CHAPTER 19
TORI
Istare at the phone screen and wonder what the hell this is going to cost me.
Bennett: Copy that, Sunshine
Bennett: 10 minutes. Under control
The last thing I am right now is under control. I kick out of my heels and drop the phone on the counter, hands shaky.
From nerves, anticipation.
Desire.
I huff out a quick breath, loosening the clip holding my hair back. Unwinding the tightly wound spiral, I shake the dark waves free.
Better.
Rolling my shoulders, I stare out into the dark night. The ocean crashes in the distance, white moonlight dancing on the waves. I hurry over to the window and pull the curtains shut tight. Not that aboater out there can see anything in here, but just in case.
The condo’s quiet. Too quiet. I snatch my phone off the counter and scroll through my music, selecting the playlist labeled Date Night.
Oh god.
Date night.
This isn’t date night. I don’t know what this is — and that’s the most terrifying thought of all.
Bennett does something to me, with those ocean blue eyes, that cocky smirk playing on his lips. He shatters my carefully constructed self-control into pieces.
And that’s before he even touches me.
Knock, knock.
Two quick raps and I’m hyperventilating like a schoolgirl with a crush. I take a deep breath and swipe my palms down my skirt before checking the peephole.
“Hey.” I crack the door open to Bennett.
“Checking in.” His lips quirk as I spot Bishop standing against the wall within earshot.
“Great. We need to talk about the media thing from earlier.”
“Right. The media thing.” A smile tugs at Bennett’s lips as I wave to Bishop.
“I can take it from here.”
Bennett slips through the door, and I shut it quickly behind him. Energy shimmers between us, my heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes drop to my mouth and I can’t breathe, can’t think. Heat floods through me and my thighs tremble. He smells clean and masculine.
Dangerous.
“Your place is very… tidy. Organized.”
He glances around the space. Nothing’s out of place. My laptop sits on my desk, neatly stacked file folders beside it. A cream designer throw lies over the sofa and a lone vanilla-scented candle decorates the kitchen island. Other than that, there’s not much in the way of personal decor.
“I like to keep my living area clean.”
Bennett steps toward me, his pupils dark and wide.
