Page 27 of Trigger Happy

Everything about my life is a secret, so I want to be loved out loud. I don’t want some wyd message masquerading as romance.

He shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would consider a you up? text romantic. That’s not the point.”

“That must be why your relationship with Katya didn’t last.” I walk past him to stare out at the lake sparkling beneath the morning rays, already brainstorming contingency plans. “How about we say we met at a mutual friend’s wedding? You couldn’t take your eyes off my Badgley Mischka ombré tulle gown, and the rest is history.”

I turn back to find him staring into the depths of his pumpkin spice latte, and my chest twinges. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up Katya, but now I want to know what she did to put that wrecked look in his eyes.

“Are you paying attention?” I say.

His head jerks up and that brooding scowl slides back into place. “Bradley who?”

“Badgley Mischka,” I repeat, facing the mountains again as I sip my coffee. “And you were completely smitten. The rest is history.”

“Two problems,” he says, swallowing his toast. “One, you and I don’t have mutual friends, and two… Do I look like the kind of man who gets smitten?”

I take in his giant shoulders, the corded veins lining his neck, and jagged scar slicing his brow. I give myself a mental pat on the back for that one.

“Yes,” I finally decide. “I think you look very smitten.”

He snorts. “Fine. I was smitten. I liked your Bradley dress—”

“Badgley Mischka,” I correct. “We’ll work on it. And one last thing.” I spin around to face him, only to jolt back when I realize he’s less than an inch away. I’m tall, but he’s a behemoth.

I raise my chin anyway. “We keep this professional, which means you don’t touch me, you don’t flirt with me, you don’t so much as wink unless it’s to keep up appearances.”

An eclipse falls across his dark eyes, and there’s something simmering in those black depths. “That won’t be a problem. I’d rather fuck a cactus than sleep with you.”

There’s a short, hot stab behind my ribs. I flinch without meaning to and push out a clipped laugh. “Good. I’d rather not have to fake an orgasm.”

I’ve been faking things my whole life—names, passports, résumés—so I’d rather not have to yell out yes, right there! when I should be drawing a map of the female anatomy.

His jaw rocks as he moves closer. “If you’re faking it, then you’re fucking the wrong men.”

My skin buzzes, and that tingling melts into heat the further it travels down my body. I notice all the places we aren’t touching. “Well, all the good guys are either taken, dead, or have a weird blood play fetish, so I’d rather be alone than settle.”

Plus, dating criminals is exhausting. They’re even worse than normal guys because they all want bondage or hardcore spanking or captor-captive roleplay. I tie people up for my day job, I don’t want to bring that into the bedroom.

Suddenly, he backs me up, caging me against the barn door window, but he’s careful not to touch me.

“Don’t you miss it?” he rasps out, grazing my ear. He’s only doing this to throw me off-balance, I know it.

“What?” I say, a hitch in my breath. I’m close enough to make out the rings of amber around his irises.

He bends toward me, stopping an inch away, and the little flurry of his breath makes my stomach flip. “When a man pushes into you as slow as he can, just ’cause he wants to hear you begging for him.”

My god.

A quiet moan slips free, and his pupils dilate at the sound. His fists dig into the glass window, but he still doesn’t touch me. I almost wish he would, only so I could have a reason to push him away.

Sometimes I do miss it. The weight of a body moving over mine, the heat of tangled breaths, that can’t-breathe, can’t-think, all-consuming need. The edge of Lawton’s lip tilts up like he knows exactly what I’m imagining, like he knows me, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing me.

“You’d be the one begging for more,” I retort, but the words are too breathless.

He tips his head down, meeting my glare head-on. “I don’t beg for anyone, so I sure as hell wouldn’t beg for you.”

Another pinch behind my rib cage.

I shoulder him away. “As if I need a man to please me. I have everything I need in my nightstand.”