Two hours later, Avery is safely nestled beneath the Egyptian cotton sheets in her bedroom at my apartment. She asked me to wait in her room while she showered and got changed for bed. Normally, I’d run the other way at being trapped in a bedroom with her—it would test any man’s restraint, but given the fact that she was visibly trembling and it’s a comfortable twenty-three degrees in here, I couldn’t say no if I tried.
I lean against the doorframe, deliberately keeping the distance between us, because as much as I know that distraction nearly cost us earlier, I can’t trust myself not to let it happen again. Not when I know she’s only wearing a silk slip beneath those covers. And not when she’s looking at me like I’m the only man in this world.
Devoid of make-up, she’s every bit as beautiful as she is with it. More so, in fact. Her blonde, lustrous locks fan out across the pillow as she readjusts herself beneath the covers.
Her blue eyes are dark with uncertainty. ‘Will this ever be over?’
‘It will, I promise.’ And as much as I want that day to come soon, I’m glad she’s here under my roof. Even if she does awaken a ravenous, irrational need that is frankly terrifying and exhilarating.
Being near her is like standing too close to a flame—knowing I’ll get burned but unable to step away from the warmth. For years I’ve existed in a self-imposed frozen state, emotions locked down, senses dulled. Tactical. Strategic. Safe. But Avery… she makes my pulse race in a way it hasn’t since Sarah. Makes my skin hypersensitive when she enters a room. I hate it. I crave it. This sudden, visceral reminder that I’m still human beneath the armour I’ve constructed.
The professional in me knows this is a catastrophic breach of protocol.
The soldier knows attachment is vulnerability.
The man who buried his heart in the desert knows exactly how this story ends—in blood and regret.
Yet here I stand, watching her breathe, memorising the shape of her lips, and wondering what kind of man I might have been if I’d met her before Sarah, before the hostages, before I became this hollow, dangerous version of myself. Avery makes me feel alive again—and that terrifies me more than any threat I’ve ever faced. Because being alive means having something to lose.
I shift from one foot to the other. I should let her sleep. I have work to do, starting with a background check on Austin Falcon, then hacking Kenzi and Sophia’s phones to see if they spoke to or texted anyone of interest today. Someone who they might have mentioned in passing that they were meeting Avery. Thomson and Walsh are currently scanning the CCTV cameras on the streets surrounding Elixir and surrounding this building, but I’m not hopeful on that front.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, blinking hard. Her thick eyelashes sweep over her delicate cheekbones.
‘What for?’ I step closer, drawn to her like a goddamn magnet.
I’m not used to this version of Avery. I’m used to the bolshy, in-your-face-don’t-tell-me-what-I-can-and-can’t-do version. Tonight, she’s swathed in a vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings.
‘For dragging you to Elixir. You said it wasn’t safe. I thought I knew better.’ She sighs.
‘I understand your frustration at being cooped up here with me, but for now, it’s for the best. No nightclubs. No bars. We stick to your schedule until this is over, okay?’
She makes a salute sign. ‘Yes, sir.’
Those two words shoot straight to my dick.
‘No variation from routine.’ I bristle. ‘You’ve had your fun.’
‘I’ll admit, goading you started out as a bit of fun.’ Her eyes latch on to mine and she hesitates for a long beat. ‘But now… I can’t help it.’
I cock my head to the side in question.
‘Have you ever wanted something so badly that it’s all you can think about? Like thoughts of it literally ravage your body?’
‘You want to get out of this apartment that badly?’ I scrub a hand over my jawline. I tried my best to make this room nice for her. When I knew she was coming to stay, I had Annabelle go shopping for the softest sheets. I had her stock the fridge with all the foods I saw Avery enjoy in St. Barths. I even ordered in her favourite brand of coffee and that mint chocolate ice cream she loves. I know I’m not exactly fun to spend time with, but fuck, I didn’t think things were that bad.
‘You misunderstand me.’ She wets her lips. ‘I don’t want to get out of the apartment. What I want is you.’
My heart beats double fast in my chest. She glimpsed the darkness in me, even if she hasn’t fully processed it. On some level, she knows what I am, and she still wants me. Every bit of my body begs me to move closer. To close the distance between us, wrap my arms around her chest and give into this thing between us, but I can’t—for so many reasons.
Every time I touch her, I miss a chance to catch the creep who wants her for himself.
And even if I do catch him, Avery will never be mine. She belongs to a different world—a world in the limelight, a world I can’t share her with.
And I promised myself after Sarah, I’d never let another woman in again. I’d never be weak again.
But realistically, I’ve already epically failed on that level because Avery has clawed her way under my skin. There’s fuck all I can do about it. Except try to keep my hands off her.
‘Avery…’ I sigh.
‘I know, I know…’ she shrugs. ‘But can I ask you one favour?’
She could pretty much ask me for anything right now, and I wouldn’t be able to say no. She has me by the balls and the only person who doesn’t know it is her. Thomson’s exact words to me earlier were, ‘that’s your future wife’. Sentimental, delusional bastard. But yeah, in another life, one where Avery didn’t parade around naked for a job and I didn’t feel like murdering every man who looked at her… I might not be as quick to rule it out.
‘I’m not having sex with you.’ Not because I don’t want to, but because it terrifies me how much I do want to.
She rolls her eyes, but not nearly with as much sass as usual. ‘Will you stay with me for a while until I fall asleep?’ Her voice cracks with need and it splits open my chest.
My gaze drifts to the chaise lounge to the left of her bed.
‘No funny business, I promise,’ she says.
I exhale heavily, take off my tie and toss it onto the vanity station littered with every cosmetic known to man.
Just when I’m about to sink into the plush velvet, there’s a scratching noise at the door. Every hair on my body pricks. Avery bolts upright in bed, clutching the covers over her chest.
The realistic part of me knows there’s no one in my apartment bar my men, who I trust with my life. But the part that’s on edge, unsettled after this evening’s events, can’t be sure. I grab my gun from my pocket and push the door handle down slowly. It bursts open and a ginger furball darts in between my legs, scurries across the room and leaps onto the bed.
I exhale heavily as Avery squeals in delight, lifting her cat into her arms as he butts his head against hers.
‘Fucking cat.’ I kick the door closed and drop into the chaise lounge.
‘We both know you love my pussy.’ Avery’s eyes latch onto mine, a hint of devilment flashing through that vulnerability.
‘Go to sleep.’
‘But I didn’t get my three questions today.’
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I just have to say one word—no. Two tiny letters. One consonant. One vowel. But as usual, I just can’t bring myself to annunciate them. ‘Make them quick.’
She snuggles into the pillows, readjusting herself with a thoughtful expression on her face. Oh god, she’s liable to come out with anything. And if it’s “can you get me off again?” how the fuck am I going to say no?
‘How did you end up in security?’
So, she’s going for the psychoanalysis route. Here we go again. I take off my cufflinks, place them on the vanity station, and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. Her eyes follow the movement with a hint of hunger. ‘I joined the military when I was eighteen, much to my parents’ dismay.’
She sits quietly, waiting for me to elaborate.
‘They’d rather I went to college like my brothers. I didn’t have the patience for that. I wanted to see the world. My grandfather was in the military before the distillery came to fruition. He always told me the best education you can get is on tour. He wasn’t wrong.’ I crack my knuckles, forcing back the memories.
Sarah.
My final tour.
The hostages.
The blood.
Multicoloured pixel-perfect images, as clear in my head today as the day they happened.
Avery stares, quietly, drinking me in.
‘The skills I learnt weren’t exactly appropriate for banking, or investments, so when I got home, I channelled them into an area they were appropriate for–security–and started my own business.’
‘Makes sense.’ Avery rubs a hand over the ginger furball. Lucky bastard.
‘Try and sleep.’ I tell her.
‘But I still have two more questions.’
‘Go on then.’ Who knew Avery Williams would turn out to be one of the few people I could talk to all night? Still, I have work to do.
‘What do your tattoos mean?’ Her eyes linger on my neck.
‘They mean my parents disapprove of me,’ I snort.
‘That’s a cop out if ever I heard one.’ She tuts.
‘Final question, then you need to sleep.’
‘Fine.’ She rolls her eyes at me. ‘Why won’t you let me touch you?’ Her gaze drops to my crotch. A flicker of something like hurt flashes through them.
Does she seriously think I don’t want her?
Does she have no idea how I feel about her?
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. If I tell her, she may never give up. If I don’t she’ll live with that uncertainty forever.
‘The truth is sweetheart, if I let you touch me, you’d take more than I’m prepared to give.’
‘What does that mean?’ Her eyes snap to mine.
‘You’re all out of questions, princess.’ A smug smile splits open my face. ‘Goodnight.’
