Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

She set the food on the table along with a carafe of sparkling water. “I thought you might pass on the wine if your wound is bothering you.”

“You’d be correct. I’m pretty sure I won’t need any anti-inflammatories, unless this scrape surprises me and starts aching in the middle of the night. Besides, you know I don’t drink on duty. Don’t let it stop you, though.”

“I’m good.” She wanted to remain alert, too. “I honestly don’t know what was scarier—being directly attacked by that thug or the gunshots. The bullets came from nowhere.”

“Only one made contact, and barely at that. This looks amazing, Dominique. You’ve outdone yourself. Thank you.” They sat across from one another.

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do, now that you took a bullet for me.”

He grimaced. “Please. Your storytelling abilities are evident.”

She laughed. “I don’t write fiction, only the truth, backed up with facts. You definitely took the fire today and saved both of our lives.”

“Why don’t we declare the dinner table a cartel-free zone for now? We both deserve a quiet meal to regroup.”

“Works for me.”

They dug in. Dominique was grateful for the meal to focus on, instead of her resolve against allowing her attraction to Stanton to overtake her common sense. He’d promised more when he’d kissed her in Troy’s office earlier, but since he’d been shot between then and now, she figured he’d forgotten. It was for the best; neither of them needed anything to take them away from their main missions. His to protect her and hers to finish the story.

No matter the keen stabs of disappointment that peppered an otherwise enjoyable meal with her bodyguard ex.

* * *

Stanton had lied. His arm hurt like hell, and it was a combination of the minor bullet wound and how he’d landed on it when he’d covered Dominique from the gunfire. He’d had to convince her to stay out of the exam with the ER doctor and thank goodness he had. The doc had told him to take it easy and use ibuprofen regularly for the next several days. As a former collegiate athlete, Stanton was familiar with muscle pain. What wasn’t familiar was having to hide it from someone else. He didn’t want Dominique worried. She’d been through more in the last two days than probably her entire life, no matter her tough reporter facade.

The last thing he wanted was for her to think they shouldn’t finish what they’d started in Troy’s office earlier. He didn’t give a fig’s tree about his arm and needed to make sure Dominique didn’t think it precluded him from being able to make good on his promise.

Not a good idea, man. Not if you want to keep yourself together after she’s gone again.

“You’re awfully quiet. Is the cioppino that bad?”

He grinned. “Not at all—it’s beyond compare. Don’t tell my mother, but yours is my favorite.”

“Really?” Her tone suggested total disbelief and he waited until she looked at him.

“Really. After you left, the one thing I regretted most was that you hadn’t written your recipe down for me.” He maintained a straight face until her nonplussed expression yielded to narrowed eyes and a smirk.

“You are still such a jerk.” She laughed and tossed her napkin at him.

“Whoa!” He feinted a dodge and inadvertently slammed his injured arm on the solid maple table’s edge. Ouch.

“You okay? Oh, Stanton, did you hit your wound?” Her mirth changed to concern tinged with a healthy dose of annoyance.

“Stop saying ‘wound’ like I have a life-threatening injury.”

She let out a sigh and reached over to retrieve her napkin. He took the opportunity to grasp her hand.

“Stanton...” She said his name like a prayer. Tugged her hand, but he held tight as he stood up and leaned across the table.

“How do you want this, Dominique? Messy and full of crushed shellfish, or in my bed?”

She gasped, and he let the fullness of his arousal hit him at the sight of her pupils dilating under the chandelier that hung over the table. He pulled her hand to his face, keeping their faces inches apart, and stroked the inside of her wrist, her palm, with his tongue.

“No, wait.” Breathless, she tugged her hand from his grasp and this time he let go. The seconds it took her to walk around the end of the table and stop next to him felt like eternity. She didn’t touch him, didn’t move, but stared up at him. “If we do this, it will change everything.” Her eyes beseeched him but he didn’t know what she was asking. What had he missed?

“It doesn’t have to. It can make things better.” He balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her before she was ready. This had to be entirely her choice.

“How?” She kept staring at him, and he saw her eyes move as if she was absorbing every inch of his face. Her skin, smooth as silk, highlighted the dark curtain of hair that flowed over her shoulders like inky black liquid. He’d never met anyone more beautiful.

“We can make a new ending for ourselves.” He thought it was the most brilliant thing he’d ever thought of. Except for the pit in his gut that told him he didn’t want anything to do with “ending” what he and Dominique shared.

Her lips lifted into a small smile. “I’d like that. A different last memory.”

“So you’re in?” Waiting for her to answer took all his strength.

“Yes, Stanton. I’m in.” Only when her hands touched his shoulders, her arms wound around his neck, did he let go.

“This first time isn’t going to take very long.” He sounded like a Neanderthal and felt more primal as all he could think of was joining together with this woman in the most fundamental way possible. Their lips met without preamble and they progressed to tongues, touching each other’s most erotic places and loud groans. When she grasped his length and stroked him through his suit pants, he tore his