Chapter Eighteen
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“S o where am I sleeping ?” Bristol asked, bag in one hand and her bat in the other.
A whole new kind of tension filled the room now that they were locked in here alone together again. It was selfish as hell, but deep down he liked the idea of having her all to himself. “My bed.”
“You sure? I’ll be fine on the couch.”
“No. You’re taking my room.” It was more secure, for one. But the totally primitive part of him wanted her in his bed. Even if she was in it without him.
Jesus, he had to stop thinking about her in a sexual way right the hell now.
He turned away from her and started down the short hallway. “I just washed the sheets yesterday, but I can throw them in the machine again now if you want.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Good, because that same primitive part of him liked the thought of her lying in the sheets with his scent on them. Getting all over her.
What the hell’s wrong with you? That’s Eric’s baby sister you’re fantasizing about.
In the bedroom, he flipped on the light and did a quick visual sweep to make sure it was tidy. The window above the headboard was small. Even if someone tried to force their way through it, it would be a tight squeeze. “Make yourself at home. Bathroom’s through there.” He nodded at the en suite. The window in there was even smaller.
Bristol stepped past him, leaving a trail of her scent on the way by. She set her bag and bat down next to the bed, faced him while he struggled to keep his eyes on hers and not drink in the rest of her body. “Where are the towels?”
“Here.” He got some from the closet, went to hand them to her, and stopped short as he turned around.
She was standing directly in front of him, having followed him across the room. They were practically face to face. Close enough that he could see the thin ring of pale blue around her pupils that he’d never noticed before.
Their gazes locked. Neither of them moved.
His pulse surged, his blood heating instantly. The air thickened between them, and his gaze dropped to her lips. Full and plush and pink. Insanely kissable.
He could almost feel them giving beneath his own. Imagined what it would be like to slide his tongue between them. To taste her. Tease her until she whimpered and wrapped around him, demanding more. Give her enough pleasure to make up for everything else.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth in turn. Her lashes lowered. She leaned forward ever so slightly, and he realized too late that he was already doing the same.
Their lips touched. It was only the briefest contact, but a stark, primal hunger streaked through him, so strong he could barely control it.
He jerked his head back, shaken by the power of his response. He slid his tongue across his lower lip as Bristol blinked up at him, pupils dilated behind her glasses. He imagined her wearing them and nothing else, her hair gathered up in his fist while she knelt before him and—
It took every bit of control he had not to grab her and crush his mouth to hers. To take what she so willingly offered.
He ruthlessly shoved his libido back into the vault where he’d been keeping it. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Didn’t know how tightly wound he was. How long it had been since he’d...
She cleared her throat and stepped back, lowering her gaze as if embarrassed. “Thanks.” She took the towels and disappeared into the bathroom, allowing him to finally pull in a breath and get hold of himself.
Jesus, if he hadn’t pulled back when he had, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop.
He ran a hand over his face. Christ, what a mess. It was bad enough that she was in this situation because of him. He needed to protect and take care of her until the threat passed, not fixate on getting her naked and under him in his bed.
“I’ll let you turn in,” he said gruffly from the bedroom doorway. “Been a long day, you must be tired.”
She stepped back out of the bathroom, hair loose and shiny around her shoulders. And God help him, all he could think about was plunging his hands into it, fisting it as he feasted on her, plundering her soft mouth before savoring every inch of her smooth, warm skin. Every inch of each delectable curve hidden under her scrubs. "Okay. Good night."
He hesitated a second, feeling the need to leave her with something comforting. “You’re safe here.” As long as he remembered not to touch her again, that is. “Try to get some sleep.”
“You too.”
Yeah, right. Not likely with his blood running this hot and an unspecified threat hanging over them.
"Night." He shut the door, putting a physical barrier between them, and strode back down the hall. But the rush of arousal continued to pump through his system long after he walked away.
He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Bristol. Wasn’t sure what it was about her that twisted him up inside so badly, but she did. Maybe it was the situation they were in. Or his personal connection to her through Eric.
And he damned well owed it to Eric’s memory to not only keep her safe, but to keep his distance from her.
After grabbing a blanket from the hall closet, he made sure all the windows and doors were still secure, then checked his phone. No new messages. He and Bristol were officially trapped in here together at least overnight.
Ignoring the ache between his legs, he stretched out on the couch, grabbing a throw cushion to use as a pillow. He lay there for a long time in the darkness listening to the quiet hum of the fridge, his mind drifting from what actions the cartel might take against him to Bristol curled up in his bed right now, her hair tousled over his pillow and his scent surrounding her.
Even though he knew it was wrong, he’d still have given damned near anything for the chance to be in it with her.
Off limits. Get your head straight.
Eventually, he drifted into a light doze, only to wake with a start in the darkness later.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness. The house was still and silent, but something had woken him, and it wasn’t Bristol. There was no hint of light in the hall coming from under her door, no indication of movement or stirring on the other side of the living room wall.
His muscles tensed when he caught the edge of a silhouette moving across the blind on the kitchen window. Someone was in the backyard.
Immediately, he rolled to one knee beside the couch, reaching for the weapon he’d left beside his phone on the coffee table. There was no time to warn Bristol. He had to intercept and neutralize the threat before whoever it was got inside.
A nearly imperceptible scraping noise at the back door raised the hairs on the nape of his neck. He hurried over on silent feet, got there in time to see the door handle shift slightly.
He waited behind the door out of view from whoever was on the other side, coiled and ready. Watched the door crack open a fraction of an inch. Waited a second longer, until a foot and leg slipped inside.
He slammed his shoulder into the door full force, crushing the leg between the jamb and the edge of the door. An enraged howl rent the air as he brought his weapon up and spun to confront the intruder, finger on the trigger.
As he turned, the door burst inward without warning, catching him off balance. He lost his footing, had to throw out his hands to catch himself and keep from sprawling face first on the floor. His weapon slipped from his grasp and hit the tile.
Before he could recover it, out of the corner of his eye he saw the assailant’s arm come up. TJ quickly rolled his body to the side and swept a leg out, knocking the attacker’s feet out from under him. The instant the guy hit the floor with a pained grunt, TJ dove at him.
He seized the attacker’s wrist, wrenched the pistol from his grip. It fell to the floor with a clatter just as an elbow flew at TJ’s face. He dodged it at the last moment, used the momentum to flip over and throw a punch at the guy’s throat.
The man had good CQB training because he managed to block it and land a punch to the side of TJ’s face. TJ’s head snapped to the right, stars exploding in front of his eyes. He rammed his fist into the guy’s diaphragm. Managed to wind him, but they were grappling on the floor now, both of them struggling to get the other in a headlock. He was bigger than TJ, and motherfucking strong.
TJ spotted the dark shape of one of the pistols lying close by. He flailed a hand out for it while keeping his other arm locked around the bastard’s throat.
He barely had time to register the silhouette looming above them, just a split second for his heart to seize as he braced to be shot by the new assailant. Then the attacker’s arm slashed down, immediately followed by a loud thump.
The guy in TJ’s grip jerked like he’d been shot, a howl of agony ripping from him as he stopped fighting entirely and slumped to the floor, clutching his side.
TJ looked up at the silhouette, stunned to recognize Bristol standing there, face set, bat poised in her grip like she was ready to take the guy’s head off.