Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
It’s wet out here, but not currently raining.
The mountains are covered in fresh snow.
And now that I’ve worked out some aggression, I feel better. Lena’s fine. I like having her around. But she’s just the job, and she’ll be gone soon enough. Then, I can get back to work.
I already postponed my next round of trainees by two months, just to be on the safe side, but I can do a lot remotely.
In fact, I need to get home and spend an hour in my office before dinner.
The house is still and silent when I walk inside, and for some reason, that puts my back up. I move to the pantry and press a hidden button on the inside panel, and when it opens, I pull out the Glock I have stashed there, make sure there’s a round in the chamber, and silently stalk through the house.
It’s too still.
Something’s going on.
Once the lower floor is cleared, I move to the stairs. There’s nothing out of place. No sign of struggle or forced entry.
It’s only my gut telling me that something’s off.
I take the stairs two at a time, my weapon at my side, and look in each bedroom that’s not currently being used.
Nothing.
Lena’s door is slightly ajar, and I push it open, but I don’t find her inside. She’s also not on the other side of the bed, closest to the wall. But the bathroom door is pushed most of the way closed, and the light is on.
There she is.
Silently, I back out of her room and check the laundry and my office and bedroom, and find it all clear, so I tuck the gun in the waist of my pants, at my back.
Everything’s fine.
I don’t know what set me on edge.
But when I walk past her bedroom again, a noise catches my attention. A moan.
Walk away. Get your ass out of here.
My feet move, all right, but not away from the room. My traitorous body takes me right inside it, closer to the bathroom, where the shower is running now, and I can hear throaty moans coming from inside.
Jesus fuck, this is none of your business.
But I can’t leave.
Like a goddamn creeper, I peek through the slight opening in the doorway, and there she is, in the shower. The glass door is fogged up, so I can’t see her in detail, and I wish I could see the metal in her nipples, but I can clearly tell that she has one foot up on the bench at the end of the walk-in shower, and she’s pointing that showerhead right at her pussy. Her hips move, chasing an orgasm.
Motherfucking hell, I want to be in that shower more than I want to breathe.
So I do the only thing I can do. I lock the door from the inside and slam it shut, keeping myself out.
Keeping her safe from me.
And then I storm down the hall and lock myself in my office while I jack off, leaning against my desk, imagining that I have her bent over, fucking her from behind.
Fuck.
I should have taken her up on having her reassigned.
But the thought of her leaving is unacceptable. It makes me feral.
I need to stay out of her way. Keep her safe. Do the job. Send her home.
Easy.
“I can’t.”
She’s panting, bent over, shaking her head. Covered in a sheen of sweat from head to toe, Lena rests her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. This girl never fails to amaze me. In the past week, we’ve been at the range twice, and both times, her shooting has impressed me. She’s not afraid of the handguns, and she hits the target every time.
We’re in the ring this morning, and I’ve put her through the paces, but she’s having a hard time getting out of a chokehold.
Ironic, since . . . same.
Of course, my chokehold is metaphorical.
Hers is literal.
“You’re too strong, Gideon.”
I shake my head, pacing the ring.
Since I heard her getting off in my shower a week ago, I’ve kept my distance. We work out every day, we eat meals together, but aside from that, she does her thing, and I do mine.
Her face was flaming red when I walked out of my office that day, and I simply told her to lock her door from now on.
She said nothing.
If we’re going to get through this without me being inside her, this is how it has to be. Having my arms around her while we’re sparring is torture enough.
“You can. Don’t say that shit again.”
“Stop being so moody.” She reaches for her water and takes a long sip, her throat muscles working with every swallow.
I have to look away.
“I’m not here to be your bestie. I’m here to train you.”
“Actually, I’m quite sure my mother never asked you to train me. But okay, big guy.”