As I was paying, I texted Damien, asking him to bring the car around. The cart was overflowing with clothing, plus miscellaneous shit Missy had added. Since my day had gone to hell and I was interrupted and out of the house, I added a bunch of groceries and some other items.
Outside, Missy slid into the car, and I loaded all the bags into the trunk, slamming it shut with a little more force than needed. I climbed into the passenger seat, noticing the weary droop to her shoulders in the back seat.
Not a word was spoken until we got to the garage. I handed Missy a couple of the lighter bags, and we carried the rest to the elevator and up to the apartment. Inside, I held out my hand.
“Pass card.”
She dug into the pocket of my jacket she was wearing and slapped it onto my palm along with the cash. I handed the card to Damien. “Reprogram it.”
She gaped as he walked out. “I swiped it once. It’s not like I could create a duplicate of it.”
I stared at her until she walked away. She slipped off my coat and grabbed the two bags she’d carried inside, heading down the hall. I quickly put away the groceries, then I picked up the rest of the bags containing clothes and followed her. She sat on the bed, looking pissed. I put the bags on the floor and opened the closet door.
“Lots of room to hang your stuff. You do that, and I’ll make lunch. Then we’ll talk, and you can rest.”
She muttered something as I walked away, and I turned back, my anger flaring again. I glowered at her. “What did you say?”
“I said, stop telling me what to do.”
I strode toward the bed where she was sitting. She pushed herself backward into the middle of the bed, glaring up at me defiantly. She refused to look away, her anger matching mine. I climbed on the mattress, hovering over her, dwarfing her completely. Still, she didn’t back down. I loved her fire. Loved seeing this side of her. Feisty and spitting. Ready to fight. I could see glimpses of the eager young cop wanting to take on the bad guys and win.
I wanted her to take me on. I was fucking tired of fighting against her draw.
“I think we established who is boss here,” I said, my face inches from hers. “I decide what you do, when you do it. That will be the first and last joyride you get, Missy. You’re fucking lucky I saw you leave. You wouldn’t have made it back.”
“I can handle myself,” she snipped, pushing ineffectually at my chest.
I looked down at her hands and met her gaze, smirking. “I can see how well you handle yourself. You’re exhausted.”
“I am not. You’re just awkward as fuck. Get off me, you big oaf.”
Hearing her say fuck did something to me. She looked too young and sweet to be saying words like that. My dick, while always ready around her, kicked up fast.
I lowered my hips so they pressed against hers, letting her feel me. “You really want me off you, Missy?” I dropped my head to her neck, ghosting my lips along her skin. “You really want me gone?”
“You’re just a bully. Ordering me around. Telling me what to do all the time,” she protested, her chest moving rapidly but her hands slipping around my neck, playing with my hair.
“Protecting you,” I murmured, darting out my tongue to taste her.
“You hover all the time,” she murmured, rubbing my earlobe between her fingers.
“I look after you,” I replied, biting down on the tender skin at the juncture of her neck.
“You fuss too much,” she protested halfheartedly, licking her lips, her eyes locked on my mouth.
“You’re a pain in my ass.” I ran my lips over her cheek, kissing the corner of her mouth.
“I thought you left the money and pass for me.”
I lifted my head, meeting her eyes and shaking my head. “If you thought it through, you know I would never do that. I can’t risk you.”
“It was a grocery store,” she insisted.
“You were alone. You didn’t tell me you were leaving. What if I couldn’t find you?” I stated honestly.
Her anger dissipated, releasing from her eyes and softening her body. “You would have cared?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I groaned. “So much.”
Our eyes locked again, heat simmering. I loomed over her, every sense and nerve on fire and burning. Tension flickered between us like a live wire. My blood coursed wildly through my veins, desire rushing with it, hot and heavy. I was quickly losing control. She smelled like honey and flowers—the scent of her swirling around us.
“Tell me to go,” I rasped. “You’re tired. You’re hurt. I’m too old. You’re too sweet. Tell me to leave you alone.”