Where Winter Finds You: A Caldwell Christmas (The Black Dagger Brotherhood series by J.R. Ward

Author:J.R. Ward [Ward, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2019-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Sitting across from his female, Trez was scrambled in his head, but calm on the outside. At least he thought he was calm. No tapping heels, drumming fingers… or twitches of the eyebrows or mouth that he could tell.

So things were looking up. And hell, not only had there been a good ten or fifteen minutes since anybody outed a gun, there had also been a respite from people jumping out of windows. They kept this trend up, he might actually sleep through the day.

Yay.

“You don’t really live here, do you,” his female said as she continued to consume her one-Raisin-per-spoonful-Bran.

For a split second, he tried to configure a lie in his head. Something about moving in soon. Just having moved in. Trying the place out for moving in. But he was tired, and all that fiction building seemed like too much work. Besides, his female was smart, and it didn’t take a genius to notice the lack of personal effects.

Or the total non-clothes in the closet or bureau upstairs, if she checked.

“I mean”—she motioned around the kitchen and out into the living room with her spoon—“no personal effects, no photographs. No mess.”

Bingo.

And yet: “I’m pretty neat, though. Just ask my brother. He and I lived together for years.”

She stirred the milk around, the spoon seeking soggy flakes that refused to be corralled. “So this is the house you want me to rent, huh.”

“You do like it. You said so yourself.”

“And I already know how to take my clothes off in the bedroom.”

Trez felt a shot of lust go through him. That sight of her backside, her spine, her shoulders… with the tease that as soon as she turned around, he was going to get to see her breasts? He’d been on the verge of coming.

Except then the groceries arrived. Man, if he never heard another knock in his fucking life, it would be too soon.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she tilted her bowl and got more serious about navigating the end of the cereal. “I mean, I can—”

“I really want to have sex with you.”

Her eyes flipped to his, and instantly, the chemistry was back—and he welcomed the influx of arousal. He was not lying; he did want to be inside of her. But there was another piece to it. He needed the doubts and the fears and the grief that were simmering just below his surface to shut the fuck up. He didn’t want to think about his argument with iAm. He didn’t want to think about her in that club of idiots last night, some asshat with a gun and a hard-on for a woman who didn’t want him shooting shit up because his ego got kicked in the hey-nannies. And he didn’t want to think his female was so reckless as to fly-be-free from a second-story window.

And there were other things. Things he really, really couldn’t bear looking at.

The sex, however, would eclipse all that glare.

And sometimes shade was needed when the heat was on.

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