CHAPTER TWO

BECCA

Taylor’s apartment was right in the city center. Not the top floor, but close, in a skyscraper I’d never even realized people lived in. When we got to the hallway, his eyes were drooping, fatigue clear on his face.

He might not want to admit it, but whatever they’d given him at the hospital was doing a number on him now.

“Give me your key, Taylor,” I murmured, putting his arm over my shoulders and wrapping mine around his waist.

“I’m fine, lass. I promise. You don’t have to help me.”

“I’m not helping you. I’m cold, and you’re keeping me warm. Does that make you feel better?”

A low rumbled laugh escaped him as he fished in his pocket and finally produced the keys I had returned after parking his car.

“Which one is it?”

He gestured lazily to the door at the end of the hall.

“Of course, it’s down the hall.”

“Corner view. I can see the whole city. At least the parts I want to see.”

“Athletes. All that money and you don’t know what to do with it aside from showing off.”

“I know exactly what to do with it. Don’t judge me because I have a nice place to live.”

Chastened, I ducked my head and muttered an apology. “You’re right. I shouldn’t begrudge you the finer things in life.”

“No, you shouldn’t, especially when I’m about to share them with you.”

“Oh no. I’m not being reeled into your trap.”

“What trap?”

“You’re gonna lure me into your lair and then…”

“What?” He nuzzled my neck with a lazy chuckle, whispering over my skin. “Ravish you?”

“Exactly.”

I knew, though, that nothing would happen tonight. Taylor Savage was going to pass out the moment his head hit the pillow. I told myself I would just get him inside and make sure he was okay. Ensure he had everything he needed since I was the one who tried to murder him. Then we could go our separate ways.

“Come on, Tink. Are you so afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s a lie.”

It might be, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. The truth was, he gave me the flutters. No one had given me the flutters in a long time.

I finally got the door open, which wasn’t as easy as it should have been because I had a big, bulky Scot draped over me who was getting heavier by the minute.

Flipping the lights on when I went inside, I smiled at the simple, clean lines of the place. An open floor plan, wall-to-wall windows, and, as promised, a view of the best parts of the city.

“Aren’t you afraid people are gonna look in your windows?”

He chuckled. “They cannae see in. Only I can see out.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Aye, lass, I’m sure. I paid extra.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Where’s your bedroom?

“Oh, she moves fast. Are you sure you don’t want me to press you up against those windows and—”

“Stop right there. You’re in no shape to do any kind of ravishing. Against the windows. In your bed. On the kitchen counter.”

“Kitchen counter. Now that’s a good suggestion.”

I rolled my eyes. “Taylor, come on.”

I dropped the white pharmacy bag on the coffee table as we passed by. Then I followed his directions down the hall, past two other doors, until I reached his bedroom.

I’d expected the same masculine, modern design, but instead, I was greeted with a bed that looked soft as a cloud, a thick white rug at the foot, and photos hanging on the walls. A chair in the corner was covered in laundry—but it was folded.

“This is cozy.”

I could hear the smirk. “Makes you want to stay, doesn’t it?”

“No, Taylor, we are not sleeping together tonight.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Come on. I didn’t say anything about fucking. I don’t want to be alone. I have a headache. And... you did nearly kill me.”

“You are the worst.”

“You like it, though.”

I laid him down on the bed. His eyes closed, lips already back to normal. He rested one palm on his stomach, and the other slid down my arm until he grasped my wrist, his thumb gently running across the underside.

“Just stay with me, lovely. For a while.”

Why did that get me? What was it about his vulnerability? Inwardly I groaned. His gentleness hit me right in my weak spot. That was why. Give me a man who wasn’t afraid to admit he needed something. A man who could be open with me.

Who didn’t feel like he was putting on a show most of the time we were together? That’s who Taylor had been. Occasionally his facade of a big bad cocky athlete slipped through, but for the most part, he’d been this version. The man I wanted.

A tendril of fear unfurled in my gut. But what if that had been the facade? What if he read me like a book and knew exactly how he needed to act to get me to want to be with him so he could get me in bed?

Stop it, Becca. You’re self-sabotaging.

I was. I was very good at that. But my examples for most of my childhood of what made a healthy relationship were sorely lacking until my sister Clara met and married Maverick Wilde.

I hadn’t seen happiness, respect, or real love until then. Was it too much for me to hope I would find that? It seemed unlikely. A love like Maverick and Clara’s only came around once in a lifetime.

“Lass?” Taylor murmured, fading fast. His voice pulled me from my panic spiral. “Lie with me or leave me. Just don’t keep me in suspense.”

I should have left. I should have walked out the door and never looked back. Instead, I sighed and crawled onto the bed next to him. In one smooth move, he rolled over and spooned me. Holding me close, he inhaled deeply.

“You smell good. So fucking good.”

He didn’t try to feel me up or rock his hips into mine. He just laid there with his face buried in my hair and one arm around my waist as he drifted off to sleep. I stared at the room, listening to the sounds of his even breaths. Weirdest first date ever.