New Recruit by Em Petrova Page B

said.
    “From the place on the corner?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s the same place I order from. I love their chicken in garlic sauce.” They said the last together, and a cocky smile spread over his face. She might try to run from him, but they had things in common to explore. They were from the same ‘hood, had the same taste in food, and had actually come at the same moment. None of these things equaled true love, but they weren’t finished.
    “I’ll order,” she said. As she sashayed from the room, his balls clenched with want. All those sweet curves tucked into a feisty package.
    While she ordered takeout, Jagger went into the bathroom, found a paper cup, and filled it with water. He carried it back to her window, where a sole violet plant rested on the sill, soaking up what sunlight it could with the building opposite blocking the rays.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    He shot her a crooked smile. “That yard work you paid for.” He made a show of plucking off a dead leaf and then watering the plant. “There. Money well-spent.”
    She burst out laughing, a throaty, breathless noise that raised the hairs on his body and awakened his cock from the ten-minute rest it had gotten. “Glad to help out. What kind of building project does the firehouse need funded?”
    “Parts of the building are unsafe and aren’t up to code.”
    She lifted a brow at that, and the sight of her standing mere feet from the rumpled bed they’d just crawled out of gave him an insta-boner.
    “How can a city building not be up to code?”
    “Exactly, yet I did some research and found several firehouses are actually condemned, though they’re still in use.”
    “That’s crazy!”
    “Yeah. East Street isn’t so bad off, but it will be in a year without the money to make these fixes. So from the bottom of our hearts, East Street Fire Company thanks you for your donation.” He held his hand over his heart and bowed at the waist. The tinkling music of her laugh hit his system like a spark to dry tinder. He straightened. Dropped his hands to his sides and took a step toward her.
    That nervous look passed over her features again. When he reached for her, she whirled away. “Let’s see what’s on Netflix.”
    “I hear among the teen set, if you say you’re going to watch Netflix and chill, it means you’re having sex.”
    “We’ve already done that.”
    He followed her through her sparse apartment, wondering if she’d help him organize his own. Hell, he had far more junk than she did. All those unpacked boxes were becoming more daunting as time passed. But he had a feeling Hanna wasn’t one of those women who liked organizing and fussing over details.
    She plopped onto her apartment-sized sofa and tucked her legs beneath her.
    He stared down at the top of her head, that tight feeling trapped in his chest again. “I know what you’re doing, Hanna.”
    “What’s that?” Her big eyes were fringed with the darkest of lashes. All of a sudden images of those lashes lowering as he sucked rum off her body flooded his head.
    “Every time I try to get close to you, you change the subject or walk away from me. We’re not nearly finished, Hanna.” Before she could protest, he sat beside her and tugged her against his side.
    She wasn’t exactly relaxed, but she wasn’t clawing to get away from him either. A good sign. She reached for the remote and switched on the TV. Five minutes later they’d agreed to a series they both had on their watch lists.
    He couldn’t focus on the characters, though. Hanna was distracting as hell. Wearing his shirt, for fuck’s sake. She’d kept it. Had worn it. It smelled like fresh laundry soap, and he tugged her closer just so he could bury his nose against her neck. She unraveled her legs and scooted across the cushion to sit in the crook of his arm.
    Damn, this felt good. Too good. For many months he’d avoided women, determined to reach his goals. He shouldn’t be messing with her now.