Theirs to Keep

“Yeah, well it’s not like—”

“You were a cop.”

My heart stopped. My body stiffened.

“H—How’d you know that?”

He shrugged his granite shoulders. “It’s obvious.”

I squinted back at him skeptically. “You looked me up.”

Roderick chuckled. “Karissa Smith? No. I definitely didn’t look you up.”

He didn’t know my name, but then again none of them did. No questions. All payments in cash. It was all part of our deal, when I was first hired.

“So am I right?” he asked, crossing his big arms.

Outside the storm raged. The rain fell. Slowly, mechanically, I nodded.

“Good,” he said, without a hint of celebration or satisfaction. “Let’s go then, while my bed’s still warm. Standing out here’s getting a little creepy anyway.”

Seventeen

KARISSA

His hand was strong, his grip firm as Roderick led me down the hallway, and into his bedroom. The confidence was sexy. So was the way his ass looked from behind, hugged tightly by his boxer briefs.

Easy, girl.

It was hard to be easy. He was just so hot. Darker and more brooding than Bryce or Camden. But also, just beneath that hard outer shell, something warmer. Something sweet.

“You need a new shirt.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement. “No way you’re getting into my bed all soaking wet.”

He rooted around in a top drawer for a moment, then came back with a printed Tee. He tossed it to me, then turned around to face the windows, like a gentleman.

“Red Hot Chili Peppers?” I mused.

“Uh huh.”

I shimmied out of my wet shirt and into his dry one. Right away I felt immeasurably better.

“Ever seen them in concert?”

He shook his head, silhouetted by a lightning flash. “No.”

“You really should.”

Thunder struck, loud and overwhelming. It shook the walls. Or at least it sure felt that way.

“Which side do you want?” I giggled.

“You pick.”

“Uh uh,” I teased. “It’s your bed. Besides, you won the contest.”

Roderick turned, and there was mischief in his eyes. But he was also sizing me up. Trying to figure out where this was going, and perhaps whether or not taking me to bed meant taking me to bed.

“What was it like?” he asked abruptly.