Worth the Risk by J. B. Heller

Worth the Risk by J. B. Heller

Author:J. B. Heller [Heller, J. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2018-11-15T05:00:00+00:00


God, she’s gorgeous. Those sky blues pull me in, and I don’t ever want to let her go. Sliding my hands up to her neck, I tug her back down until her forehead rests against mine. “Sweetness, I have to go speak to him. This is only the beginning. Once we make contact, things are going go one of two ways. Either he’ll back down now that you have us, or he’ll up his game.”

“I don’t like this,” she whispers, her breath fluttering across my lips as she breathes.

Pushing her hair out of her face, I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I’m not an amateur, going into a situation I can’t handle.”

She sighs and rolls back to my side, snuggling into my chest. One hand rests on my hip, the other under her cheek like a pillow. “I still don’t like it.”

Rubbing circles on her lower back, I decide I should give her the reassurance she needs. “Before I started Alpha One, I was in the military for over a decade. I ran black ops missions for the last four years of that. I know what I’m doing, Lissa. I need you to trust that much.”

The hand on my hip glides over my stomach, tracing the lines dividing my abs. “Over a decade?” she asks. “So, how old are you exactly? Am I sleeping with an older man?” She gasps theatrically. “Are you a cradle snatcher, Mr Jamieson?”

I squeeze her arse. “I’m not that much older than you; don’t go getting excited. I’m thirty-three. Not old enough to be considered your sugar daddy. And we haven’t ever slept together. Today doesn’t count; that was more like a power nap.”

She chuckles. The vibrations of it flow through her chest into mine. God, I love it when she laughs. “Damn,” she sighs again. “I thought I’d scored myself a free ride.”

Grabbing her wrist from my stomach, I roll her to her back, coming down on top of her. “You know I can take care of you, right? I’m not in the same league as your father or the people that usually surround you, but I have enough. Actually, I have more than enough,” I tell her, my gaze drilling into hers, hoping she sees what I’m trying to say.

Her forehead wrinkles as she blinks up at me. “Why would you say that? Why would you compare yourself to him or any of them?”

Now I’m confused. Isn’t that why she stays within her father’s grasp? Because of the money? I don’t judge her for that; it’s all she’s ever known. I just want her to know that I can give her that too. If she’ll let me.

My silence must encourage her to elaborate. “I don’t want a life like that. I don’t want to be somebody’s trophy, their possession. That’s all that I am now, and I hate it. I just don’t know how to change it,” she says with a hitch in her voice.

I feel like a dick for assuming that was what she wanted.



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