Sasha wasn’t above begging, not if it would save Harper. “Please, she’s just a baby…”
“Shh. You and your daughter are safe with me. I won’t let Clifford’s hit men near you.”
No words could have shocked her more. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t, not any more than I know if you’re telling me the truth about whatever evidence Mike may have found. But you want protection from Clifford’s hit squad. I want revenge against the asshole. Looks like we have to trust each other.”
Could she? What other option did she really have? In this case, the devil she didn’t know had to be better than the one she did. At least she hoped.
Sasha gave him a shaky nod. “I need help. I can’t run anymore. They’re getting closer. Harper is sick…”
“And you’re exhausted.”
“I don’t have any money to offer you…”
He hesitated. “That’s not what I want.”
Then what was he after?
Even as Sasha’s mind raced, she became aware of the inferno of heat Nick put off. It sank through her damp clothes, under her skin. For the first time in weeks, she felt warm.
“Um…I could clean your house.”
“That service comes with the rental.”
“I’ll do your laundry.”
Nick shook his head. “I know how to use the washer and dryer just fine.”
“I-I can cook…”
For a quick second, he looked as if that intrigued him, then he scowled. “Takeout works for me.”
Now what? Besides housework, her only other talent lay in scrapbooking, and she seriously doubted he’d want a personalized album commemorating the time he’d spent in prison. But she had to give him something. Relying purely on his good favor would be too dangerous.
“Then what do you want in return for your help?”
Above her, he shifted, grimaced. Confusion buzzed through her brain…until she felt his erection, lengthening and hardening between her legs.
Sasha sucked in a breath. Even through her jeans and his, she could tell he was large. She hadn’t had sex—or any contact with a man—since the night before Mike’s murder, and her neglected body didn’t fail to notice that Nick was thoroughly male. The mixture of fear and desire confused her, even as his scent hung musky in her nose, dizzying her head. His stare melted with heat, pouring over her like liquid seduction.
The truth—the price he intended to extract from her—was in his eyes.
“Me?” Sasha breathed.
He stilled for a moment, studying her. Then, as if he couldn’t resist anymore, he notched against her, his erection now like steel. He nudged her right where it counted, against that bundle of nerves that sent a streak of heat racing up her belly and down her legs.
Sasha closed her eyes. She had to be insane. He was a convicted rapist. Mike had told her that while Nick was one of his best friends, he didn’t trust the guy with women.
Her body was just responding to stress, to her long abstinence. How many times had she fantasized about finding some way—any way—to forget the mess of her life for a few stolen minutes? Too many to count. But the heat simmering in her veins now couldn’t have anything to do with Nick Navarro himself.
“You’re kidding.” She shook her head. He must be.
“Do I feel like I’m kidding?”
Sasha swallowed against the uptick of her heartbeat. “Why?”
“I’ve been in prison for over a year. You have to ask?”
