Twist My Heart, Brooke Taylor [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

Since when did he abort a mission simply because of a minor hitch? Hitches were his specialty. He prided himself on his creativity on the battlefield. Why couldn’t he bring more of that quick thinking into the bedroom? He could do better. He owed her, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up again.

Chapter Nineteen

Thea stared at the wall of women’s jeans in the department store. Her only clothing option for their trip to the Boulder Mall had been to wear the white dress from lost and found again. Seeing as how sunlight made the fabric as sheer as Saran Wrap, Nik had given her a navy hoodie to wear over it. The springtime air along the Front Range was cold enough to warrant the sweatshirt anyway. But if she stripped it off, he’d have to start killing people. Like hell anyone but him would be enjoying that view.

“Can you please tell me what women wear? A brand? Anything?” The look on her face was confused and broken. Her lower lip swelled as her eyes implored him. “Please, I hate feeling so helpless about everything.”

Damn. He didn’t just want to help her. He wanted to slay dragons and conquer cities for her. Hell, that would’ve been easy. But clothes weren’t in his wheelhouse the way death and diner food were. Plus, he freaking hated shopping for anything not rated by horsepower or classified as a weapon.

He stared at the foreboding columns of neatly folded denim pants. As many pairs as he’d stripped off of women’s bodies in the past, he’d never really paid them much attention. Getting them off had been the only objective. Pun intended.

He shoved a hand through his hair. Wash colors, rises, cuts, lengths, flares, hem styles filled his range of vision. How could a fabric as simple as denim be so freaking complicated?

“You know, women’s jeans are more of an advanced shopping maneuver. We should start with something easier.”

“How about panties? Would they be easier for you?” Her frustrated voice carried loud enough for a couple of pre-teen girls to giggle, the older woman chaperoning them to gasp, and for Nik to, son of a bitch, blush. Thank God his stubble had grown thick enough to hide most of the evidence.

Delighting in his torment, Thea smiled in amusement as her eyes lit. He’d been slow to catch on to how much she stoked his fire when he couldn’t do shit about it. Or could he? He envisioned running his hand under the filmy material of the dress, up the gentle curve behind her thigh, and giving her bare butt a playful smack. Unfortunately the area still had too many friendlies, so he tilted his head and fired off, “Sounds like a great idea, considering you’re not wearing any.”

Well, that cleared the area faster than a flash bang. The woman wrangled her snickering charges and bugged out. That should teach the filterless flirt a lesson in discretion. If not, there was still the option of swatting her sweet ass. He turned in time to see his target swaying straight toward the damn lingerie department. Lengthening his stride, he caught up to her at a display of particularly sexy, brightly colored bras and bikinis.

Bracing his arms on the racks alongside her, he flexed his muscles and leaned in, hissing, “You know, for a fugitive, you’re not being very discreet.”

“You said no one in Colorado would even know who I am or what happened in Kansas,” she countered, reminding him of the assurances he’d given back at the cabin. In actuality, all it had taken to convince her to compromise her cover was the promise of a bacon and sweet roll breakfast. “Besides, what’s so shocking about the word ‘panties’?”

“You embarrassed those girls.”

“You embarrassed them more than I did and you were the only one blushing.”

He growled, realizing she was right. “Just stop saying that word.”

“Panties? Why?”

Because I’d like to be able to walk without a goddamn hard-on for one freaking… “Never mind! Just try not to attract any more attention.”

He didn’t want to alarm her, but while he wasn’t too worried about the incident at Animal Control being an issue in Colorado, he was concerned about the black SUV chasing her before the tornado. The same one he’d spotted prowling around her wrecked truck the next day. Unfortunately, black SUVs were a dime a dozen in the mall parking lot.

Nik kept his eyes roving across the various entrances and exits, while also noting anyone who seemed at all out of place. His scrutiny returned time and again to the six-foot-two, stubble-roughened man with tattoos standing in the land of silk and lace. Nikolas Steele—the most suspicious of them all.

Suspicious? No, no, no. He belonged here just fine. This was all part of ordinary, everyday life he needed to get used to being a part of. A man shopping at the mall with his girl screamed normal. Right? Movies, dinners, amusement parks—regular couples did these things.

Whoa. Back the convoy up, soldier.

His girl? Couple?

What was next? A grocery store run? And how about a freaking trip to Bed Bath & Beyond Boring while he was at it?

Wouldn’t be a bad idea to pick up some nicer towels and a decent bathmat…and they did need eggs and milk. Maybe some scented laundry soap…like Tropical Sunset or Wildflower Gorge. Women liked that kind of shit, right? Plus, Titan needed dog food and probably a bed of some kind. Maybe one those squeaky balls like the Team dogs went apeshit over.

Nik shook his head. What. The. Hell was he thinking? They’d barely shared more than a few heated kisses and suddenly his bathmat wasn’t cloud-like enough for her angelic toes? His towels not luxuriously plush enough to touch her silky smooth, mouthwatering skin? Squeaky balls? Floral fucking laundry soap? Seriously? No, what he needed was See Ya, Gotta Go scented soap—like the burning rubber of a set of Jeep tires leaving skid marks. Or maybe it would be faster to radio in for