He knew exactly what he was doing.
I wanted to hate him for it.
Hate my body for falling for it.
But, damn, it felt good to be touched, to be held.
I’d been so alone for so long.
Colter’s hand slid up, drifting over my ribs, and I swear I felt the sensation thrum between my thighs.
Then there was someone clearing their damn throat, making us jerk apart like guilty teenagers.
“Jack,” Colter said, his voice thick, before he even turned.
“Colter,” Jack said back.
“What do you want?” Colter asked as I finally turned, hoping my cheeks weren’t flaming, but judging by how hot they felt, I figured that might be a pipe dream.
“Just stepping out for some air.”
“You hear about the fuck who got released?” Colter asked.
“Yeah.”
“He staying here?”
“No.”
“Good. Keep it that way,” Colter said. “Dylan,” he said, looking back at me, the mix of longing, regret, and lingering heat making my belly flip. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched him jog across the street before I took a slow, deep breath.
“What?” I asked, feeling Jack, the guy I’d met earlier, looking at me.
“Not a damn thing,” he said, making me turn to see the smirk he shot me before dipping back into his office.
“What the fuck was that, right, girl?” I asked Sugar, who was looking up at me with those big golden eyes of hers.
I dug for my key and let us into the room, leaning down to unhook Sugar’s leash.
And it was as I was straightening that I saw it.
Something in the center of the bed that definitely didn’t belong there. Something I hadn’t put there.
A gift basket.
Someone had been in my room while I’d been gone.
“What the fuck?” I said, my hand going to my gun and hovering there.
Until I saw two very distinct things in that basket.
A box of syringes.
And my insulin.
My hand dropped from my holster.
