Page 12 of Her Grumpy Protector

For one perfect moment, the world shrinks to just this: his mouth on mine, his hand in my hair, the solid strength of him anchoring me. No knives, no files, no missing family. Just heat and want and the dizzying realization that kissing Banks Hawthorne is even better than I imagined.

He pulls back first, forehead resting against mine, breathing hard. His eyes are stormy, filled with desire and frustration and something softer underneath.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, but he doesn't move away. "Not now."

I smile, a little dazed and a lot turned on, and brush my thumb across his lower lip. "I know. But I'm really glad we just did."

He lets out a low, reluctant chuckle and presses one more quick kiss to my forehead before standing up. I stay on the floor for a second, touching my lips, heart racing like I've run a marathon instead of doing yoga.

Outside the worry about Sadie still lingers. The danger is still real. But right now, with the taste of Banks still on my mouth, I feel a little braver. A little more alive.

NINE

BANKS

Two hours.

It’s been exactly two hours since I kissed Anniston Wells, and I’m losing my goddamn mind.

I stand at the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so hard the wood creaks under my fingers. The laptop screen in front of me has gone blurry three times now because my brain keeps drifting back to that moment on the rug. Her soft mouth opening under mine. The little sigh she made when I slid my tongue against hers. The way her body melted into me like she’d been waiting for it just as badly as I had. I’ve replayed it so many times I could write the script from memory.

And that’s only the beginning.

In the last two hours I’ve imagined peeling that thin tank top off her. I’ve pictured laying her down on this couch and tasting every inch of her skin until she’s gasping my name. I’ve thought about bending her over the kitchen counter, about her riding me slow in the bed, about pinning her wrists above her head while I drive into her until neither of us can think straight. A millionfilthy, detailed fantasies, each one worse than the last. Each one making it harder to remember why I shouldn’t have her.

Because she’s the principal. Because my brothers are still out there. Because Nash and Sin are missing and Dad is gone and this isn’t the time to get distracted by a flirty blonde who looks at me like I hung the moon.

I’m supposed to be her protector. Not the man who can’t stop thinking about making her come.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I drag a hand down my face and force my attention back to the laptop. The files from her USB are spread across three different windows. I have been cross-referencing names for the last hour, and one keeps popping up brighter than the rest.

Wyatt Rivers.

Former mid-level analyst at Meridian Financial. Fired three weeks ago. Large unexplained deposit hit his account forty-eight hours after termination. Enough money to suggest either a golden parachute or a very expensive payoff. His name appears in three separate transaction notes tied to the same D.C. consultancy network we’ve been chasing. He might have answers. Or at least pieces.

It’s a lead worth checking. In person.

I glance over at Anniston. She’s curled up on the couch with one of the paperbacks from the cabin shelf, knees tucked under her, blonde hair falling messily over one shoulder. She looks soft and focused and far too beautiful for this safe house. Every few minutes she shifts, and the hem of her tank top rides up just enough to show a sliver of skin. My jaw tightens.

She catches me staring and smiles, bright and flirty like she can’t help it. "You keep looking at me like that and I'm going to think you want round two, Banks Hawthorne."

My cock twitches hard. I turn back to the screen before she can see what her words do to me. "We need to talk."

She sets the book down and sits up straighter. "That sounds serious. Should I be worried?"

I walk over and lean against the arm of the couch, keeping some distance between us. If I get too close right now I won’t be responsible for what happens. "I found something in the files. A name. Wyatt Rivers. He worked at Meridian. Do you know him? Got fired recently and received a big payout right after. His information matches patterns we’ve seen with the consultancy. I want to question him."

Anniston's eyes widen. "Wyatt Rivers? I didn’t know him, but I remember that name. It was in one of the email chains. Something about him asking too many questions before they let him go. You think he knows something useful?"

"I think he’s either scared or bought off. Either way, he might talk if I press him the right way." I cross my arms. "His last known address is in Halo City. Edge of the financial district. Not the safest area, but doable."

She stands up quickly, excitement lighting up her face. "When do we leave? I can be ready in ten minutes."

I shake my head. "You’re not coming."

Her hands go to her hips, and damn if that stubborn little stance doesn’t make her even more attractive. "Excuse me? This is myUSB. My research. My life on the line. If this guy has answers about why people are trying to kill me, I deserve to be there."