Page 64 of The True Garza

He checks his watch. “You’re more known than you think,Lonny.”

Still stuck on the fact that he’d gone back to the cabin two weeks after our fling, I just gaze up at him. To think, I could’ve had more of him. If only I hadn’t decided to keep a promise to a friend. “Why did you go back to the cabin?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Sheesh. Why is my heart beating so loud? So fast? Did I have too much caffeine at breakfast?

“When did you stop?”

With furrowed brows, he glances out at the grounds. Scratches his scruffy jaw, then meets my gaze again. “Don’t think I ever did.”

Too much coffee at breakfast. That’s it. That’s the only explanation for the overwhelming hammering in my chest right now. Before I realize it, I’m up on my feet and moving to the other side of the balcony, effectively putting distance between me and Mr. Fuck With Your Head.

Leaning against the wall, I grasp at it with my nails like it’s a fortress. “You need to stop saying shit like that to me.”

“You ask me questions and I answer them,” he says simply. “Don’t want answers, don’t ask questions.”

Yes, but why can’t you lie like a normal man? Why must your answers be so blunt and honest? Why must you be so shameless? Why aren’t you prideful? Why don’t you lash out like an asshole masking his vulnerability? Whymust you be different?

And, still, because I’m a glutton for punishment, I ask, “What did you say to Lorenzo earlier?”

“That you’re mine.”

Oh dear god.“I’mnot, though.”

“Come here.”

Like nature responding to the command of its creator, I straighten from the wall and start moving across the balcony to him. Abruptly, I halt. Because…what the hell?

“Why?” I ask.

Instead of answering, he beckons me with two fingers.

Just like that, I take another step. Then halt again, fighting to keep my feet planted. It’sridiculoushow much of a struggle it is to not go to him. It’s as if my utmost purpose is to obey this man.

My skin itches. Like I’ll break out in hives if I don’t close the distance between us.

With an arched brow, he watches me war with myself. Entertained.

Battle lost, I take the rest of the steps across the balcony to him.

For several seconds, he just stares down at me with a half-smile. “Still think you aren’t mine?”

“I’m not.” The words are so quiet, they might have not been said. Like lies should never be spoken.

He hooks two fingers into the low-cut neckline of my blouse and tugs me up against him. “Everyone knows you’re mine, London.” He pinches my bottom lip. The sting of it is delicious. “Why else do you think you’re here?”

“To help you with—”

“And whyyou?” he presses. “You’re just the new hire from the PS division.”

Because the only time we’ve ever seen him sit still, quiet, and focused is when you’re in his line of sight.

“Trust me, I tried to fight it, too. I don’t want to want you. But this thing between us….” He fondles a stray tendril at my temple. “It’s a living, breathing, starving monster. There’s no winning against it.”

“I’m not…” My breath hitches when he dusts his finger along my throat. “Yours.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”