Page 234 of Vicious Temptation

He’s close enough now that I can feel his breath on the back of my neck and practically taste the tuna melt he had for lunch. I clench my jaw, but before I can say a single word, his hand closes around my arm.

Sometimes, they make it too easy, and sometimes, I’m okay with that.

I pivot and drive my elbow straight into his face, and the crunch is deeply satisfying. His hand falls away, and before he can recover, I shove him, sending him sprawling onto his ass.

“Stop being a creepy fuck,” I snap. “That mugshot should’ve been your first clue not to touch me.”

Blood pours from his nose as he lets out a pathetic, gargled groan.

“Bitch,” he croaks.

“Thank you.”

Dinner smells incredible.

With the table set and the candles lit, my apartment feels less like a place to just sleep and more like a home.

I glance at the clock. Everything is ready, and I should have enough time to squeeze in a quick shower before Thiago gets here. I haven’t heard from him since late last night, when he texted to say he’d been called out. I’m hoping everything turned out okay and they cut him loose soon. We usually talk on his drive home, so the fact that I haven’t heard from him tells me he’s still tied up with work.

Hopefully, it’s just the debrief.

The thought does little to ease the familiar anxiety I feel whenever he’s out there kicking down doors and putting himself in the line of fire.

I let out a slow breath and decide on a bath instead, hoping it’ll calm my nerves. Ten minutes later, I test the water with my fingertips and smile at the nearly unbearable heat.

Exploding sun. Perfect.

I hook my fingers beneath the hem of my shirt, but just as I’m about to pull it over my head, my phone chimes with a notification that someone just used my access code.

I know it’s Thiago.

I cut the water and hurry toward the door, pulling it open before he has a chance to knock. But the relief of seeing him lasts all of half a second. He’s standing there staring past me, and the emptiness in his expression makes my heart sink.

“Thiago?”

I take in the rest of him and realize he’s still in uniform. Dirt, grime, and blood stain the fabric and smear his forearms and hands. Panic shoots through me until I look him over and realize none of the blood is his. I reach for him and rest a careful hand against the front of his vest.

Only then does he look at me.

His eyes are unfocused and distant, as though part of him is still somewhere else. I’ve never seen him like this, and all I want to do is get him inside and take care of him. There are no tears, only a look that tells me he witnessed something no one should have to. Whatever that was, he doesn’t need me firing off questions or asking him to explain. He came here because he needs me, and that’s enough.

I lace my fingers through his and guide him inside, locking the door behind us. He follows without resistance, his movements stiff and mechanical as I lead him down the hall to the bathroom.

“Can I?” I ask as I reach for the clips on his tactical vest.

He gives me a small nod.

Undoing the buckles, I ease the vest from his shoulders. The weight of it drops into my hands, and I carefully lower it to the floor. I remove his duty belt next, followed by his radio, spare magazines, and handcuffs. One by one, the pieces of his job join the vest on the floor until all that’s left is Thiago in a uniform shirt stiff with someone else’s dried blood.

My fingers catch the hem of his shirt.

“Okay?”

He nods again.

I ease it up his torso, and he lifts his arms enough for me to pull it over his head. Carefully working it free, I drop it on the floor with the rest of his equipment. I wish removing the weight of whatever happened tonight were that easy.

“Get in,” I say gently.