Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)

“Let’s get this interview started so I can figure out how to catch this guy.” Without waiting for an answer, I stomp over to the table and drop into a chair. I snatch the file where I left it, yanking it open.

Gavin follows, taking the seat across from me. I flat out refuse to acknowledge how good he smells, an intoxicating coconut scent that hits me hard. The way my body reacts to Gavin’s presence has me defensive.

“Now…” I command, “start at the beginning.”

Gavin

I slam the door shut behind the local detective and thump my forehead against the thick slab of wood. Two hours of going through every single nit-picky thing in that damn file of Mitch’s, plus discussing everything not in it had me sweating. Then we spent another hour discussing the newest letter with the LAPD detective sent over to collect it. Then there was yet another hour of Mitch and the detective swapping thoughts about the psycho writing them. And Mitch was an uptight ass the entire time.

I am over it.

Beyond over it. I need a fucking drink. And to get laid.

I grab my wallet and shove it in my back pocket.

“How much longer will you be here, Utah?” I bark at Mitch who is still sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over that damn file.

Mitch raises his head, shimmering grey eyes locking onto mine. They widen just enough for me to know he’s surprised at my hostile tone before they narrow in annoyance.

“I’ll go.” He snaps the file closed and shoves the kitchen chair back.

“Thank god,” I whisper to myself from across the room, turning my back on the sexy FBI man.

“You know—”

“Christ!” I shout, whirling around with my hand clutching my chest. Mitch is somehow only a foot away. The man must move like a goddamn ninja. “You scared the shit out of me. Jesus.”

He waits for me to recover, looking put out, and damn if that doesn’t both piss me off and turn my crank at the same time.

Mitch leans forward. “Don’t leave the house without your bodyguard,” he insists, his dark brows pulling down over those damn grey eyes.

“I’ve already called them and they’re sending someone. I’m not stupid, you know.”

Mitch straightens up to his full height. He’s as tall as me, which makes him just over six feet. “I never said you were stupid, Gavin. Security should be here all the time. Don’t underestimate this guy. It will take me a few days to put together a full profile and a starting point to find him. Do your best to lay low until then. Okay?”

“Fine,” I answer through clenched teeth.

Having Mitch Hale less than a foot away, looking sexy as all hell while scolding me is too much to take. He pushes every single one of my buttons. My cock swells to half-mast.

“You really shouldn’t go out until I finish the profile and can go with you,” Mitch announces. “Even then, I’m not a proper bodyguard.”

Aaa

and the bubble of sexual tension bursts.

I resent him telling me what to do. Especially when he’s gotten me all worked up sexually only to tell me I can’t go out and find someone to help me burn off my frustration.

“Are you serious right now?”

Mitch’s eyebrows nearly disappear under that thick head of black hair. “Of course I’m serious. Honestly? Your house is a security nightmare. I’ll be coming up with a plan to fix that as well.”

“Fuck.” I drag my hands down my face and drop onto one of my sleek leather couches and stare out at the ocean. “This is unreal. I never thought it would come to this.”

Mitch takes a few steps towards the sitting area and stops. His large hand reaches up to his neck to tug at his collar. I watch, entranced by the way the muscles in his shoulder flex under his fitted shirt. He took off his suit jacket hours ago. My eyes find the large black handgun sitting on his hip and my cock jerks in my pants.

Fucking-A if everything about him doesn’t just do it for me.

“Most people don’t have to think about situations like this.”