Page 78 of Forced Proximity

‘Fair,’ he says. ‘And Edward Norton killed in his performance.’

‘And I did not see the ending coming at all.’

‘Same. But then you have Pulp Fiction.’ He hands me a sparkling water from the car cooler and grabs one for himself. ‘That was the first movie I saw that was out of chronological order.’

How could I forget? Brilliant. ‘So smart.’

‘And it has Samuel L Jackson. That dude is legendary.’

‘Sure is.’ I crack open the water and the bubbles fizz down my throat. ‘Well, and there’s the whole gimp thing.’

He laughs and brings the can to his lips. ‘When that happened, I died. I did not expect that scene.’

‘Me neither,’ I say. ‘In conclusion. Tie. I cannot choose.’

‘Then we flip a coin. Do you have a quarter?’

‘What is this, the ’90s?’ I laugh at his scowl. ‘Who carries change?’

He grabs his buzzing phone from the console. Streetlights mixing with the screen illuminate his face in a soft light. What would it feel like to touch his face? Would his five o’clock shadow tickle my fingertips? Is his skin underneath soft and hydrated? Or those lips … fuck. Those lips are so kissable. I nibble on my bottom lip, picturing them on my mouth, on my neck, moving lower, firm, soft … I mean to pull away my gaze, but I’m not quick enough. He clearly caught me eye-banging him. Shit.

The SUV stops in front of the grocery store and we exit. As we stroll through the aisles, Justin’s unusually quiet. His eyes glide between looking at products and looking at me. I’m trying to ignore, but dammit, I’m also human. I’m desperate to hold his hand, rest my head on his shoulder, ask what he’s going to make me for breakfast after I let him ravish me.

I blink away the thoughts as he grabs his favorite gluten-free snacks and sparkling juices. I can’t do this. I. Cannot. Do. This.

After we check out, I scan the parking lot as he slowly pushes the cart, breathing in the warm night, opening and closing his mouth like he has something to say. And right now, whatever it is, I can’t hear it. I’m tugging on this thread that’s going to snap, and when it does, it’ll be both amazing and terrible.

Justin slows almost to a stop. ‘I think we need to talk.’

My stomach flips at the buttery tone. I know what he wants to say, and God, I want to hear and say everything too. We can’t do this. Not now. I’m still on duty. Contracted to protect him. Under an oath. This conversation cannot happen.

‘I don’t think we should.’ It’s all I can muster. My strength is gone. He’s a magnet drawing me to him, making me forget everything I stand for, everything I hold sacred. Part of me wants to quit, right this second, and have this talk.

‘I feel like we’ve grown closer,’ he says. ‘Do you think so, too?’

My heart thumps in my throat, but I remain silent as we approach the SUV. Please stop. He can’t say any more. My willpower is going to break.

‘Having you here, with me, feels so different than it did in the beginning.’ The driver steps out, but Justin puts up his hand. ‘I got it, Mike. Thanks. Could you go back inside? I need a second alone with Doc.’

‘You bet,’ Mike says and returns to the vehicle.

I’m ignoring every screaming tingle in my body. I’m fighting them, kicking them, pushing them away. I’m a volcano on the brink of erupting, and I’m going to burst. I squeeze the handle to pop open the trunk. Justin presses his hand on top of mine, strong, intentional, and my skin erupts with goosebumps.

Shit. I’m not doing this, no matter how much I want to. If I tell him how I feel, I know how he’s going to react and it’s not fucking safe. He’ll tell me we’ll figure it out, and that things will be fine, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand threats, how this compromises my position, the danger he’ll be put in. So, I can’t. No matter how bad I want to.

I pull my hand away and blink up at him through my lashes. God those eyes. Those beautiful hazel eyes, with their greens and ambers, read me. ‘We should get in the car.’

He leans in, completely ignoring me, as if he doesn’t understand how serious this is, as if he doesn’t care. I want him to care and also not care, and shit. I hate, hate, hate this. His deep citrus scent permeates my brain, the energy radiating from his beautiful body reaches my center.

‘I can’t believe in the beginning I didn’t want you here.’ His voice is low, raspy, like warm sand on a beach, and I want more. ‘And now, I love having you so close.’

Please stop. Please don’t stop. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I can’t speak.

I reach into the cart for the grocery bags, set them in the trunk, and slam the tailgate door. I turn to face him, to tell him that we need to stop, but goddamn, those eyes.

Justin flattens his palm on top of the SUV, towering over me. I feel so small, so womanly, wanted in a way that I haven’t felt in a long time. He’s too close. I inhale the delicious scent from his neck and the hairs on my scalp flicker. I want to grab his waist, tug into him, breathe him in. There are a million things I want to say – I love being here, too, he has magical hands, his touch makes my skin dance.

Ugh. Why does this have to be so hard? My poker face cracks. I pivot and face the trunk. I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose and take several full, hearty breaths.