Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
First, I loved that he asked.
Second, his voice coming to me from ten feet away when I couldn’t cross that space, and he couldn’t cross that space, would be no help.
“You can’t help, Mo.”
He didn’t reply.
Suddenly, an idea hit me, I sat up and looked across the moonlit room to the big body covering my couch.
“You need to ask Hawk to put someone else on me so we can move this along.”
He did not move, except his mouth.
“Not gonna happen.”
“Mo—”
“Not. Gonna. Happen.”
I shut up.
I’d never heard him sound like that. His tone brooked no argument, none whatsoever, in a way that even I knew I couldn’t argue with him, and I could argue with anybody.
“I’m on you,” he stated.
“I know,” I said quietly.
“No one but me.”
Another thought occurred to me, one I did not like.
“You know, this isn’t woman-falling-for-her-bodyguard syndrome, honey,” I told him. “It’s Lottie-falling-for-Mo syndrome. I’m not gonna get attached to some other guy on your crew.”
He was again silent but even if I couldn’t see his face, I felt him communicating.
Strongly.
However, considering I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t know what he was saying.
So I called, “Mo?”
“You’re fallin’ for me?”
Now his voice was low and tight.
Uh-oh.
Too soon?
“Well…uh—”
“Stop talking, Lottie.”
I shut my mouth.
“It isn’t about that,” he said.
“So what’s it about?”
“No one’s on you, but me.”
“I know, you said that, but if we—”
In a surge, he sat up.
I again shut up.
“I’ll give you something,” he declared.
Oh God.
I hoped it was fingering me to an orgasm.
Then I could give him a handjob, something I was relatively certain I could do at the same time looking out for a bad guy so I could warn Mo so he could neutralize him before getting a bullet in his head.
That said, if his member was as big as the rest of him, that might not be possible, not because I’d have to concentrate, but because I’d want to.
“I make you mine, officially,” he continued, “no one ever has you again, Lottie, but me.”
Chills slid over my skin at the same time my eyes got hot.
I never would have thought it, but what he said was way better than any orgasm in the history of time.
And that answered my earlier question.
What I said was not too soon.
“Are you understanding me?” he asked.
“Yes, Mo,” I whispered.
I’d be his.
I’d be his to love (hopefully), treasure (hopefully)…
And protect.
No one else’s.
Ever again.
But he was starting now.
“Now go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, all soft.
I loved it when he let himself call me “baby.” It didn’t happen often, in fact, not since our Come to Jesus.
That was my first “sweetheart.”
I’d never forget it.
Not ever.
I settled back into bed, pulling the covers over me.
I didn’t watch but I did hear soft noises from the cushions as he settled back to the couch.
It took a while before I said into the dark, “I hope it’s one of the guys from tonight.”
“Me too, baby. Now please, go to sleep.”
It was the please that got me.
I closed my eyes.
And with Mo watching over me, keeping me safe, I drifted off.
And slept like a baby.
CHAPTER 8
PIECE OF CAKE
Mo
The next night, standing backstage, eyes scanning the crowd during Lottie’s last set, Mo tried to control his thoughts that were on the fact none of the guys they’d tagged last night was their guy.
And his thoughts were on that because they were also on the most recent letter they got.
The ugliest.
The most troubling.
The one that was delivered to Smithie Monday and included the news that the guy knew all about Mo, and that Mo was going to be cleansed himself, this being executed, as in made dead for “consorting with the soiled.”
The letter that also shared the members of Hawk’s crew who were supposed to be doing drive-bys and randomly keeping an eye on Lottie’s house while he was inside keeping an eye on Lottie, as well as Mo when he was out with Lottie, had missed this guy somewhere along the line.
The letter that had Mo so tweaked, he was close to having to admit that to Hawk, this being right before he shared he was taking Lottie to Bali.
All these thoughts clashed with all his thoughts about Lottie, and all his responses—mentally, emotionally and physically—that were making it nearly impossible to do his job.
The way she stepped in with Carla being the most recent. Not only getting her to go to the emergency room, getting her mom to look after the woman’s children, and also her chat with all the girls that night, after learning Carla was out for at least five days, probably more like ten.
They were taking a collection.
Carla was on paid leave.
But she wouldn’t feel the loss of her tips.
And finally, Lottie saying to Dominique, who’d brought in Lottie’s first take of tips from her first set, “Everything I get tonight goes into the envelope for Carla.”