Pretty Girl

“You really like her?”

“This isn’t high school, Sam.” I shake my head. I’m too old for crushes. This is something very different.

“Whoever this guy is, he wants her.” I clench the phone hard. I know this already. I don’t need the reminder. The guy ripped her place apart, but not before stealing her underwear and cumming all over her bed. I’m going to have the thing burned. In fact, I never want her back in that apartment again. I’m not sure how I’m going to swing that one, but I’m a man who always gets what he wants, and I will make sure that stays true when it comes to her.

“He can’t have her,” I rumble. I knowing Sam just got what he wanted. He wanted to see how much I wanted her. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t hide it from Sam anyways. He’s good at reading people. He doesn’t even have to be in front of them to do it.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” I know he has a smirk on his face. Sam was always the less serious of the two of us. He was always the good cop and I was the bad cop. We worked well together. We made a good team when we were in the FBI.

I sit down on the sofa. “Me either,” I admit. I was always more a workaholic. Obsessive, they called it. When I zero in on something, I can’t stop until I find what I’m looking for or get what I want. It’s why the FBI still contacts me to look at cases. I’ve been this way my whole life. It’s helped me excel. Though my obsessive tendencies have never been concentrated on a woman before. I’m not sure how to handle it. It’s a new feeling for me.

Chapter Three

Mila

My eyes flutter open as I feel a warm cloth run down my cheek. I roll to my side, my vision adjusting to the dimly lit room to see Jax standing over me as he wipes my face. I lie there studying his unreadable face, shadows playing across it. I think I might be dreaming, so I reach up to touch his cheek and run my finger along his scar.

He stops stroking the cloth down my cheek and I realize I’m not dreaming at all. I go to pull my hand back, but he leans into my touch. I continue caressing his scar, awed by contrast of smooth skin and bristly stubble.

“What are you doing?” I finally ask. He’s in my room. I don’t remember much beyond laying my head on his shoulder and sleep taking me. It’s a terrible habit of mine. I work until exhaustion takes me and then I’m dead to the world. I could crash for a whole twenty-four hours at times, waking for nothing.

“Taking care of you,” he says simply, as if what he’s doing is normal. I drop my hand away from his face, missing the contact instantly. What is it about this man that is calling to me and making me feel at ease and safe?

“Did I fall asleep with my makeup on?” I ask, already knowing the answer. My pillow is probably covered in it. They put a lot on for the shoots. He nods. “Don’t tell my agent.” I yawn and turn my face a little for him to keep going. I should take the cloth from him and do it myself, but I’m enjoying being taken care of for a little while.

I swear I hear him say something like, “fuck your agent,” but I let my eyes fall closed. “Pretty girl, I want you to wake up and eat before you go back to sleep.” My eyes flutter open once again, and I smell food. It makes my stomach growl loudly.

That gets me a chuckle, and the low sound of his deep laugh raises goosebumps on my arms. He tosses the towel on the bedside table and pulls me up to a sitting position. “Thank you,” I tell him, feeling a little shy now.

“Come.” He grabs my hand and leads me into the sitting area of the hotel suite. My agent’s words about never eating before you sleep roll through my mind.

“This isn’t my room,” I say, glancing all around and spotting my bag over by the door. Jax drops my hand and lifts lids off the dishes on the dining table. I see more food than I could ever eat.

“I can’t eat this,” I tell him, even as my fingers itch to grab a French fry.

“Of course, you can.” He must see me eying the fries, because he picks one up and brings it to my mouth. I part my lips and take a bite, moaning at the salty goodness. I close my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I ate a French fry. My eyes fly open when I hear Jax suck in a deep breath. My cheeks heat once again when I play back in my mind the sound I made. I might be a virgin, but I know that moan sounded like a sex moan.