Page 74

My eyes flick to my rearview mirror, back to the station.

Why would he go after the Captain?

37

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

Cinnamon

Ishouldn’t have spent the night.

A distant dark past flashes behind my eyes, but I force it down, rolling out of Orzo’s embrace.

He grumbles in his sleep, but doesn’t wake.

He’s shirtless, and his sculpted chest is on full display. Every single piece of skin covered in tattoos and…

For a few beats, I just watch him, but the longer I do, the more I see evidence of his pain. Scars and burns litter his body, I can tell the tattoos were placed strategically to hide them, but this close, I am able to discern the difference.

My heart aches, my hand reaching on its own to trace one just above his heart.

His hand lashes out, catching my wrist, and his eyes flash open, contradictorily blurry and alert. “What are you doing, Little Chef?”

I don’t flinch, just applying pressure until he allows my fingers to trace the scar my attention is focused on. “You were shot,” I say.

His eyes widen in surprise before he narrows. “How could you know that?” His grip tightens, a bruising pressure, but I ignore it.

“I’ve lived a chaotic life.” And then I rip out of his hold, stumbling off the bed and to my feet, my eyes flash to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

It’s late.

“I need to head out, my aunt will be worried about me.”

“Your aunt.” Orzo sits up, watching me with his intense gaze.

And then I watch as he begins to explore my body with his eyes. I become acutely aware that I am wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

“Yep.” I pop the P, turning away from him and leaving his bedroom.

I find my bag knocked over next to the bar. Grabbing hold of it, I show myself to the bathroom.

***

Changed, refreshed, and cleaned, I walk out thirty minutes later like a brand new person.

I let out a sharp scream. “Why are you right there? You gave me a heart attack,” I say accusatorily.

“I was afraid you would disappear on me,” Orzo admits, shrugging a shoulder. His oversized hand comes out to cup my cheek. “I’m not going to force you to stay here, but I thought about it. Answer your phone if I call, and don’t go anywhere that doesn’t have a signal,” he grumbles.

Leaning into the roughness of his palm, I allow myself a few beats of calm before his words land. I swat his hand away. “This is what we’re not going to do. You aren’t my keeper. Or my boyfriend.”

Orzo’s nostrils flare, a vein in his temple pulsates.

Perhaps I should be intimidated by the big scary tattooed man, but I’m not.

He reminds me too much of a kitten.

“I told you, I can fuck other men. I can do what I want. This isn’t a relationship.” I establish the boundary again.