Provoke

“Hey.” She stood aside and let me in. I walked past her, my finger ‘accidentally’ brushing past her smooth thigh. “Any news?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t planning on telling her about my visit with Cash. I let myself into her living room, with her following behind me, and walked right over to the couch, which I sank down into.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, her tone dry. The edges of her lips twitched. I shrugged. Was there a point in making all this more awkward? She grabbed two cans of soda from the kitchen. “So, are you here for a reason?” she asked, handing me one of the cans.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“You could’ve done that over the phone.”

“Okay. I wanted to see you.” I spoke bluntly.

She sighed, sitting down the other end of the couch, tucking her legs up under her knees. “Mace . . .” Her voice trailed off.

I waited for her to continue, but nothing came. Shifting in my seat so I was facing her, I rested my arm along the back of the couch,

studying her.

She was nervous; I could tell by the way she kept wetting her lips and fidgeting with her fingers. Nervous about what? Me? My eyes fell on her nipples again, which were still stiff as fuck. Maybe she didn’t trust herself with me? I could work with that.

I held out my hand, motioning for her to take it. She hesitated, but did.

“What are you doing, Mace?”

“What? I’m holding your hand,” I said, my fingernails drawing circles on her soft skin.

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I asked, pulling her toward me. She whimpered as I kissed her lips. My fingers stroked the side of her face as I kissed her again, my mouth crashing against hers. She kissed me back, then pulled away.

“Mace, this is not giving me space,” she groaned, her hands slapping her forehead.

“I know, I’m sorry. Take all the time you need.”

She shot me a look.

“What?” I said, spotting my phone on the floor. I bent down to retrieve it, figuring that it fell out of my pants pocket. I half listened to Leet muttering as I checked my emails.

Shit: another email. Another job.

My heart pounded as I clicked it open. I swallowed, my throat rougher than sandpaper as I read the words over and over.

Brunette. Slim. Feisty. I want a fighter. Wednesday. Nine p.m.

Feisty. Had last time given him a thirst for something more violent? That’s if it even was the same guy. It was too hard to tell. The emails always came from a new account, and the details I was supplied with were minimal.

“Mace?”

I glanced over as Leet threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “See? You’re not even listening to me. That’s exactly what I mean.”

I handed her my phone, watching her mouth drop as she read the email.

“So, what now?” she demanded.

I shrugged. I didn’t want to say it.

Her eyes darkened. “No way, Mace. Not again. I swear, if you want there to be any chance of us getting things right . . .”

“What’s the alternative, Leet? I’m so close. I can’t just let this go.”