So why the hell did you let him?
That question rattles around my head as I tiptoe over to the small desk against the far wall. I scan the papers strewn across the top—a phone bill, a few receipts for gas and parts for the shop, several other scraps containing random notes of things to remember to pick up at the store.
Nothing of importance.
A photo on the corner of the desk of him with his arm around a slightly older dark-haired man catches my eye, and I reach out and snag it. My eyes drift over Gage’s easy smile despite the setting in the background. Clearly taken during a deployment, the man must be one of his military buddies.
One of the men listed on his arm, maybe?
I peek back at him, but he hasn’t stirred.
The urge to sneak back over there and examine every spot of ink covering his body tries to pull me that direction, but learning more personal things about Gage won’t do anything but complicate my feelings for him even more.
I release a heavy sigh.
Given his background, he probably will be a benefit to our security team, but I don’t like the idea of having him around, of having to deal with this electricity and attraction between us when I need to be concentrating on the family and keeping them safe.
It’s a distraction.
And distractions open the door for danger I can’t let slip in.
Which is why I’m sneaking around his place like a common thief after he just fucked me into oblivion.
I return the picture to its place and tug open the top drawer, rifling through a few random papers and other items but coming up short of anything interesting or incriminating.
Because ultimately, that’s what I’m looking for.
I know he has secrets, just like I do, despite what he said earlier about us coming clean with each other about everything. Everyone has secrets. Things they hold close to their chests and never reveal due to fear or embarrassment or guilt.
But the problem is, secrets can get you killed, or someone you love could get caught in the crossfire. Which means I have to find out everything I can about the man I just slept with while I have the opportunity.
I dig through every drawer, then do the same in the small kitchenette in the corner that only tells me he orders in most of the time instead of cooking for himself.
He rolls on the bed, spreading out on his back in a way that makes the sheet he pulled up over us shift to the side and expose his cock. I freeze, holding my breath, waiting to see if he’s awake, but he resettles and I release the air from my lungs in a rush.
My clit pulses seeing him like this, and his earlier statement echoes in my head.
“I can’t wait to fuck this pretty mouth of yours, too.”
Lord…
That man’s mouth is as lethal as his decorated cock.
And if I don’t get out of here soon, I’ll be tempted to climb back into bed with him.
I return to searching his dresser and every other inch of the tiny apartment, but there’s nothing here that suggests he isn’t exactly who he says he is or that he’s lied about what he’s doing here or his interest in me.
That should be a relief, but it only makes my gut tighten more.
Because it means he’s the real deal.
And men like that don’t exist in my world.
They can’t.
There isn’t room for them.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I wince, scrambling to pull it out as the sound seems to echo through the room.
