Page 73 of Stolen Voices

“I’m sorry, Mase.”

I watch as Eli listens to the person on the other end of the line. He looks angry and tired. His hair is damp, and his clean, manly cologne is strong like he showered not too long ago. He’s changed into a pair of dark jeans and a charcoal-gray T-shirt that looks a little tight around his biceps, and his scruff is a little fuller than the five o’clock shadow he usually wears.

My lady bits tingle at the sight of him. I don’t know how he looks hotter in regular clothes, especially when he looks like sex on a stick when he’s in a suit, but he does.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure, Mase. I went back with a friend. He has experience with stunt work, and he inspected the cables and harness. He’s damn sure someone tampered with the rigging. The wires were sliced, and both the turnbuckles and descenders were jammed. The entire contraption was damaged. Someone wanted her … to fall.”

My blood runs cold as Eli stops before finishing his sentence. Someone didn’t just want me hurt; they wanted me dead.

“Yeah, I’ll hold,” he grumbles. He turns his body in my direction, and I slam my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. If Eli knows I’m awake, he will hang up on whomever he’s talking to. He’d try to protect me by keeping the truth from me.

“I’m here.” He pauses, listening to the voice on the other end. “What the fuck do you mean, you can’t see his face? There are ten goddamned cameras, Mason. One of them had to catch something.”

I listen as Eli and that Mason guy go back and forth discussing what happened yesterday. Turns out, I passed out after the fall, and between the pain meds and my body’s exhaustion, I’ve been out for almost twenty-four hours.

“We land tonight. I’ll text when we’re en route.”

We? He’s taking a trip somewhere? With someone?

Tears sting the back of my throat at the thought of Eli and who knows who leaving me behind. This hurts worse than finding out there is someone out there who wants me gone.

Footsteps on the linoleum floor grow closer, and the cheap leather of the chair beside me creaks. Eli slips his fingers through mine. His touch sends a surge of energy up my arm and settles behind my breastplate.

Holy shit, he’s holding my hand.

Butterflies swirl in my stomach as I slowly open my eyes to find him staring at me.

“Hey,” I croak.

“Hey, princess.”

A smile plays on my lips at the nickname. A nickname I used to hate but now can’t wait to hear roll off his tongue.

Eli exhales, and his shoulders fall from his ears. With his free hand, he swipes a lock of my hair from my face. “Fuck, am I glad to see you smile. You were asleep for far too long. You know Hudson would kill me if I lost his favorite client, right?”

My smile falters for a second. I see what he’s doing. And yet, he saved me. He feels something. He can deny it all he wants, but here he is, still holding my hand.

Shaking off his attempt at putting distance between us, I keep my smile in place. “I’m pretty sure you’d be sad without me too.”

Eli huffs a short-lived laugh. “Maybe.”

“You like me, and you know it,” I tease. I lift my free hand and poke his cheek with my index finger. “I’m growing on you.”

“Knock it off.” He bats my hand away.

“Admit it, and I’ll leave you alone.” I jab his forehead. “Say you like me.” I boop his nose. “Come on, say it.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Eli bites back a smile.

“Say it.” Without thinking, I flick his bottom lip down. His very silky-soft and warm lip.

Touching his mouth was a bad idea. A really bad idea. Terrible. Now, all I want is to know how it feels trapped between my lips and teeth as he kisses me.

Tearing my eyes away from his mouth, I look up to find him frozen in his seat, heat swirling in his eyes as he stares back at me. His blue-green orbs bounce from my eyes to my mouth and back.

Eli leans forward, inches separating us.

Go for it, my brain hisses at him.