“Bye. Thanks. You were amazing.” Ron or Rob or whoever he is says, giving me a kiss before disappearing out the front door into the darkness. I watch as he climbs into the waiting cab.
“Date over so soon?”
I let out a terrified yelp and spin around to face a furious Mitch Hale.
“Jesus, Hale. What the fuck?” I clutch at my chest, only remembering that I’m not wearing a shirt when my hand hits bare skin.
I don’t miss the quick sweep of Mitch’s eyes over my torso, lingering a little too long on the silver hoops threaded through my nipples, before his face twists into an expression of both pure rage and disbelief.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” His deep voice gets louder and louder as he crowds me against the front door.
I realize I haven’t heard him curse until now. It sounds strange coming from his rather uptight, fidgety persona in his odd, barely-there accent.
I step back, pressing my palms flat against the wood. If I wasn’t so shocked, I’d find this incredibly erotic. Mitch’s steely eyes focus on mine. His tempting red mouth is only inches away. He’s so close I can smell a tantalizing combination of both his cologne and sweat…his sweat. It takes all of my willpower not to lean in and inhale.
“I’ll tell you what the fuck!” he continues ranting. “While you were upstairs with a complete fucking stranger, I chased your stalker down the beach! That’s what the fuck!”
I blink as I try to process this information. What was I expecting? For him to be jealous? I’m not sure, but I sure as fuck didn’t expect him to tell me he pursued my stalker—that the psycho was right outside my house.
“What?” I whisper.
“You heard me,” Mitch growls, moving even closer. I can feel the heat radiating off of his body, searing my skin. A large palm slams down on the door next to my head, rattling the door on its hinges. “While you were being a drunken, spoiled brat, I was busy protecting you!” His breath caresses my face. It’s sweet, intoxicating.
My eyes flutter shut. I can’t look anymore. It’s too heady, too erotic. Instinctually, I lean forward.
A gust of cold air brushes across my naked torso. When I open my eyes, Mitch is across the room, gathering up his coat and tie.
“I’m staying the night. Tomorrow we’ll discuss this and where we go from here.”
I swallow loudly, still pressed against the door. “Where we go from here?”
Mitch gives me an incredulous look. “We need a plan. The guy knows where you live. This is a game changer, Gavin.” He shakes his head. Then he limps over to stand in front of me again, his face twisted with rage and pain. “Do you even want me here? To protect you? To investigate this?”
“Yes,” I respond without hesitation, wondering what happened to his leg but deciding it’s not the time to ask.
Mitch moves towards the stairs, climbing slowly as he speaks. “Then act like it and help me out.” The click of a bedroom door closing signals the end of the conversation.
I sag against the door. My heart is still pounding a hundred miles an hour—from Mitch being so damn sexy and from knowing the stalker was right outside my house while I was busy getting my rocks off.
I trudge up the stairs, mentally berating myself for being so irresponsible. Mitch is right, Rob or Ron or whoever that trick was, could have been the psycho. He could have been the one we’ve been looking for. I could have invited him right into my bedroom.
A full-body shiver gives me goose bumps at the thought.
Light from one of the guest rooms seeps out under the closed door. The faint sounds of the shower running in the en suite bath can be heard from the hall.
I close my eyes and picture Mitch naked, running soapy hands all over his body. I shiver again, and this time not from fear.
Damn. I’ve got it bad. Shaking my head, I return to my room. The messy state of the bed and the scent of sex remind me of my foolishness. Getting laid is not worth getting killed.
In that case, I guess I’d better get used to celibacy.
This is going to be torture.
* * *
The next morning Mitch’s mood hasn’t improved at all. In fact, he’s even grouchier than the night before. Wearing his rumpled dress shirt and suit pants, a cup of coffee in hand, he keeps glaring like he wants to punch me.
Hell, he probably