“I’m good. Just can’t sleep,” I whisper, checking the time on my cell phone. Damn it, it’s three in the morning. I’ve been tossing and turning for far longer than I’d expected.
“Want to go sit out on the deck for a minute with me?” Harley moves to stand and I grab my zip-up hoodie, pulling it on and zipping it up as I step over to my bedroom door, opening it as quietly as possible. Just when I reach the living room, barely a few feet away from the sliding glass door leading out to the deck, I realize the alarm is probably set. Crap! I hadn’t considered that. Just as I’m about to head to the kitchen, resigning myself to getting a glass of water before heading back to bed, Harley goes through his little door and I notice movement out on the deck, realizing Foster’s sitting out there.
Cautiously sliding the door open and stepping on the deck, I close it softly behind me. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this. I mean, seriously. Do you ever sleep, Kavanaugh?” My tone is teasing but a part of me is serious. And maybe even a bit concerned.
He’s facing the ocean, and I can barely make out his side profile in the dim moonlight, sitting in the chair with his bare feet propped up against one of the boards of the deck’s railing. He hasn’t once looked my way so when he speaks, I’m caught off guard by his words.
“You might want to get the blue throw blanket that’s folded on top of the couch. Your legs are going to get cold out here.”
I still, glancing down at my bare legs clad in only a pair of loose fitting cotton shorts. How in the hell did he— And without looking my way? Damn creepy, former Special Ops guys.
There are traces of amusement in his voice. Like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Get the blanket, Davis. Trust me.”
Without a word, I slip inside, grab the blue throw and come back to settle in the chair beside Foster, tucking the blanket snug over my legs. He’s right—although I’m not about to tell him that—because it is pretty chilly out here with the breeze coming off the ocean.
“Told you.”
My head whips around to stare at him but his gaze remains focused in the direction of the ocean a few yards before us. “Seriously, Kavanaugh? Would you stop it with the creepy mind reading?”
He finally turns to face me and studies me intently for a moment. “Sometimes, I wish I could read your mind.” His words are spoken so gently I barely hear him. And then there’s a shift and the corners of his lips tilt up. “Pretty damn relieved you can’t read mine, though.”
Whoa. The way he says that is just… I feel like I should fan myself. Or hose myself down, maybe? Because the intense heat in his words, the way his voice dropped to something low and seductive makes my heart race. It makes me go back to a few hours earlier, recalling what happened outside my front door and then again in my kitchen.
I can’t help but think that maybe fate intervened because it knew I was heading down a path of self-destruction yet again. Even though a part of me is certain it would’ve been more fun to go down this path with Foster, I know it’s probably for the best.
Probably. Maybe. Damn it. My inner slut totally takes over at early hours of the morning.
I should probably imagine that this blanket is made of steel or something. Like a chastity belt of some sort, perhaps. With a force field that repels sexy, handsome guys who actually are knights in shining armor—without any ulterior motives, no less. Men whose smile—when they really smile—makes your heart feel as though it turns a bit mushy. Men who know how to kiss you, making you feel like they need to kiss you if it’s the last thing they do on this earth. Men who cup your ass, pull you into them, and let you feel how hard they are and—
“You need to stop looking at me like that.” Oh, shit. Had I been staring at him the entire time my thoughts had been running rampant?
Yeah. I had. Brilliant job, Noelle. You just eye-fucked the hell out of your boss.
“I’m not complaining,” Foster interrupts me from my inner scolding. “I just… Hell.” Running a hand over his face, the beginnings of his scruff create a faint rasping sound against his palm, and he exhales slowly. “I’m not feeling noble right now and when you look the way you do—all beautiful and soft—and keep looking at me like that, it’s hard to stay noble. To do the right thing.”
Redirecting his gaze back out to the ocean, his voice is gentler. “And you’ve had another traumatic experience tonight. Emotions run high for a while, and I don’t want you to do something you might regret.”
He’s right—absolutely right—because I would give anything right now to experience the closeness that comes with having sex with someone. While it might be only temporary, that closeness is so utterly tempting right now.
Following suit, I fix my gaze ahead and blow out a long breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he replies just as softly. “Just know I’m going to get to the bottom of this and ensure it ends as quickly as possible.”