“Are you saying I’m toxic?” I’m not even remotely offended. I know I’m not lumped into the same category as the men he mentioned, but that doesn’t mean I think I’m the picture-perfect girl to date. My baggage is literally deadly.
Boone brushes a piece of hair back from my face, skimming his fingers down my neck in a lingering touch. “No, you most certainly are not toxic, Harlyn. However?—”
“Oh, here it comes,” I interrupt, aggravated that it sounds like he is about to say something to support all the reasons why I said this would be too much. Wasn’t that what I wanted?
“There is something about you I find” —his words grow softer and softer as his eyes search mine— “terrifying,” he finishes in a husky whisper. My mouth pops open in outrage, but he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. Instead, he kisses me. It’s different than the kiss at the movie theater. This kiss is a promise, and when he slides his fingers into my hair, holding me close as if I might try to escape, I know everything I said about not wanting him to involve himself in my life was a lie.
The moment I soften and lean into him, I feel Boone smile against my mouth as if he already knows he won. The dip in my stomach only confirms it’s the truth. I will most certainly lose myself in this man. I only hope it doesn’t end in heartbreak or something far worse.
I takea step out of the shadows and one step closer to the image playing out in front of me. Rage that I haven’t felt in years fills me until I feel my arms and legs shaking. A glint of light reflecting off the glass door prompts me to retreat back into the small grove of trees.
I look down to see my knife in my hand, gripped tightly enough to make my fingers ache, yet I didn’t feel it or the metal against my gloved palm until the flash of light nearly gave me away.
Disgust for myself and Harlyn makes me see red. I almost let her ruin me. I almost let her lure me into her trap. She understands exactly what she’s doing, letting him touch her when she knows she belongs to me, and I’m going to make her pay for it.
CHAPTER 17
Harlyn
With the first pass of his tongue over mine, my thoughts scatter, leaving only the heat of his hands in my hair and his lips against mine. I revel in my quieted thoughts. It’s as if his calmness is somehow contagious, and his kiss is a catalyst that allows me to forget everything but him and the way he makes me feel.
My breath catches from the sudden pang of need in my lower belly when he nibbles my bottom lip. Every touch makes me crave more of him, so much so that I even surprise myself when my fingers start to slide up and under the back of his fitted shirt. Boone removes his hand from my hair and grabs my wrist, his hold firm but not meant to hurt.
My eyes slit open when he breaks the kiss. I know he wants me, I can feel just how much with his length pressed against me, so why does he keep stopping?
Without words, he guides my hand to the front of his body near his waistband. My heart rate picks up, and I am totallyonboard with the idea, but when I hit something unexpectedly hard, I look down to find the black handle of a gun sticking out of a pouch tucked into his pants. I flush with a wave of heat. There’s internal embarrassment because I now know that firmness against my belly was not at all what I expected, but I also recognize that Boone with a gun is making me hot.
“Damn,” he curses and tugs my hand away from his waistband. He lets out a long breath over my head and wraps both of our joined hands around my back. “I have never in my life forgotten I was armed.” It sounds like an apology, but I can’t help feeling like it’s at least partly a compliment.
“Not the best placement for an accident,” I tease.
Boone groans in imagined pain. “Definitely not.” His hips kick back a few inches, and I hear a small click or snapping sound before he releases my hand and turns away from me to place his gun, holster and all, on the table.
“Is that okay?” It seems strange for him to just leave it lying out. My granddad had guns, which, now that I think about it, means I have guns, but his firearms were kept locked away, unless he was going out to hunt, and I was never interested in that—something I regret now.
“Does it bother you? If things were different, I would?—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I get it. I’m just not used to it, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’d much rather it be stowed somewhere far away from you, but I can’t do that right now. I shouldn’t even be doing this.” He leans in and kisses me again. The soft, slow brush of his lips against mine leaves me wanting more, but I understand what he means. Now that my mind isn’t quite as hazy with thoughts of him above or under me naked, reality has had time to set back in. I can’t help but feel exposed and vulnerable with all the windows, and considering there are no curtains or blinds to offer any privacy, it probably isn’t a good idea to let things go any further.
I return his affection just as tenderly, but for the first time, I’m the one to pull away. “Considering how much I like this, I really hope the only reason you shouldn’t be doing it is because there is a crazy person who wants to kill me and not because I used my finger to brush my teeth.”
Boone’s brow furrows, and his lips curve in humor. “Definitely not because you used your finger for a toothbrush, but can I ask why you did that?”
My mood flips from light to dark in a heartbeat. I shudder then answer truthfully. “I can’t stop thinking about what he could have done to my stuff. That’s kind of why I freaked out. Sorry about that, but I keep wondering how long this has been going on. What if he spit in my food or did weird things with my toothbrush? What did he do to the things I touch and use every day without thinking?” By the time I’m done speaking, I’m nearly panting. All that calm Boone instilled in me is gone, leaving behind the same question. How the hell am I going to do this?
Boone’s lips tighten into a thin line before he tucks me closer to his body. He doesn’t fill my head with false promises, telling me that didn’t happen, or question why I would even think it, he just comforts me with his nearness, and that’s all I want.
Our embrace is cut short when Boone’s phone vibrates on the sofa. If the condo wasn’t only filled with the soft sounds of our breathing, I might not have even heard the low buzz, but it’s evident we both do when he rubs his hand over my back reassuringly before moving to retrieve his phone from the couch.
“Yeah?” he greets solemnly. If I knew him better, I would say he sounds tired, but since I don’t have that privilege yet, I can only guess the reason for his tone. “I looked at it last night. Not a lot to go on.” He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes unfocused as he listens to whatever is being said before he nods. “That’ssomething. Have you come across similar signatures or any DNA matches for other unsolved cases?”
He beckons me closer with his fingers after he sits down on the couch with his phone against his ear. Accepting the invitation, I sit close enough so I can hear a few muffled words from the other end of the line. Something about the person’s pitch makes me assume it’s a woman, but I can’t be certain.
“I haven’t checked my email yet.” He stands, leaving me alone, then rushes to the table where I notice a laptop for the first time. Using his shoulder, he holds the phone to his ear and tips the lid open. His fingers fly over the keyboard, entering what seems to be a rather long password. It’s tempting to join him, to look over his shoulder and see what had him jumping up, but I don’t. Not only is that a gross invasion of privacy, but I would guess there is other work related stuff on there too. I have no idea what boundaries come with that and what other cases he may be working on.
“I have it pulled up now. Give me a second to read the report.” His eyes move left to right as he scans the screen in front of him. “No DNA. Everything they tested came back with the victim’s profile,” he says as he stands up tall, but his eyes are still locked on his computer. “We don’t have time to rerun every sample from similar homicides. We need to tighten the focus a bit. We know this guy isn’t afraid to take risks, otherwise he would have picked an easier target than Wade. We can also be fairly certain stalking is a key part of his signature, but that still doesn’t narrow the scope enough.”
