Chapter 39
39
FIONA
No SWAT. I’m really in love with an FBI agent.
What? I rushed to shut the water off. All was quiet for a moment. He was in love… with me?
He was on the phone. With who? Who cared? That wasn’t what was important. Unless he knew other FBI agents, he was talking about me.
ME.
Since the day you left.
Stalked her.
I stared at myself in the glass, blinked. Set my hands on my heated cheeks. He had stalked me to my vacation rental. And broken in.
Convenience store robbery.
Okay, he was talking about how we met.
Fuckers of Coal Springs list.
I had no idea what that was, but it sounded like something I would like.
“I’m in love with an FBI agent,” I whispered to myself. A slow, cautious smile grew on my face, because it felt good. It felt… happy. Dax loved me.
I felt something for Dax, too, but I didn’t know how to label it. I’d never felt like this before, never knew I could feel this way. Was it love? How the hell was I to know? The smile fell away. He hadn’t told me. He told someone on the phone. Like it was a problem. An affliction.
What should I do? I had no mother. No girlfriends to call. No–
“Dottie.”
I pulled out my cell from my back pocket.
“There’s my favorite secret agent!”
She sounded so upbeat and excited to hear from me.
“I need some advice.”
“Shoot.”
“Not on the phone.”
There was a pause, then, “Gotcha. I’m headed to Twinkle Toes for a pedicure. Join me. My treat.”
When I came out of the bathroom, Dax was leaning against the counter, his back to the register. I stopped when his gaze met mine. Gah, those blue eyes. I melted. So did my panties. He smiled. Yup. Panties ruined, even though my pussy still throbbed from the very thorough pounding it just took.
Then he held out his hand .
God, he was so handsome. No one would know he’d just had sex by looking at him–besides any of the women who’d been in the store a little while ago–but he exuded masculinity and virility. He was potent. Those blue eyes were dangerous. Instead of drinking the Dax Kool-Aid, I was sucking in gulps and gulps of the pheromones he was pumping out. He was strong and had a hint of danger in him.
Didn’t bend to my strength.
He could somehow manage me. Make me see that he was on my side, no matter what choices I made. Even potentially idiotic ones. He wanted to keep me safe. To protect me. Even from myself.
God, mostly from myself.
Unlike when he dragged me into the back office a little while ago, this, now, was my choice. My decision. It was as if this silent act was me agreeing to let Dax in. To trust him.
I studied that rugged hand, knew how it could bring me such insane pleasure. Why did I trust him with my body but with nothing else? Could I give him more? Could I give him all of me?