Taking What's His (Shillings Agency 4)

Sam ran. Legit ran.

She didn’t blame him one little bit.

As soon as he was gone, Holt slammed the door shut behind him and locked it. He ran his hand through his hair, his back still to Lydia, and let out a long breath. When he turned, the murderous glow was gone. But he still looked ready to pounce.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m f-fine.”

“I saw him come in as I left, but it took me a second to recognize him. Once I did, I came back up to make sure you were okay.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

She licked her lips. “But… Thank you.”

“Why did you—?” He broke off, squaring his jaw. Lydia gave him time to think. “Why did you let him in?”

“He said he needed to pick up some stuff here. I hadn’t seen anything of his, but I figured maybe I’d missed it.” She shrugged, swallowing hard. “So I let him in.”

“Lydia, don’t let guys like him in.” He caught her chin, his touch feather light. “As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t let guys like me in, either. I’m starting to think this whole nun idea of Steven’s is a good one.”

She tried to laugh at his joke—at least, she thought it was a joke—but she choked on it, and all that came out was a weird sobbing sound. She covered her mouth and wanted to run for her room, crawl into bed, and never come out again. It wasn’t that she was scared or anything. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have stopped Sam before she’d let him actually hurt her. She just felt…

Icky. Dirty.

As if she needed a shower.

Holt paled, took a step toward her, but stopped. “Lydia.”

“I’m fine.” She held her hand up, the other still covering her mouth. “Really.”

He took another step, cursed under his breath, then closed the distance between them. Within seconds, he had her in his arms and was walking toward the couch. As he sat down with her and kissed her temple, he gently ran his fingers through her hair. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

“I-I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I should have fucking killed him,” he growled. “Next time, let me.”

“No. And like I said, I’m not scared.” She lifted her hand to touch his face. At the last second, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be intimate with him, so she let her hand fall to her lap…empty. “I’m pissed off.”

His lips twitched. “I am, too.”

“He’s such a douchebag. To do that. To kiss me like that…” She shuddered and fought the urge to swipe her hand across her mouth again. “What a…a…”

“Fucking prick,” Holt supplied. “Loser. Asshole. Scum of the fucking earth.”

“Yes, all of those,” she said, nodding. “And more that I can’t think of right now because I’m all worked up.”

He cupped her cheek, his touch tender. Apparently the rules didn’t stop him from touching her all he wanted. “We can write them all down so you remember for next time.”

“There better not be a next time. I never want to see him again.”

“You won’t.” His jaw flexed. “Not if I have anything to say about that.”

Her stomach twisted hard to the left, and it was then that she realized she was cradled in his lap, and he was holding her close. Close enough that she could feel his erection pressing against her butt, and smell the manly scent of his cologne. Close enough that they both froze, breaths held, as they became aware of one another.

It made her want to forget all about his words. Forget all about being friends. She had enough friends, damn it. She desired him. But he didn’t want her. And she had to respect that. Had to respect him. So, she cleared her throat and wiggled free. As she slipped off his lap, he let out a small groan. She hadn’t meant to rub her butt up against his erection…but she totally had.

“Jesus, Lydia.”

Her cheeks heated. “Sorry. So sorry. Uh, thanks for the rescue, by the way. You’re a good friend to have around.”