She was talking crazy. Once she was his, he had no intention of letting her go. Oh, he’d thought at one time he’d walk away because she deserved a normal guy. But that’s not what was going to happen. He knew that now. Angie was his. He just had to prove that he’d be there for her no matter what. There were things he still needed to tell her, but he’d get to that. Soon.
“I’m not ever going to be done with you.”
She frowned at him. “Colt, be serious.”
“I am being serious, minette.”
“You can’t be serious. We barely know each other. I might snore. Or nag. Or any number of crazy things you’ll hate.”
“You don’t snore, except when you’re sick, and even that’s barely on the Richter scale. You might nag, I don’t know, but I can handle that. As for knowing each other—isn’t that what we’re doing? Getting to know each other better?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So let’s go watch a movie while we wait for dinner to cook. We can watch one of your old favorites and you can tell me what your grandfather liked about it.”
She nibbled her lip. “What if I have a better idea?”
“What’s that, minette?”
“I-I want you to kiss me.”
Chapter Sixteen
“That accountant broad is staying with the guy she was with the night Tommy tried to break into her condo. Big, tough looking dude. Military or former military. One of Ian Black’s people.”
“Do you know where they are?” Paul Sobol sat at his desk and frowned at the computer screen in front of him, listening to the voice on the phone. This whole fucking thing was a disaster. It’d gone sideways in more ways than one. First Charles, then Jenny Clark, and now this Angie Turner chick.
Steve was pissed as hell. Calling him from Miami, telling him to take care of things. He fucking hated Steve. Asshole married his sister and thought he owned Paul too. Well, he fucking didn’t.
Paul had been skimming money right from under the asshole’s nose and he had no clue. The plan was to take enough to disappear one day. But then Charles had to go and get a conscience. He’d had no problem lining his own pockets until he found some transactions he didn’t like. What did Paul care if Steve wanted to funnel weapons to a bunch of terrorist jerk-offs in Afghanistan? Let them kill each other. Who the fuck cared? And if a few U.S. military troops got in the way, well, that’s just the way war worked.
Paul hadn’t sent them to a war zone. Neither had Steve. But Charles—shit, you’d have thought the dude was personally being sent over there to join them the way he’d reacted. Yeah, his little sister had been in the military, but she’d died in a car accident in Germany. So what the fuck was his problem? His sister couldn’t get killed again.
Charles had threatened to blow the whole operation wide open. He’d sworn they wouldn’t get caught if they exposed Steve, but Paul knew it wasn’t possible. The blowback would get them all killed because Steve wouldn’t go down without taking as many people with him as he could. That’s what Charles refused to understand.
While Paul didn’t have any problems stealing from his brother-in-law, he had huge problems with dying. Hence the current mess.
“Yeah, I know where they are,” Marco said. “It’s not far from her friend’s house. They were there for tea and fucking cookies today when our boys were working on the electrical. We tagged his vehicle while they were inside playing tea party.”
Paul could almost breathe again. Almost. “Don’t do anything until I call you again. I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Her heart raced. Little beads of sweat popped up on her skin. Had she really asked him to kiss her?
Colt stood near, his big form towering over her. Today he wore a gray T-shirt that clung to his muscles like a second skin and a blue plaid button down with long sleeves, open and untucked. His gaze grew hot.
He slid a hand around her back and tugged her closer, tipping her chin up with the other.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Angelica. Just so we’re clear—a kiss and then a movie? Or a kiss and let’s see where it goes?”
Angie swallowed. On the one hand, she was mortified that she had to say what she wanted. On the other, she loved that he wanted to make sure. How many guys would do that?
None that she’d gone out with, that’s for sure. She hadn’t had sex with any of them in recent years, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to push her into it.
“The second one,” she said on a whisper.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a feral grin. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. But Ang—nothing happens without your permission, okay? If you don’t like something, tell me. You’re calling all the shots here.”
Oh, she loved that he’d said that. Loved that he meant it. Because she knew he did. Colt Duchaine was masculine enough and badass enough to be utterly confident. He wasn’t going to take it personally if she put the brakes on. It wouldn’t be a blow to his fragile ego or an insult to his manhood. He was bigger than that. Better than that.
He was a protector, and he was determined to protect her. Even from himself.
Angie shivered. She didn’t want to stop anything, but she knew it was a possibility. What if she panicked? It’d been over two years since she’d had sex with a man. A vibrator wasn’t the same at all, even though she’d worked hers out pretty regularly. Mr. Dick was big and glittery pink—and very satisfactory—but he wasn’t attached to two-hundred and twenty pounds of prime male flesh.
Hard, beautiful, delicious male flesh.
Colt stepped in closer, though she’d have said it wasn’t possible. His mouth dropped
