Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
My gaze met his.
“I mean, I know what movie you’ll pick, I know what to get you to eat, I know what you drink, I know what you’re thinking most of the time…”
“This is true,” I agreed.
“But with you, instead of that being boring, it’s information I want and need more of.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “I love correcting other people who think they know more than I do about you.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew that because I grew up with a father who put no importance on me, that I constantly sought validation. I craved being special, being liked, being loved. I was a pleaser. I needed that external praise to feel worthy. Lang didn’t need any of that. He was not a pleaser in any way. All his motivation, his purpose, was internally driven. It had been instilled in him when he was young how valuable he was. And now, suddenly, because he had chosen me to be his friend, pulled me into his life, his eyes on me were the only ones that mattered. Him being the authority on me, that always made me deliriously happy.
“Also,” he began, and I could hear how thready his breath was. “Okay, see, I really dislike it when you give people—like guys trying to pick you up—your attention. I hate that, actually.”
“You hate it?” I loved the way his hands had tightened on my hips.
“I like your focus to be on me.”
“I feel the same,” I made clear.
“I just don’t want you to think I could ever get bored.”
“All right, then. I won’t.”
He nodded and let me go, but he took hold of my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and tugging gently to get me moving.
Falling into step, we were both quiet.
“I want you to know,” Lang said eventually, “that unlike most people, I always want to hear what you think.”
“About what?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“And I feel the same.” I eased him close, still holding his hand, kissing his jaw, bumping against him.
I had seen Lang kiss women. Sometimes it was mere luck. I would walk around a corner or come into a room, and other times, I looked for him and caught his lean-in. The thing was, every time I’d seen him lock lips with someone, he was gentle. Even when things heated, the women were the ones who grabbed him greedily, possessively. He was never the one who pushed, who instigated.
But now, his hand rose to my throat, and once there, tightened. It didn’t hurt, but there was no room to move or pull back. He had me. I opened for the kiss because his tongue was there, pressing fast, wanting in, and I had no idea I was so close to a wall until I was shoved up against one. His mouth on mine was demanding, but the kisses I returned were no less mauling. I was lost in the taste of him, in the sensuous slide of his tongue over mine, stroking, tangling, and his hands now both on my abdomen, holding me still, making sure I couldn’t move.
I slid my hands up his chest to his shoulders and then slowly leaned into him, coiling my arms around his neck as he eased me off the wall enough so he could wrap me up.
It felt both amazing and normal, like I’d won the lottery, yet this would be our day-to-day as well if we could both trust in a future together.
SIX
Iwould have kissed him forever, but at that moment someone came around the corner and clipped us. Not hard, more like they were taking the turn to come around the alley, had stopped, maybe even leaned back a moment, and then when they moved to take off, having not seen us, got tangled up.
“Sorry, sorry,” a young woman said frantically, trying to get by. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
“Wait,” Lang said, sounding hoarse, taking hold of her arms. “What’s wrong?”
As she tried to pull free of his grip, I stepped in close to him and asked her, using my slowest drawl, who she was running from, at the same time showing her my badge.
Since she didn’t look relieved, I was worried.
Lang cleared his throat. “We’re federal marshals,” he explained. “You have nothing to be worried about. Let us help you.”
“My grandmother…we are working on getting her citizenship.”
He nodded. “We’re not interested in her status, just helping you.”
She glanced at me, then back to Lang.
“The men said if we told anyone what happens in our building, ICE would come and take everyone away.”
“That’s a lie,” he declared, brows furrowed. “But again, we’re marshals. We don’t do that. We don’t ever do that unless your grandmother is a very bad person.”
“She’s a wonderful person.”
He smiled then, and I saw her calm. Everyone did when Lang was looking at them like that. “I have no doubt.”