Chapter 9
I’m so screwed. I can’t unsee River standing there in a pink bra and panties with her hand on the door like she was about to slam it.
All the hundreds of thoughts I should have been thinking vanished.
She’s a perfect blend of strength and soft curves. Strong legs that spend hours in the saddle. The pink bra she wore is simple, functional, but the way it framed her made me hungry to bury my face there.
Goddamn this job.
My hands remember the feel of her wrists. The way she fit against me when I carried her. All of it. Every fucking breath she took in the truck.
I swear I tried to keep my eyes on her face, but everything in me wanted to look down, to trace every line until only the sight of her was in my brain.
This can’t be happening.
I walk without knowing where I’m going and find myself at the sink, filling up glass after glass of water. Nothing douses the thirst.
She knows it too. Felt the tension. Awareness finally hit River the same way it’s been hitting me.
“Fuck, brother you’re in it now.” I mutter under my breath as I wash the glass and return it to the drying rack.
We are chemical magnets and the pull is going to break something before this is done.
Dammit to hell.
She’s Caleb’s sister. She’s a client. She’s off-limits.
These words run on repeat like a mantra, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’ve seen her now and acknowledged the reality of River Allison. She’s a problem…the woman who blew apart every carefully constructed professional boundary I’ve built.
She might hate me, but we are on fire for each other.
And knowing she’s showering—water running over all that skin I just saw has the need to fuck her clawing through my pelvis strong enough to make me shudder.
Leaning on the sink, I grip the edge until my hands ache.
You’re a better man than this.
Don’t destroy your friendship. Caleb deserves better.
River deserves better.
Stay in control.
Being locked in with River for days on end may prove to be too much. I should request a replacement. Come up with some excuse.
Fuck. Or maybe I should tell her brother the truth. He’d have my head.
“Diesel?”
Her calling for me causes that heat to flare again. Only this time the protector in me comes alive.
“Yeah, ready for me to bandage your arm?”
There’s a pause. Then the door opens again. Only this time she’s in a fucking towel that doesn’t hit even mid-thigh with wet hair hanging over her shoulder.
Her skin is pink from the heat and it’s almost more than I can do to keep from crowding her backward in that bedroom until she’s under me on that tiny fucking bed.
I want River on a visceral, physical level, but the urge is deeper and more complex. It makes me uncomfortable as fuck.
But I’ve never backed off when things are hard, if anything, I lean in.
River makes me want to do that exactly. Embrace the chaos.
Ride the storm.
Slay the demons and win the prize.
Right on schedule, she narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t have anything to wear. The dresser’s empty. But you knew, that didn’t you?”
I can’t say a word. The part of my brain that handles language is broken by the sight of her.
She clears her throat, expression tight with frustration. “Did you hear me?”
“Clothes. Right.”
I pivot and walk to the other bedroom with my mouth dry and my dick definitely making itself known. But when I open the dresser that’s stocked for other male agents, a dark thought overtakes me.
Slamming the drawer, I stride out of the room, grab the keys and head out to the truck where my bag is always at the ready.
She’s still standing in the same place when I get back, looking even more annoyed and just as hot.
I push past her into the room, toss my bag on the bed and drag open the zipper.
“You can wear these.”
“Your clothes,” she says, her tone dripping with acid.
“That or you can stay in that towel.” I glance down, loving the way the towel highlights the valley between her breasts. “I vote for the latter.”
She snatches the T-shirt off the bed, still holding her towel with one hand. “You’re an ass, Diesel Drake.”
My head swivels and I watch her butt beneath the towel, snapping from side to side as she goes. “Technically, sweetheart, I’m an ass man.”
The bathroom door slams. A few seconds later she growls at me. “I forgot to get pants.”
Oh darn.
I lean against the doorframe, holding a pair of my running shorts in my fist. “I’ve got some right here.”
“You’re just screwing with me.”
“Open the door, I’ll give them to you.”
God. What am I doing?
I need to back the fuck out of this room and put a thousand meters between us. But I’m glued to the spot with heat pooling in dangerous places, and my dick stretching down my leg.
Finally the knob turns. She’s got on my gray T-shirt and nothing else. Her nipples are pearls below the fabric. The water from her hair is darkening the collar, and my mouth isn’t dry any longer.
I’m fucking salivating.
Her hand juts out. “Give me,” she demands as she wiggles her fingers.
I look down at that wrist. It’s the one I felt for a pulse on earlier. Her bone structure is so small I can wrap my hand around one and a half times.
The need to pin that wrist over her head makes me dizzy.
She’s watching me as I think about all the nasty, hot things I want to do with her.
“The pants, Diesel. I don’t have all night.”
I flick my gaze to hers, letting her see the fire for the first time. “Actually, we do.”