Page 38 of Covert (Ruthless Love #2)

Chapter thirty-five

Axel

N ikki's asleep, curled up on the couch, a jacket covering her like a blanket.

And I fucking hate it. My fists clench beside my thighs, and I struggle to smooth my breathing.

I had noticed her starting to leave things out around her bedroom. A sweater here, a hairbrush there, like she was finally comfortable enough to relax. She started to feel safe and had started to move in.

And then fucking Britney.

I get it. None of us has a perfect past. Nikki's certainly no virgin. But I don't understand what about Britney flirting with Maddox would have her back into fight or flight mode. She's sleeping on the goddamn couch, with her full backpack on the floor next to her head.

Goddamnit.

I don't get angry. I'm the flirty, fun one people can rely on not to take things too seriously. But watching Nikki's sleeping form on the fucking couch has me livid.

I want to take her backpack and pull out everything in it. I want to burn the backpack. I want to tie her to a bed so she can never leave us. I want to knock her up, so she'd never think to leave us.

She even went so far as to lie with me for a while, and then excuse herself to go to the bathroom. When she didn't come back, I went looking for her.

Honestly, I'm offended she thinks I wouldn't notice. I'm offended she doesn't realize how much her presence means to me. That, what? I wouldn't notice she hadn't come back? I live and breathe by what that woman does.

She looks so small and uncomfortable on the couch, curled up under a jacket to try to keep warm.

Fuck this.

I can still be angry and fall asleep next to her.

I slowly slide my arms under her knees and shoulders.

If she wakes up, she'll fight me, make some excuse why the couch is better - anything to serve her demons.

So, I lift her as slowly and as gently as I can and make my way back up the stairs.

There's only one acceptable place she can sleep, and it's with one of us.

I curl into bed behind her. I could work more tonight, but honestly, I'm still too angry to look at the worst of humanity without raging against it. Nikki's become my calm. My peace. I bury my head into her hair and breathe her in. My girl. Soft and strong. Sweet and sassy. Brave and terrified.

No. I've changed my mind.

I shouldn't be spending my nights looking for a woman who, by all statistics, is already dead. I should be spending my time researching the one who is very much alive in front of me.

As I listen to her breaths gently swaying in and out of her chest, my anger disippates gently.

With each breath, I remind myself that she's here.

That maybe her confidence took a hit, or Britney brought up some bad memories, but in the morning, I'll remind her that we're all in, and she's not just in it with Maddox, but with Beckett, Diesel, and me .

So, when the sun starts to peak through the curtain a few hours later, I crawl down my woman and wake her with my head between her thighs.