Page 76 of Manhattan State of Mind

“No need.”

He’s about to say more when his jaw suddenly locks, the heat of his gaze devouring my chest.

Oh, fuck.

I forgot my coat is hanging open and my nipples are proudly on display through my tee. Begging for attention.

His eyes zero in on them, hardening with arousal, and my unruly nipples fire off a salute, openly defying me.

Damn it.

The male equivalent of a rogue semi, that’s how it feels.

Slyly, I yank my coat shut, causing his throat to do a weird little dance before he re-centers on my face.

Is Wolfe actually flustered byme? The thought pleases me more than it should.

“Stay here for however long you like—or move in permanently if you want.”

Or at least till your nips calm down, his pretend voice growls in my head.

Is he serious? Me, living here? Right next to him?

“That’s… uh… I mean… wow, I mean… incredibly generous but, um…” I stammer, tripping over my own words like a bumbling idiot. “I shouldn’t… I mean… I couldn’t possibly…”

He takes in my panicked expression, stepping back from the door like he’s dealing with a spooked cat. “Don’t stress about it. You don’t need to make a decision now. But the offer stands, for whenever you’re ready.”

“That’s”—my stomach flutters, the idea of being in close proximity to Wolfe altogether too much—“incredibly generous of you.”

He offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, retreating to his own door. Like he’s used to being held at arm’s length even when extending a hand. “I have a kind side, believe it or not. Sometimes it’s not obvious.”

“Starting to see that,” I whisper.

He’s staring at me, eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that makes me squirm. For what, I don’t have the faintest idea.

“Well, good night, JP,” I say, my voice a pitch higher than normal. Damn nerves.

He speaks just as I’m about to close the door.

“Hold up,” he rumbles, his voice deep and gravelly, halting my movement. “Seeing as sleep seems to be eluding both of us, would you like to come in?”

I practically choke on thin air.

“It’s three in the morning,” I whisper.

“I can read a clock,” he drawls, his voice taking on this husky tone that doesn’t exactly help my erratic pulse. “Didn’t answer my question though. Do you want to come in?”

I swallow hard, eyes darting to his bare chest then back up to his intense gaze. Oh my—his sex-slapping sounds must be incredible.

Hell yes.

Someone call emergency services; I’m being assaulted by dangerous levels of horn. Send oxygen. Or a vibrator. Possibly both.

Hell to the yes. I could live out all my Daredevil fantasies.

His throat muscles flex as he waits for my response.

Deep breaths. Rise above your baser urges. Think pure, calming thoughts. Cold showers. Nuns. Ulcers. Warts. Spider on the toilet.