Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 83167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Mo had moved closer to my station while I spoke.
What he didn’t do while doing that, arriving, and stopping to stand close to my table was reply.
“Right, Mo?” I pressed.
He was silent a moment, but before I could push again, he spoke.
“When this guy is caught, Lottie, the jury that matters right now is still out as to what to do with him.”
“The jury that matters?”
“Hawk, Smithie…” he said no more.
“And you,” I whispered.
“I’ll make my case to Hawk that I get a say.”
“And that case will be?”
“I got claimed in a King Soopers. I don’t mind I did. As in I way don’t mind it. And seein’ as I belong to you, you belong to me, so I get a say.”
Oh my God.
I totally needed to pounce on my mound of hunkalicious, soon-to-be (I hoped) boyfriend.
“You need to move away, baby,” I whispered.
His head jerked. His eyes went dark. The muscles in his neck stood out in a sexy way that was so not helping matters.
Then he moved back to the door.
I tried deep breathing.
Then I turned to my mirror to deal with my makeup.
It didn’t help because I could see Mo in the mirror.
His wide shoulders were to the wall and his gaze was cast to the floor, I knew, so he wouldn’t be staring at me.
God.
They needed to catch this guy.
They so needed to catch this guy.
I moved a shaky hand toward my cleansing wipes.
And for right then, I got down to business.
* * * *
“Start with your toes, Lottie.”
Mo’s deep voice coming to me in the dark told me not only that he wasn’t asleep, but that he was hearing me toss and turn.
I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling. “I tried. It’s not working.”
“You want me to help?”
First, I loved that he asked.
Second, his voice coming to me from ten feet away when I couldn’t cross that space, and he couldn’t cross that space, would be no help.
“You can’t help, Mo.”
He didn’t reply.
Suddenly, an idea hit me, I sat up and looked across the moonlit room to the big body covering my couch.
“You need to ask Hawk to put someone else on me so we can move this along.”
He did not move, except his mouth.
“Not gonna happen.”
“Mo—”
“Not. Gonna. Happen.”
I shut up.
I’d never heard him sound like that. His tone brooked no argument, none whatsoever, in a way that even I knew I couldn’t argue with him, and I could argue with anybody.
“I’m on you,” he stated.
“I know,” I said quietly.
“No one but me.”
Another thought occurred to me, one I did not like.
“You know, this isn’t woman-falling-for-her-bodyguard syndrome, honey,” I told him. “It’s Lottie-falling-for-Mo syndrome. I’m not gonna get attached to some other guy on your crew.”
He was again silent but even if I couldn’t see his face, I felt him communicating.
Strongly.
However, considering I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t know what he was saying.
So I called, “Mo?”
“You’re fallin’ for me?”
Now his voice was low and tight.
Uh-oh.
Too soon?
“Well…uh—”
“Stop talking, Lottie.”
I shut my mouth.
“It isn’t about that,” he said.
“So what’s it about?”
“No one’s on you, but me.”
“I know, you said that, but if we—”
In a surge, he sat up.
I again shut up.
“I’ll give you something,” he declared.
Oh God.
I hoped it was fingering me to an orgasm.
Then I could give him a handjob, something I was relatively certain I could do at the same time looking out for a bad guy so I could warn Mo so he could neutralize him before getting a bullet in his head.
That said, if his member was as big as the rest of him, that might not be possible, not because I’d have to concentrate, but because I’d want to.
“I make you mine, officially,” he continued, “no one ever has you again, Lottie, but me.”
Chills slid over my skin at the same time my eyes got hot.
I never would have thought it, but what he said was way better than any orgasm in the history of time.
And that answered my earlier question.
What I said was not too soon.
“Are you understanding me?” he asked.
“Yes, Mo,” I whispered.
I’d be his.
I’d be his to love (hopefully), treasure (hopefully)…
And protect.
No one else’s.
Ever again.
But he was starting now.
“Now go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, all soft.
I loved it when he let himself call me “baby.” It didn’t happen often, in fact, not since our Come to Jesus.
That was my first “sweetheart.”
I’d never forget it.
Not ever.
I settled back into bed, pulling the covers over me.
I didn’t watch but I did hear soft noises from the cushions as he settled back to the couch.
It took a while before I said into the dark, “I hope it’s one of the guys from tonight.”
“Me too, baby. Now please, go to sleep.”
It was the please that got me.
I closed my eyes.
And with Mo watching over me, keeping me safe, I drifted off.