Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(87)
“What are you doing?” she squeaked. Yes, squeaked. She seemed to do that a lot around him, and she was not the squeaking kind.
“I’m goin’ to kiss you,” he declared. “What happens after that is anyone’s guess.”
“Oh, I suspect I know what happens after that,” she informed him with a wry twist of her lips. “Which leads me to believe you’re trying to change the subject.”
“Am I that obvious?” He placed a hand on the bathroom counter on either side of her hips, caging her in. His body heat reached out to her, soothing her and at the same time igniting all her nerve endings like she’d doused them in gasoline and his nearness was the match. Then he leaned forward, ever so slowly, until his mouth was a hairsbreadth from hers.
You will not squeak again!
“More like completely predictable,” she said breathlessly. He seemed to be taking up not only all the space in the bathroom, but all the air too. “All guys try to find a way to change the subject when feelings are the topic of discussion.”
“Well, far be it for me to be predictable,” he said and grabbed her waist, hoisting her up on the bathroom countertop. Her ass hit the cold stone at the same time he latched on to her pulse point like he was friggin’ Bill Compton from True Blood. See, she wasn’t a complete moron. She got some pop-culture references. Though, she’d sooner eat her own combat boots than ever admit to anyone that she’d been a huge—we’re talking major—True Blood fan.
She tried to wiggle away, but he sank his teeth into her throat, a caress and a threat in one. She squeaked. Damnit! “Leo! What if Bran’s outside again?”
“He won’t be,” he assured her, soothing the bite with the flat rasp of his tongue. It made her eyes cross. “He and the rest of the guys have been tryin’ to get the two of us together like this for too long for him to distract us now.”
“Trying to get us together?” she asked, running her hands up his strong arms to grip his shoulders. Holy hell, he really knew how to use his mouth. “Why?”
He kissed his way across her throat to nip at her chin. “Because they know I’ve been pining for you ever since Syria.”
Pining for her. She’d never been pined for before. A thrill of delight radiated from her center out to her limbs. If he’d told her he thought she hung the moon and stars and set the world spinning on its axis, she wouldn’t have been more charmed.
“So that’s what all of those innuendos and all of those veiled looks have been about today,” she said, gasping when he nibbled on her earlobe. There was a part of her—the smart, rational part—that wondered if maybe she should stop things here to save herself from even more heartache, from even more knowing what she’d be missing once he hopped on that floatplane and flew out of her life for good. But the stupid, horny part of her was doing a fairly decent job of convincing her there was no way to re-break a heart that was already broken, so…yeah. Get your groove on, Mortier!
“Sorry about that. They’re not very subtle. But they love me, so…you know.” He shrugged.
“Wow!” She pulled back, blinking up at him. His eyes were half-lidded and full of heat.
“What?”
“You just talked about your friends loving you.”
He grinned, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Told you I wasn’t predictable.”
“You’re lucky to have them.” She sighed when his lips dallied with hers, nipping, tasting, retreating, and nipping again. The sound of their play filled the bathroom. “They’re your family. In all the ways that matter.”
To her utter dismay, he was suddenly gone, having pulled away from her.
Chapter Eighteen
6:49 p.m.…
There was no mistaking the note of melancholy in Olivia’s voice when she spoke of family. And it punched Leo in the gut like a heavyweight fighter, forcing all the air from his lungs. He knew she was an orphan. She’d said something to that effect once. And even though he’d wanted to question her then, one look at her narrowed, guarded eyes had told him the topic was off-limits. Like way the hell off-limits. The Siberia of subjects. But now…
Had she opened the door to him? Just a crack? He stood in front of her, searching her face, looking for permission to step through, wanting permission to step through because…he loved her. And he longed to know everything about her. All her fears and hopes and dreams. Her past and her present, because maybe that would give him the key to her future.
He tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear and chose his words carefully. “I am lucky, even if they’re a pain in my ass most days.”
She smiled, and it looked almost…wistful. He nearly moaned at the sight. Managed to hold it back at the last minute. “I’m told most families are a pain in the ass. That’s what makes them great.”
He couldn’t stand it a second longer. He barreled through the door she’d cracked open. “What happened to your parents?” he whispered. This was a test of sorts. If she had enough faith in him to share her story, then maybe, just maybe she thought there was a chance for them.
Her face blanked, her eyes taking on that glassy, near-doll-like sheen that said all her inner walls had sprung up. His stomach somersaulted over his disappointment and self-reproach. He’d gone too far. Pushed too fast. She didn’t trust him enough to—