Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(63)

“It’s impractical for a young child. Ground floor with no gate between the front door and the pool.” Austin shivered. “Can I assist you with anything?”

“I think I’ve got it.”

Austin slid onto the stool beside Polly. “Am I to see school pictures of Polly with missing teeth? Or a ballet recital video? I’d be satisfied with either.”

Polly had the simultaneous urge to punch Austin in the shoulder and hug him tight. His lord of the manor behavior might be irritating on the surface, but it meant he wasn’t hiding. And that made it wonderful. “You’ll see nothing of the sort. I was born with all my adult teeth and the battery died on the camcorder. Every single time.”

“Now. That’s not entirely true,” her father turned from the stove to say. Gone was his affable expression, replaced with one that said business time. It was so unexpected that even Austin gave a low whistle that was cut off when her father continued. “But you have to earn the right to see those things, and you’ve got a long way to go. I’m not a man who judges others without getting to know them, mind you, but I think you know that you’re a special case.”

Austin nodded, his confidence visibly slipping just a touch. “I do know that. Please feel free to ask me anything you wish.”

Her father blew out a breath. “Well. I’ll have to make a list, won’t I?” He lifted the tea bags to his nose and smelled them. “Since I want Polly to come back without an extended hiatus next time, I’ll only ask one question and save the rest until then.”

“Please,” Austin prompted, folding his hands on the breakfast bar.

Drake looked shaken for the first time in a long, long time. So shaken, it forced Polly to fight back tears. “I—we knew. Kevin and I, after five minutes in her company, that we would have to stand back and watch her life unfold. That we couldn’t unfold it for her. So I know better than to interfere with what she deems her life’s mission. I trust her. Which is why you are in my house right now.” He picked up a mug and set it back down with a click. “I can feel something coming. Tell me my daughter won’t be hurt.”

Austin was silent for long moments, void of all sound save the flame roaring beneath the kettle. “Polly is the most capable woman I’ve ever met. I never wanted to be the macho * that steps in and plays the hero, because she’s her own hero. And even knowing that, knowing I’d go side-by-side with her into any battle, I would accept my own death before I allowed her injury. Protecting her is something that gives me purpose, and it doesn’t listen to logic.” His penetrating stare hit her with the force of a cannonball. “She’s untouchable as long as I’m breathing.”

The teakettle started whistling, continuing until her father flipped off the burner, although Polly was only semi-aware of the action. Because Austin. He captivated her so completely, movement was impossible. Love him. I love him. I love him. I love him.

Her father cleared his throat. “Tea, anyone?”

…

Polly woke to the sound of heavy breathing. Hers? Between her legs, a thrumming beat echoed with delicious persistence. Her palms sweated, even though the air conditioner bathed her body. The passenger-side window of the car vibrated beneath her head, signaling the car’s movement, but it was nothing compared to the rasping intakes of breath picked up by her left ear. Not her breaths.

Cracking an eyelid open, she saw that evening had fallen and they’d exited the interstate, now winding their way through the streets of Polly’s neighborhood, Logan Square. Attempting to get her bearings, she rolled her neck and sat up, muffling a gasp in the sleeve of her borrowed jacket when the seat belt rubbed over her stiff nipples.

The sound of labored breathing once again filtered through the residual exhaustion fogging up her head, bringing her attention to Austin where he sat in the driver’s seat. Her spine snapped straight at what she saw. His upper lip was beaded with perspiration, his jaw tight enough to shatter. He stared straight ahead, navigating the streets with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” Austin said, so low she could barely hear him over the car’s engine. “Moaning my name…rubbing your legs together. For me. I called you mine in your father’s house, and you’ve accepted me. You…want me back.”

They slowed to a stop at a red light and he turned eyes that blazed on Polly. Sleep fled as they tracked a path over her exposed thighs, telling her without looking that the dress had ridden up in her sleep, or perhaps she’d lifted it herself, tempting him even in an unconscious state. “I should have pulled over, hiked up that meet-the-parents dress, and f*cked you against the side of the car. But I liked hearing you need me. No, I…I love it. I love it. Your needs are my needs. And I won’t breathe or think or sleep until I’ve satisfied them. Twice.”

Polly had grown damp during Austin’s speech, the seat’s leather upholstery pressing against the underside of her mound. Her own breathing matched the tempo of his now, their urgency in sync as he gunned the car through the green light. Polly was thankful for the encroaching darkness because in her current state, she would feel indecent in the light of day. The dream she’d been having came back to her in graphic snippets, turning her nipples to tight peaks inside her dress. “Nothing looks familiar,” she breathed, watching her neighborhood speed by. “Nothing looks the same anymore when I feel like this.”