The Wedding Rescue, Book Three(12)

“I do,” he said, a wry smile curving his lips. “But I also handle our more specialized cases.”

“Sometimes they get a little hairy,” Sam cut in.

“Oh,” I said.

I could only imagine the kind of jobs Axel took. I’d heard of Sinclair Security. They didn’t do pay-by-the-month house alarms. They specialized in elite systems for the wealthiest clients. And they provided personal security for everyone from visiting dignitaries to celebrities with scary stalkers. I knew about them because one of their people had foiled an assassination attempt on a foreign ambassador a few months before. He’d foiled it by taking the bullet himself. It had been huge in the news. Not only had the Sinclair team protected their client, they’d tracked down the assassin and handed him over to the police.

I gave Axel another look. This time, I saw it. Beneath his quiet demeanor was a core of steel. This man would get the job done, no matter what it took. Curious, I asked,

“Was the ambassador’s attempted assassination one of your hairy cases?” I knew he’d know what I was talking about. The assassination attempt had been on every news channel for over a week. Axel shook his head.

“The ambassador was business as usual. Unfortunate that it hit the news. We like to keep a low profile. News should be about our clients, not our agents.”

“Is the guy who got shot okay? The last I saw, he was in the hospital.”

“He’s back in the field. It was only a shoulder, nothing serious.”

“Good,” I said. Axel winked at me.

He was hot, no question. That thick, short, dark hair, his almost black eyes, a lean but powerful build. Still, Lacey was right. Not exactly great relationship material. I sure as hell wouldn’t be comfortable with a man who considered a bullet to the shoulder a minor issue. Not if he was out there facing far more dangerous stuff than just being shot. The woman who took him on would have to be strong enough to handle his job and laid back enough not to freak out about it. Feeling like poking at him, I leaned my head back and looked up at Dylan.

“Your job isn’t dangerous, is it?” He rubbed his chin against my temple, smiling down at me.

“Not remotely. Stressful sometimes. But not dangerous.”

“Good,” I whispered, forgetting for a moment that we had company. Dylan’s eyes had darkened to a rich green, the color so deep I felt myself falling into them. His eyes were saying something I liked, something warm and hopeful that had my heart racing. A throat cleared. I flushed and looked up to see Axel studying me with a grave expression.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Violet said, gesturing at Dylan and me.

“All right,” Sam said. “Enough of that, Dyl. You’re making us look bad in front of the ladies.” Turning to Lacey and Violet, he said, “Do you two want to go out and have some fun? It looks like Dylan and Leigha are in for the night.”

Both women agreed, and with a few nods and winks, the four of them left the bar. The ice bag on my knuckles was mostly water by this point. I dropped it on the bar beside my empty water glass.

“Do you want to go and have some fun?” Dylan asked.

“Only if the fun is upstairs in your penthouse,” I said. “Your friends were nice, but I don’t want to share you anymore.”

His fierce smile was all the answer I needed. With one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, Dylan led the way to the elevators. This time, our silent ride up to the penthouse didn’t leave me feeling awkward and uncertain. I thought I was coming to understand where I stood with Dylan. I hoped I was.

Without speaking, we passed through the entryway and into his penthouse. As soon as we crossed the threshold, Dylan turned and headed straight for the bedroom. I followed without protest. In complete silence, he stopped beside the bed and stared at me, taking me in from head to toe. I stared back, absorbing the way he looked in his perfectly tailored suit, hoping it would shortly be on the floor. Reading my mind, he stripped off his jacket, dropping it on the bed. His shirt followed seconds later, his eyes never leaving mine.

I reached for the zipper at my back, lowering it slowly. When it was all the way down, I stopped, letting Dylan push the lace of the bodice off my shoulders. The fabric caught on my breasts before giving in to the pull of gravity and falling to the carpet. I stood there, naked except for my spike-heeled sandals. I expected Dylan to pounce. I was tempted to pounce on him, and he only had his shirt off.

What he did took me by surprise, melting my wary heart. Stepping closer, until the tips of my breasts touched his chest, he took my mouth in a slow, devastating kiss. His kiss didn’t rush, didn’t push. He tasted me—no, he savored me. I know, because I was doing the same - falling deeper and deeper into our kiss as my hands sank into his thick, silky hair.