Read Online Savage Secrets (Titan #6) by Cristin Harber - Free Book Online

good. A bumper sticker was needed: waterboarding saves lives. Whatever. She wasn’t an awful person, just a product of her environment and her obsession.
    Still holding Rocco’s hand in hers, a respite upon him…
    He groaned and flinched away from an imaginary assault. Caterina held tight to their connection, refusing to let go, and his moan made her chest seize up. She hummed again and decided not to let go of him until this ride was over.
    Being as careful as she could, she crawled onto the bed and leaned against the headboard. As if his strength had become that of the baby whose song she’d stolen, he was easy to move and reposition. His head in her lap. Her hand stroked his hair, his neck and shoulder.
    “Well, Mr. Locke. Not how I pictured our first time in bed.” Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. “And I hope it’s not our last.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    The starched pillow case rubbed against his cheek as Rocco worked his jaw. All his muscles were tired, and he felt as though he’d been sucker-punched. But that hadn’t been the case, not if he was in this hotel room, his safety zone. It hadn’t even been a day working with Caterina before he ran out the door, and if she was smart, she’d have called the whole thing off. Jared would bust his ass, and Rocco would have some explaining to do.
    The alarm clock was on the floor, reading a little after midnight. It’d been one hell of a day. Red eye to London. Met up with Caterina, agreed to be hitched. Moved into the honeymoon suite, and tripped out of his mind. He’d been out longer than usual, his jam packed day probably contributing to the time he’d been knocked out.
    He rolled over to his back and stared at the ceiling. Man, now that the end had arrived, he didn’t want this job to be over with. Fancy clothes and the lack of C-4 had initially put him off, but it’d been a roller coaster of a day and he didn’t want the ride to stop.
    So he wouldn’t let it. Get up. Get moving .
    Rocco looked at his sock-covered feet and the crumpled blanket next to him. Great . He was getting proficient at hallucinating, to the point he was making himself comfortable. His shoes were by the bed. He got up, slipped them on, and grabbed the only remaining bottle of water. He groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and hit the head. A few minutes later, he was on his way back to the honeymoon suite, where his bags were likely packed and waiting. His head pounded, and he was hungry enough to eat an entire box of MREs. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, front and back, Rocco came up empty handed. No keycard. Only his phone.
    He leaned against the door, feeling like the worst husband ever—worst fake husband ever—and pressed his forehead against the jamb. What would he even say?
    “Caterina.” It wasn’t loud enough for someone next to him to hear, much less an angry Spanish female ready to slice his balls off on the other side of the door. He knocked, almost scared she would hear him and then the end would begin.
    No answer.
    This time, he knocked again. She should’ve heard that. No answer.
    “Cat. I’m sorry.”
    Look at him, knocking and apologizing outside the door of a honeymoon suite. No way was he qualified for marriage.
    “Cat. Let me in.”
    A bellboy or housekeeping or someone walked by, eyeing him. How pathetic.
    The hotel staffer stopped a few feet away. “Are you okay, sir?”
    What ? Distrustful of anyone, Rocco nodded and went back to staring at the door.
    “Are you…sick?”
    Guess he looked worse than he thought. “No, thanks, though. Just locked out. I’ll head downstairs in a minute for a new keycard.” Yup, this moment defined pathetic. He’d fucked up his fake marriage and was locked out of the room before being handed his bags and booted out. No freakin’ problem. He would just book it back down to five twenty-one, catch up on some Man vs. Wild and see what his boy Bear Grylls had to say. That guy was British. It had to be on some