This is a bad idea,” she whispered.
He smiled grimly. “Yeah, it is.”
She pulled back first, stepping away like she needed distance to remember who she was. “One night,” she repeated. “That’s all.” Nitro watched her walk toward her apartment building,hips swaying, and her shoulders tight like she was bracing for impact. He should’ve let her go. Instead, he followed her because some fires were worth the scars that they left behind. And Nitro Jackson had never been afraid of getting burned.
Nitro should’ve known betterthan to believe trouble would wait its turn. That’s not how his life usually worked. The old adage, “When it rains, it pours,” seemed to be his mantra since he was just a young man. It followed him through his military career and eventual discharge, into wearing civilian clothing and working in the security field. He was damn good at being invisible, and that’s why good old Uncle Sam kept calling him back into service for missions that no man should agree to go on—but he did. Maybe that made him a fool, or maybe that made him good at his job. That was still up for debate.
Being away from home for periods of time worked for him, but it never seemed to work out for his relationships. Maybe that’s why he had failed at so many of them—his latest one included. He couldn’t really blame Tia for looking elsewhere for companionship since he had been gone for most of January on a mission. The worst part was that he couldn’t tell her, or anyone else, for that matter, about what he did for a living. He stuck with partial truths—that he was in security and had to go out of town to set up a security system for a company that hired him. He just left out the part about there being guns and the government involved.
He looked around Aurora’s apartment, taking it all in as he was trained to do. He liked to know his exits in case he needed them. Her place was small, clean, and felt much too temporary—like someone lived there who never intended to stay long. There were no photos on the walls, and no keepsakes lying around the place. She just had the bare essentials. The only thing that really surprised him was the faint citrus scent that couldn’t quite mask the tension humming beneath the surface of the walls around them. Nitro clocked it all the moment he stepped inside.
“You always live this lite?” he asked, setting his helmet on the kitchen counter.
Aurora shrugged, slipping out of her jacket. “I find it easier to leave places this way.” That answer settled wrong in his chest. He didn’t know her well, but the idea of her just picking up and leaving pissed him off a bit.
