Damaged Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

His delivery is lethal, but oh my God, I’m laughing.

There’s a part of me that leaps up and down at his stupid, sarcastic sense of humor and atrocious vampire impressions.

With one more easy chuckle that makes me wonder who this man even is, he catches me around the waist, swinging me around like it’s totally natural to touch me this way.

He only lets go as I start inching toward our group.

“We’d better hurry. They’re about to leave us behind.”

Vampire might be the wrong monster for this man. I think Roland’s part werewolf.

An inverted one.

When the full moon comes out, apparently he turns into an actual human being.

I steal fifteen more seconds to snap a quick pic, then sprint away with Roland and the group so we can all jump back on the duck boat.

It’s the right kind of silly. The kind I need.

I’m loving this, honestly.

From the graveyard to the tour of a haunted train yard, from an eerie old sanitarium to a hotel that looks like it’s straight out of American Horror Story, baroque and stylish and full of freaky shadows...

I’ll admit the hotel gets to me.

It’s the long hallways, the closed doors, the feeling that if something doesn’t materialize in front of me, then there’s something else behind me.

I’m creeped out in the best way.

Roland and I are at the tail of the group. It makes me feel more exposed without a crowd to hide in. My heart skips erratically.

We’re coming up on a black area of split hallways, the high arched ceilings almost invisible, the wall sconces dim and sputtering with faint buzzes.

Slick sweat trickles down my spine like icy fingertips walking over my skin.

Then one of the lightbulbs bursts with a glassy pop!

I let out a tiny scream, my heart exploding.

When I open my eyes again, I’ve buried myself against Roland’s massive chest.

His arms are around me instantly, layering me with protective heat.

Oh, wow.

I dig my fingers in his shirt, struggling to breathe as my brain catches up with the panic.

“Callie?” he whispers. I feel my own name rumbling through his chest. “You okay?”

“...y-yeah.”

I’m so wrecked. But it’s hard to let go of him, my eyes tightly closed, my heart pounding for different reasons now.

And I still can’t move even when I hear the tour guide calling, “Everything okay back there? Anyone need help?”

“We’re fine. A light blew,” Roland answers, raising his voice while his arms tighten around me.

The tour guide chuckles.

“Old wiring. Happens sometimes. Or hey, maybe...” He drops his voice dramatically. “...maybe the spirits are displeased with our presence.”

Roland snorts dismissively, bending to whisper in my ear, “He’s a theater major, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” I agree, my fingers tightening.

There’s so much hard muscle under my hands, so much warmth.

I slowly notice something.

That’s not my heart I hear racing, thudding under my palms.

It’s his.

Leaping, pounding, this powerful war drum beating against his chest and into me.

Whoa.

So it’s not just me then?

Could he be feeling this strange, indescribable thing, too?

The faint sounds of the tour group moving on make me lift my head.

Mostly to look up at Roland.

He has me hemmed in so close, so protectively, my nose nearly brushing his chin.

I’m too aware of how close his lips are.

It wouldn’t take much.

Before he was so casual when he’d caught me as I’d tripped off the bus.

Now, there’s nothing casual about the smoldering look he throws over me.

The shadows around us only make his royal-blue eyes blaze that much brighter, smoldering and fixed on my face.

No—on my lips.

My mouth nearly hurts with the pressure of his gaze, with the feeling like he’s tasting me in a look.

I shudder.

It’s not my imagination running away with itself.

I’ve only dated around a little, but I know that look.

That look screams something caught a man’s attention—and he’s only got one thing rampaging through his one-track mind.

I’m just not used to a man looking at me that way.

It leaves me breathless, numb, like his heart’s percussion shakes my whole being, quivering warmth into me from head to toe.

I stretch his shirt with how hard I curl my fingers, but I can’t let go.

His hand presses the small of my back in answer.

Lightning flares between us, and maybe he’s got the hypnotic eyes of a serpent but right now...holy God.

Right now, I think we’re both trapped in each other.

In possibilities.

In terrible desire.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, I push up on my toes, my body sliding against his.

The needy feeling in my mouth drags me toward his lips like I’m magnetized.

And when he bends toward me, when his vicious lips part, drawing ever closer to mine, I—

I nearly stumble and plant face-first in his chest as someone shuffles past us.

Beautiful.

An entire wide hallway offers so many ways to go around us, and of course—of freaking course—this clod in cargo shorts and Crocs slams right into us.