My cheeks are on fire, the sound of his words both turning me on and too much for me to handle.
“I thought that was rather poetic,” he muses as I bury my face in his chest. I need him to stop talking before I die of embarrassment. “I’ve seen what you write, Kitten, and that wasn’t even close.”
“Ugh,” I whine, still talking directly into his shirt. “I know, but it’s different. I have someone who proofs my audiobooks. Bailey laughs at me but I justcan’t.”A new wave of panic hits me as I think about the few people that might actually care that I’m missing. “She doesn’t know I’m gone. Neither does Colt. What if?—”
“Colt has been notified. He’s pissed but he’ll manage. I can have Royce reach out to Bailey and let her know that you’re okay but that we’re taking precautions for the time being.”
“She’s going to be pissed,” I murmur more to myself than to him.
“Yes, well, she can be pissed you’re alive instead of the alternative.”
“Fine.” My huff is less over the fact that he’s chastising me and more for the fact that I still can’t believe this is happening.
Before yesterday, I’d been uneasy and maybe a little scared, but someone had, in fact, tried to run me off the road.
What if they had succeeded?
The strip of roadway there is lined with trees, and there would have been no way for me to stop in time. And then I might not be here with Tom.
I might not be here at all.
A shiver races down my spine and it has nothing to do with Tom’s fluency in oral pleasure. Suddenly, I feel cold, a chill replacing the warmth that being in Tom’s embrace had given me.
“A scare tactic then.”Royce’s theory about the driver’s intentions comes back to me in a flash.
A scare tactic.
It’s almost worse, like a game of cat and mouse—one I’ve written more than a few times now.
Clearing my throat, I move away from him and toward the stove, turning off the burner and pulling two mugs down from the cabinet.
“Do you want some tea?” I ask, ignoring the fact that I hadn’t tried to locate anything resembling tea before boiling the water.
“There’s an electric kettle in that cabinet,” he says carefully, obviously picking up on my sudden shift in mood. Silently, he pulls a small wicker basket with assorted teabags from the shelf above said teakettle and places it on the counter.
“Thanks.”
“I need you to talk to me, Kat. I need to know what you’re thinking and how you’re feeling.” I can feel the snarky retort on the tip of my tongue, the one that wants to blast him for what he said in my office, but he holds up his hands in surrender. “I know.”
“Do you though?” I snap, tearing off the top of the packet with an unsatisfyingripas I pull the teabag out and dunk it in my cup. “Because I don’t even think I know.”
The admission hangs between us, me being mad for the sake of being mad and unable to articulate a reason. But instead of matching my negative energy, Tom takes my hand and threads our fingers together.
His presence is calm—grounding—and I sag against the counter, my hip propped up on the edge.
“I want to do this with you, and that’s new for me. I’ve never had to think of someone else in this,”—he squeezes my hand—“capacity.” Ducking to meet my stare, he adds, “Go easy on me; I’m figuring this out too.”
It might be the first time he’s ever looked sheepish in his life but it’s adorable. And I appreciate him taking a leap and laying his vulnerability out for me.
“Okay,” I tell him, a smile playing on my lips. “Can I make a confession?”
“Is it going to give me more gray hair? Because I’m rather fond of the few strands holding out.”
“I think you look sexy. Women go crazy for a silver fox.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Kitten,” he growls, scooping me up and setting me on the counter, pushing my legs open as he stands between them, “I only care aboutyou.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I muse, running my palms up the hard muscles of his chest, “but an orgasm would go a long way in convincing me.”
