Dream of you by Jennifer L. Armentrout
(Website, Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads)Publication Date: June 23rd, 2015
Buy the Book in Amazon • Source: InkSlinger PR
Abby Erickson isn't looking for a one-night stand, a relationship, or anything that involves any one-on-one time, but when she witnesses a shocking crime, she's thrust into the hands of the sexiest man she's ever seen - Colton Anders. His job is to protect her, but with every look, every touch, and every simmering kiss, she's in danger of not only losing her life but her heart also.
Detective Hart asked a few more questions. Did I notice if they had gotten in a car? No. Was a name even spoken? Not that I recalled. Did they say anything to the man they shot? I wasn’t sure. Eventually, he got up and left the room to retrieve some photos they wanted me to look at.
I was alone with Colton.
Any other time I probably would’ve been beside myself with nervousness, but at this point, I barely registered his presence. All I wanted to do was go home and forget this night.
My gaze slowly lifted at the sound of my name. His voice was deep and gruff—a morning voice.
He leaned toward me, placing his arms on the table. Short dark hairs dusted powerful forearms. The few times I’d seen him over the years, I hadn’t been in close proximity to him, but now I could see the tiny differences between the Colton I’d admired from afar in high school and the one sitting in front of me, some ten years later. Fine lines had formed around the corners of his eyes. His jaw seemed harder, and the five-o’clock shadow was something new.
I really needed to stop thinking in general.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Abby?” he asked, and real concern filled his voice.
I shook my head slowly as a shiver raced down my spine. “Yes. No? I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”
“I can imagine.” He glanced at the door as he moved his shoulders, as if working out a kink. “We’ll get you home soon.”
Slouching in the metal chair, I sighed. “Is this…the start of your shift or…?”
Colton’s cobalt gaze tracked back to me. “I usually get off around eight, but we work in cycles for homicide calls. It was our weekend.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, and then frowned. “I don’t even know why I apologized. It’s got to be hard working those kinds of hours, having to be on call.”
“I imagine it is for some, especially those with a family.” One side of his lips quirked up, and despite the dire situation, my stomach dipped a bit. He lifted his left hand. “Obviously, I’m not married. I wouldn’t know.”