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)
“We’re gonna work it out, Mo,” she assured him.
“It’ll break me, you get shot of me.”
Her body turned to stone at his admission, her face did too, and she stared at him.
“You’re a good woman. A class act. Smart. Funny. Love your nephews and show it. They love you back, so much, and you make it safe, so they feel free to show it. You got sass. You got talent. You believe in what you do and go all out to be the best at it there is. You’re together. You’re kind to your friends. And you can cook. I want a shot at that, Lottie. I wanna find out how much better you can get. But I already have a clue, and havin’ that clue, I know, you give it, then take it away, it won’t be like Tammy. It’ll break me. Now, knowin’ that, where you at?”
She didn’t wait even a beat.
She ordered, “Call Hawk and tell him to work faster.”
Mo no longer had the urge to spank her.
He had other urges and he had to lock himself down in order to fight them.
It was then he found out she’d take hold of any opportunity she was given.
Even going after what she wanted when he was weak.
“What happened in Afghanistan, baby?”
“Lost two brothers and killed people who were probably civilians.”
And it was then he learned she went after what she wanted so she could give him what he needed.
“You holding on with all of that?” she asked gently.
“This is why I keep busy.”
“And why you only sleep four hours a night.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Mo,” she murmured, both words heavy with the weight of compassion he saw in her eyes. “I can’t touch you, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay, I can’t touch you now. But I can promise I’m gonna take care of you, Mo.”
“That’s a tall order, Lottie.”
And she just had a piece of Afghanistan.
She had no idea about all the rest.
“I’m goal-oriented, baby,” she said quietly.
Mo stood still, eyes on her, and breathed.
“Do you need to hand me off to another one of Hawk’s men?” she offered.
Oh, hell no.
“No one is on you but me,” he growled.
She nodded immediately.
Then she smiled.
Not victoriously.
Gratefully.
“You wanna watch TV?” she asked.
“Sure,” he answered.
“Game’s on,” she said.
“Whatever,” he muttered.
“A movie?”
“Works for me.”
“Mo?”
“What?”
“Thank you, honey.”
“You need to stop it, baby,” he said, going soft.
She nodded, a lot and fast. “Right. Right. All professional.”
Like she could pull that off.
But at least she’d have a mind.
And after that…
He’d let himself think of what was after that when it was actually after.
“I’ll make popcorn,” she said.
“I’ll do a perimeter check.”
She smiled huge at him.
Huge and happy.
So…
Right.
When all was said and done, he might come out a winner for once, or he might be ground to dust.
But he knew right then it didn’t matter which way that broke.
Just as long and as much as humanly possible in the meantime, Mo had a shot to make Lottie happy.
Chapter Seven
Incremental
Lottie
The lights went dark.
I rushed off the stage and Mo was there, throwing my robe over my shoulders.
He smelled good. Clean. Like soap and man.
He’d had his shower and was back to me before my set ended.
I wanted to pounce on him.
Instead, I shoved my hands through the arms and barely had my fingers to the sides to pull the robe closed before his big hand had a powerful grip on my upper arm and he was practically dragging me down the steps to the side hall.
It was Tuesday night.
Suffice it to say, Mo knowing where it was heading between us after the threat was over, and me knowing where this was going, we were impatient for it to get done.
But Mo being all that was Mo, his impatience, like everything else about him, manifested itself in much larger ways.
The man was a ticking time bomb.
This partly had to do with him wanting to get to know me better, and it was hard (very hard) to try to keep things casual, keep a distance, be professional, when we were together twenty-four hours a day.
We cooked together. We ate together. We watched TV together. And after putting a sheet up over the windows (something I did not like, but getting what I got after, that being hanging with Mo, I was okay with it) Mo lounged on the couch opposite mine in my bedroom with his eyes closed while I read. Even with eyes closed, I knew he was awake, looking Zen (and insanely fuckable), but he was also undoubtedly alert.
We talked.
We had no choice but to get to know each other better and I knew I liked what I got (even though he wasn’t much of a talker, and as the days went by, he got quieter and quieter due to his patience waning more and more).
I also knew he liked what he got.
From when we first met, Mo didn’t need words to communicate. And the increase in dancing silver eyes and the addition of soft looks he’d give me…