away with one kiss.
He was pissed. But…
Torn. As he drew closer, contagious heat leaked from his gaze. Tank wanted to play as much as I did.
I met his lips. He was soft and gentle, stroking my neck without jarring my arms. I couldn’t help but melt into him.
Gentle was new. So was breakfast. No guy had ever cooked for me. Ever.
“Anything?” Tank pulled back.
“Ah…” Shit. A flash of embarrassment warmed my cheeks. I hadn’t even tried to fix his powers. “One more time.” I pulled his energy from the depths of my soul and managed to keep hold of it as he bent for a second kiss.
—can’t keep doing this. She—
Tank’s thoughts flashed into my head, but the power wouldn’t go back. Was it me? His breath, his scent, lulled me and I slipped deeper into his consciousness.
—can’t fall for her. Damn it. Neither of us want—
What? I bit his lower lip.
I’d force the power back. There wouldn’t be any falling happening. As I pushed, fresh pain stabbed my temples. I jerked away.
“Shit.” Tank pulled back and strode to the other side of the breakfast bar. He leaned over, elbows on the counter as his knuckles whitened against his scalp.
“We have to keep trying.” My voice came out breathy. And he was supposed to be torn? I wanted him hard, but I didn’t want him in my life. He was a hero. I scraped by on the edges of his world. We weren’t so much oil and vinegar as a lit match and napalm. If we kept getting closer, buildings would go down. Hell, whole city blocks.
“We have to keep trying,” Tank agreed. “But we can’t confuse this for—”
“Whoa.” I held up my hands. “Aren’t you supposed to be the guy?” I was kidding, but his words had sparked an annoying twinge of disappointment. I didn’t want to want him, but I wanted him to want me?
Yup. Torn like jeans in an ’80s music video.
I grabbed a slice of bacon and hopped from the stool. “I’ll shower and hit the station. You want to come with?”
“You’re up for it?” Tank asked.
“Nope.” My body throbbed, and I suspected a tiny woodpecker was nesting in my temples, but I needed out of the apartment, and we needed supervision. “But I’ll take some horse pills and rough it out.” I’d be bedridden if I lived my life waiting to be one hundred percent.
Though bedridden wouldn’t be so bad if Tank were there too…
I jerked. Bad Jenny.
A few choice mental images wouldn’t shake away. I headed to the shower and slammed the water on cold.
Chapter Seven
I sighed. I’d done a lot of that the past two days. Jenny was a fire I couldn’t stay away from. I had to keep poking, adding more logs…
I needed the burn unit on speed dial.
She’d looked better than I expected at breakfast. Almost well. If not for a few unconscious winces, she might’ve fooled me.
And that fucking T-shirt. No pants. No shorts. Just a pair of bare pink knees I wanted wrapped around my hips. I could only pray she’d been wearing panties. Except then I’d be thinking about her panties.
I couldn’t decide if she was trying to seduce me or if her personal danger threshold was that low. Maybe I just wasn’t a threat. I suspected the latter.
She’d barely touched her food and she was going to down a fistful of pills. She’d probably chase them with the flask of vodka she kept under her pillow. Her life was a slow-motion train wreck, and I couldn’t back away. All I could do was worry.
I tossed my apron over a stool. When did I become the mother hen?
The guys couldn’t find out about this. Ever. Ruin was frothing for Jenny’s blood and the others weren’t far behind him. Only the fact that they thought we were hooking up had kept them from storming the apartment.
But they hadn’t found it yet. Neither had the paparazzi, though Temptress coverage had eclipsed Afghanistan and the presidential election. People should’ve been knocking down her door, and as a secret identity, Jenny Ray was about as effective as the
He was pissed. But…
Torn. As he drew closer, contagious heat leaked from his gaze. Tank wanted to play as much as I did.
I met his lips. He was soft and gentle, stroking my neck without jarring my arms. I couldn’t help but melt into him.
Gentle was new. So was breakfast. No guy had ever cooked for me. Ever.
“Anything?” Tank pulled back.
“Ah…” Shit. A flash of embarrassment warmed my cheeks. I hadn’t even tried to fix his powers. “One more time.” I pulled his energy from the depths of my soul and managed to keep hold of it as he bent for a second kiss.
—can’t keep doing this. She—
Tank’s thoughts flashed into my head, but the power wouldn’t go back. Was it me? His breath, his scent, lulled me and I slipped deeper into his consciousness.
—can’t fall for her. Damn it. Neither of us want—
What? I bit his lower lip.
I’d force the power back. There wouldn’t be any falling happening. As I pushed, fresh pain stabbed my temples. I jerked away.
“Shit.” Tank pulled back and strode to the other side of the breakfast bar. He leaned over, elbows on the counter as his knuckles whitened against his scalp.
“We have to keep trying.” My voice came out breathy. And he was supposed to be torn? I wanted him hard, but I didn’t want him in my life. He was a hero. I scraped by on the edges of his world. We weren’t so much oil and vinegar as a lit match and napalm. If we kept getting closer, buildings would go down. Hell, whole city blocks.
“We have to keep trying,” Tank agreed. “But we can’t confuse this for—”
“Whoa.” I held up my hands. “Aren’t you supposed to be the guy?” I was kidding, but his words had sparked an annoying twinge of disappointment. I didn’t want to want him, but I wanted him to want me?
Yup. Torn like jeans in an ’80s music video.
I grabbed a slice of bacon and hopped from the stool. “I’ll shower and hit the station. You want to come with?”
“You’re up for it?” Tank asked.
“Nope.” My body throbbed, and I suspected a tiny woodpecker was nesting in my temples, but I needed out of the apartment, and we needed supervision. “But I’ll take some horse pills and rough it out.” I’d be bedridden if I lived my life waiting to be one hundred percent.
Though bedridden wouldn’t be so bad if Tank were there too…
I jerked. Bad Jenny.
A few choice mental images wouldn’t shake away. I headed to the shower and slammed the water on cold.
Chapter Seven
I sighed. I’d done a lot of that the past two days. Jenny was a fire I couldn’t stay away from. I had to keep poking, adding more logs…
I needed the burn unit on speed dial.
She’d looked better than I expected at breakfast. Almost well. If not for a few unconscious winces, she might’ve fooled me.
And that fucking T-shirt. No pants. No shorts. Just a pair of bare pink knees I wanted wrapped around my hips. I could only pray she’d been wearing panties. Except then I’d be thinking about her panties.
I couldn’t decide if she was trying to seduce me or if her personal danger threshold was that low. Maybe I just wasn’t a threat. I suspected the latter.
She’d barely touched her food and she was going to down a fistful of pills. She’d probably chase them with the flask of vodka she kept under her pillow. Her life was a slow-motion train wreck, and I couldn’t back away. All I could do was worry.
I tossed my apron over a stool. When did I become the mother hen?
The guys couldn’t find out about this. Ever. Ruin was frothing for Jenny’s blood and the others weren’t far behind him. Only the fact that they thought we were hooking up had kept them from storming the apartment.
But they hadn’t found it yet. Neither had the paparazzi, though Temptress coverage had eclipsed Afghanistan and the presidential election. People should’ve been knocking down her door, and as a secret identity, Jenny Ray was about as effective as the
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