Page 6 of Shadow’s Protection (Hurricane Heat MC #1)

“The whole truth and nothing but.” I pat the couch beside me. Her dress looks like it’s mostly dried, and her hair is in half-wet, long, soft-looking curls covering her chest. “I’m an open book.”

She drops down onto the couch and crosses her legs under her. “That’s literally my first question. Your books.” She points to the armoire but then immediately covers her mouth with her hand. “I snooped. I’m sorry. But just a little… I?—”

I tip the bottle toward her. “You got a question in there?”

Her face breaks into an easy smile, and even the flickering of lights doesn’t dim it.

She squares her shoulders, takes a small sip, and then closes her eyes, trying hard not to cough as the liquid goes down.

I hold back a laugh as she slaps her free hand against the top of her thigh, her eyes watering.

“Okay,” she gasps, trying to get the question out even though she’s still clearly fighting a coughing fit. “Why do you have all those books? Are you in law school?”

I hold up two fingers. “That was two questions.”

She looks down at the whiskey but doesn’t hesitate.

She takes another small sip, this one seeming to go down a lot easier.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smiles, a victorious-looking little grin that sends a very different kind of heat through my limbs.

“Two questions, two drinks. So now, I get two answers.”

I settle back against the cushions and kick my feet up onto the small ottoman. “I read a lot,” I say. “Not in law school. Doubt I’d get in.”

She is studying my face quietly, waiting for me to say more. What the fuck. Why not?

“I hardly finished high school. Been arrested about a half dozen times for stupid shit. I was rowdy when I was young.” I chuckle. That’s putting it mildly. “One conviction. Served a couple months for beating up an asshole in a bar fight that went way too far.”

She nods but doesn’t look put off by anything I’m saying. “So, you study the law to understand it? Are you still a criminal?”

I burst out laughing at that, but I just point to the bottle. “At this rate, you’re gonna pass out before I answer.”

“Is that your way of avoiding the question? I think we should have been clearer on the rules of the game.” She gives me a playful pout but takes another shot. “So, you study the law to, what, know what’s legal?”

I shrug. “Let’s just say I never have trusted authority.

The best defense is a strong offense. That kind of thing.

” I’m not sure if she follows what I’m saying, but I have a few questions of my own.

I reach for the bottle and take a swig. “My turn. What’s a woman like you doing out in a storm like this? ”

She presses her lips together and looks down at her hand. She’s laced her fingers together in her lap, and it’s clear I’ve touched a nerve.

“I was in a relationship,” she says. “I ended it, and I needed a fresh start. New job, new city, new place to live. My big adventure isn’t starting out so great, though.”

I hold up the whiskey to signal I’ve got another question and then drink. “What’s the new job?”

She beams at me, her face lighting up and her green eyes brimming with sunshine. “I’m a high school librarian,” she says, and I almost choke on my whiskey.

“Coulda guessed,” I wheeze, and she reaches over the middle cushion to smack me playfully on the knee.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asks.

I raise a brow at her. “Is that a question?”

She scoots closer to me and grabs the bottle from my hands. She gives me a grin that holds a challenge and drinks in answer.

I breathe deep and roll my neck to loosen the tension. I like this girl. Violet, the school librarian.

“Librarian fits, that’s all. You’ve got this innocence thing going on,” I tell her. “The big eyes, the short sundress. All that’s missing are nerdy glasses.” What I don’t say is that I have a feeling there’s a tiger underneath all this sweetness. A big cat just waiting to eat a man like me alive.

“You make being smart and innocent sound like bad things.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Maybe I wouldn’t fit in here, but geeks are cool now, in case you didn’t know.”

I take the bottle from her and chug. “You don’t wanna fit in here,” I say, and I mean it. “And that’s not exactly what I meant. I’ll bet you’ve got thousands of teenage boys hot for teacher. Or librarian, you know. Same thing.”

She seems to register that I was complimenting her. “Was that a question? Or are you telling me I’m hot?”

“You just asked me two questions, but I’ll give you this one for free.

” I lean forward and touch the underside of her chin lightly.

“You, Violet the Librarian, whose last name I don’t know, are fucking hot.

Let’s just say my education might have gone a totally different way if our school librarian had looked like you. ”

I can’t tell if the shots are getting to her, but she leans forward. A flush travels from her cleavage, up her neck, and across her cheeks. I watch every inch as it spreads.

“I think you’re hot too,” she says quietly and more seriously than I expected. “A little scary, but definitely hot.” Then she holds out her hand. “My turn. I have more questions.”

By the time we’ve polished off almost the whole bottle, I can’t tell who’s drunk more. But I can tell who’s feeling it more.

Violet sways closer to me on the couch, her hand permanently resting on my thigh. I force myself not to look down at it, because I know if I acknowledge what she’s doing—wasted or not—she’s gonna move away.

And that’s the last thing I want.

The storm rages on outside, and the sound of the wind battering the hurricane shutters no longer makes her jump.

I’ve learned her last name—James—and that she’s thirty-two to my thirty-seven.

Neither one of us has ever been married, and while she didn’t even have to waste a question on whether I have tattoos—she knew the answer with her first look at me—I did ask, and she apparently has none.

“What about piercings?” I ask. I lean forward and brush a lock of hair away from her ear. “Ears, belly, any place?”

She shakes her head, but I notice her eyes flutter closed when I move her hair. “You gonna drink for that question, or are you done playing?” Her voice is low and sensual, like she is asking me a dangerous question inside a simple one.

I curl my hand beneath her hair and lace my fingers behind her neck. Her skin is soft and warm, and she releases a little gasp at the touch. But she doesn’t push me away.

I lean in, and she opens her mouth and licks her lower lip. “Depends. Are you proposing a new game, Violet James?”

“I…” She turns her head slightly, leaning so close to my face I can feel her sweet breath against my beard. “Shadow, would you…”

She moves her mouth toward mine, and I tighten my hold on the back of her neck. “What do you want, sweetheart?” I ask.

But before she can answer, she sighs, closes her eyes, and rests her head on my shoulder. “Mmm, you just… You smell so… You…”

I bite back a grin as she mumbles into my shoulder. But I’m racked with full-body disappointment as her words disappear into heavy breaths.

“Violet?” I pull away just a bit, but her body goes slack, and it’s clear she’s out.

I gather her in my arms and consider laying her out on the couch, but then I think better of it and slide my hands under her knees, pick her up, and carry her to my bed. She wraps her arms around my neck and murmurs against my shoulder, so she’s not completely passed out.

“We were about to… Are we playing…” I can hardly make out the words, but I don’t think I need to hear them all to get where she’s going.

“You need some sleep, sweetheart.”

She goes quiet then, her breathing steady and even.

I reach down with one hand and yank back the covers, careful not to drop the passed-out woman in my arms. I set her on the bed, and she smiles, so I know she can’t be too fucked up—at least, I hope not.

I tuck her under the covers and grab one pillow from beside her so I won’t have to use the armrest on my couch all night.

I grab a bottle of water from a mini fridge in the corner and set it on the bedside table with a small trash can, just in case.

I consider heading back out to the party. The wind is loud as fuck and the music is muted, but I can tell from the cheers and the talking that my brothers plan to ride out this storm with as much booze and sex as they can.

I look at the woman passed out under my covers. This ain’t the same kind of party, but I pull off my vest and T-shirt, throw the pillow onto my couch, and flip off the lights, the taste of whiskey on my lips and the scent of a woman named Violet making the room swim.