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

last eight hours. After they’d had mind-blowing sex in the living room, they’d almost made it to the bedroom before they detoured to the bathroom and the tiled shower. Then later, much later, they’d taken their time in his bed, savoring each and every stroke, kiss and whispered plea.

Well, at least she knew she’d savored it all. It seemed Stanton did, too, but she couldn’t go there. If she did, it’d be too easy to think they’d be able to pick up where they’d left off, or maybe a few moments before he’d proposed and she’d freaked out. Why hadn’t she at least told him all she needed was a break, instead of ending it like that?

Fear, pure and simple. She’d been afraid of the strength of their connection. Since that first time they’d met and he’d convinced her to go for coffee with him, she’d known that Stanton was going to change her life. It had been during an early spring snowstorm and she’d been at GGPD to research a story. Stanton had stopped in to check on Melissa, who’d had a particularly rough time with a case that required her to fire her weapon. Dominique had noticed his physique first—it was impossible to pass up the way his body filled his custom-tailored suits—but once she looked into those brilliant baby blues, the ground under her boots had moved. She remembered the outfit she’d worn, too—short black wool skirt, ribbed tights, her favorite red Hunter rubber boots. It had bothered her that she was in the more practical boots instead of her killer heeled leather ones—that was how badly she’d wanted to impress him. Because he’d impressed the heck out of her. Their romance was storybook. Until long work hours on both their parts, complicated by both of their driven natures, had turned the romance part sour.

The sex, though—that had never been anything but sweet. And hot.

His arm moved, his hand reaching for hers, intertwining their fingers. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Neither are you.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m good.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re overthinking this. Just enjoy it. We can both use the rest, and—” he shifted and rose up, swearing as he put weight on his bad arm “—it’s still dark out. Let’s try for another hour.”

She turned onto her back and looked at him. “Do you need more ibuprofen? You could piggyback it with Tylenol if the pain’s worse.”

“I’ll live. It didn’t wake me up.”

“I’m sorry that I did. I suppose it’s the strange bed. But I slept like a log until now.”

“Your brain never shuts down,” he said.

“Neither does yours.”

“Shhh.” He settled on his back and indicated she should rest her head on his shoulder.

“No, not this side. You’re bruised. Here.” She got up and quickly rounded the bed, slid under the covers next to him, on his uninjured side. “Your shoulder is a hard pillow.”

“Then come here.” He helped her snuggle down onto his chest, and she forced her thoughts to a back burner. Stanton was correct. This wasn’t the time to rethink anything. As her cheek lay against his bare chest, his hair tickling her skin but in the best way, her body relaxed against him. Her lids grew heavy and the last thing she heard before drifting back to sleep was the sound of his heartbeat under her ear. Slow and steady. Dependable.

For a precious moment, she forgot she was in the crosshairs of a killer.

CHAPTER 11

Stanton woke later that morning to an empty bed. He looked around the room and saw no signs that Dominique had ever been in here, save for her scent in the sheets. His arm complained as he rolled to sit on the side of his bed. The doc was right; he’d need more meds to keep it from becoming a distraction. But there wasn’t anything he could take, or do, to keep him from his main distraction: Dominique.

She’d rocked his world last night. Judging from her reactions to their lovemaking, she was feeling the same. Except she hadn’t stayed, even though she’d drifted back to sleep after waking him up with her restlessness before dawn. The sound of the guest shower door closing and running water told him where she was. But it gave no clue as to what she was thinking or feeling. Did she already regret their actions?

His phone buzzed with calendar alerts related to Colton Protection and he allowed a wave of relief to calm him down. At least he had his business to take care of while he waited for Dominique to conduct more police interviews and probably stop at the Gazette today. He’d been able to put her off going into her office long enough. Security training told him she didn’t need to be anywhere near an obvious place she normally went. It would make her an easier target for the cartel to hit. Yet he also knew that Jimenez shied away from highly visible sites for shootouts. He preferred dark alleys, far from the glare of public opinion. To try to take out Dominique at the local media outlet was plain stupid. Of course, Stanton thought firing outside of the police station wasn’t a brilliant move, either. Yet it had happened, and from the texts he had from Troy, it was a confirmed cartel hit.

He called Melissa to see if there was any other news on Jimenez or cartel-related crime.

“Chief Colton.”

“It’s me. Your brother Stanton.” Usually she answered with a warmer greeting. Her curt identification underscored how stressed she was.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s all hands on deck, as I’m sure you caught a whiff of yesterday.”

“Anything I need to know for my current assignment?”

“Other than keep Dominique in hiding until this is all over, which she’s not going to agree to? No, nothing I can really talk about yet.”

“I’m not asking you to tell me any details, but give me a break, Melissa. If there’s more threats against Dominique I have the right to know.”

“It doesn’t get worse than being in a kingpin’s