Page 95 of Moonlit Temptation
Which is all I'll ever be in his eyes. I don't even have the energy to unpack those feelings tonight.
And I don't know where the hell Bane was, but it wasn't at the clubhouse.
So, yeah, that leaves Nova pounding on my front door. I can't decide if I should be annoyed with myself for my instant relief. Or just revel in the fact that he's already here.
I won't deny there's something alluring about a man possessed with the need to help his woman. Or hell, maybe it's just me.
I swear my feminism takes flight half the time I'm around those St. James men.
I think we need to have a conversation tonight. One where I try to articulate that I have a growing attraction to his brother and his cousin. On top of my feelings for him.
And then maybe if all goes well, I can convince him to join me in the shower.
I meant what I said though. I don't want to cause problems for anyone. They'refamily.
And I haven't known Hunter very long, but he's easy to love. I would never make his life confusing or complicated.
Mostly, I just hate that Silas had a point. Kind of.
It's hard to remember what his point was when his lips were so close to mine. I could have sworn he was two seconds away from actually kissing me.
I hear another thump, this one sounds like it's coming from the living room. I'm pretty sure I locked the door, even though everyone repeatedly tells me I don't need to. It's a habit for me, and except for that one time with Bane, the front door remains locked even when I'm home.
I take my time dressing, figuring I'll make him sweat it out a little more. I wonder if he brought me French fries instead of flowers. I giggle at the image in my mind of him organizing an elaborate display of fries and dipping sauces on the island.
Dressed in an oversized tee that I found in a box of my old stuff and a pair of short shorts, I throw my hair up into a messy bun. The tee is so old, the graphic is mostly faded, but I think it's some nineties band. The collar is stretched out, so it's always slipping off my shoulder.
But it might be the softest tee I own, and right now, I could use a little comfort.
I skip down the stairs, thinking about Nova and french fries when the sound registers.
It's not knocking on my front door, or even Nova setting anything up in the kitchen.
Someone's rifling through the piles of Nana Jo's things in the living room.
I tiptoe closer, my heart lurching inside my chest. No, not someone. Three someones. Dressed in dark colors with hats or ski masks on. They're murmuring to one another, tossing everything they can get their hands on in big black garbage bags.
My hand flies to my back pocket, where I always keep my phone. But when I hit soft nylon, I remember I left it upstairs. I curse the fact that these shorts don't come with pockets as I proceed to have a five-second absolute panic meltdown.
I don't know who’s in my house or how they got in here or if they're armed.
Bottom line: I need my phone.
I try to steady my breathing as I take a step back, going up the stairs. And I hope like hell they don't turn around and see me. I take another step back, staying on my tiptoes.
This stair creaks, and I freeze. It's quiet, soft enough that I don't think they hear it over their low murmuring. My heart is thundering in my ears, and a flush of fear rolls down my body.
Their conversation doesn't pause, so I'm in the clear. I make it another two stairs before I hit another creak. And I know I'm in trouble. It's loud, too loud to go unnoticed.
“Hey, did you hear that?” someone asks, their voice a little louder, like they're coming toward me.
I don't have time to think. I turn on the ball of my foot and sprint upstairs. I only make it two stairs before a hand clamps around my bicep.
“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” a low voice growls from right behind me.
I struggle against the grip, thrashing as much as I can to get free. My bare toes slip on the stairs, and I lose my balance. The person holding me grunts and swings me into the wall with such force that it stuns me still.
“What do we have here, huh?”
