Page 31 of Destroyer
4
THE MISUNDERSTANDING
SYDNEY
Sydney had the biggest crush on Tank. Bigger than big. Giant-sized.
More than his rugged good looks, it was hiseverything. She’d never been around anyone like him and she couldn’t seem to get herself together. Yes, she was eating—kind of—and yes, she was talking—more like auto-pilot speak—but her thoughts were running together and being interrupted by the constant ache to stare into his eyes. She wasdyingto touch him. Run her fingers down his bulging triceps or through his sexy blond hair. Place her hand on his tattered jeans, grab his thick, muscular thigh, and squeeze. Then, mount him like a bucking bronco and have herself somerealfun.
She’d been chasing bad guys for so long, she had no idea what it was like to be near a good one.
Except for the boogeyman prayer at dinner. That was a little out there.
Sparks flew as she stared into his bedroom eyes, but shefound the overwhelming confidence thundering off him so completely intoxicating.
He’s flat-out addictive.
She’d felt this way when she’d met him, but now, it was better. Stronger and more intense.Maybe because we’re alone. She glanced at his mouth. His full lips and that sexy scruff of beard and mustache were like a magnet pulling her closer.
“Who did I text if it wasn’t you?” he asked, extracting her from her hypnotic state.
“What number did you type in?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” he replied. “You typed your number into my phone.”
“Right. She lifted his phone, re-read the texts. “Pull up my name in your address book.”
When she handed him his phone, their fingers brushed. The electricity shot up her arm while heat flamed her chest, rising through her neck, and into her cheeks.
“Is it warm in here?” she asked, trying to sound chill.
Fortunately, he was laser-focused on the task and didn’t hear her.
“Hot in here?” he asked, peering over. “Yeah, it’s like the Sahara.”
Then, he glanced at her mouth before his gaze drifted back to her eyes. He was checking her out so hard, she started smiling.
“This is intense,” she murmured.
He chuffed out a laugh. “It’s something, all right.”
She dragged her attention from his handsome face to his phone. “Wait, that’s not my number.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
She snort-laughed.
“Yeah, you got it going on,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me your number andI’llput it in?”
All she heard was, “I’ll put it in.”
“Mmmmm,” she murmured.
Ohgod, I did not just do that.
Biting back a smile, she recited her number and he made the change. When finished, he said, “Where’s your phone?”
“On the counter stool. In my black bag.”
