Twist My Heart Brooke Taylor (classic books to read .TXT) 📖

a chore for him. I blinked back the wetness pooling in my eyes from the rush of warm emotions.

“My God, that was amazing.” Nik wiped his mouth one last time with the cloth napkin as he leaned back, stretching his body out. He was too busy handing the last of the plates and our dirty napkins over to Wanda to notice my eyes blinking or my lips twitching as I fought back tears.

“Oh, we’ll also need a triple cheeseburger—no bun, no veggies, no condiments—to go as well.” He turned back to me. “Can’t forget about Titan, can we?”

With that, I lost what little control I’d had over my face.

 

Chapter Nine

Nik slid his gaze across the table, expecting to be rewarded with one of Tigger’s multitude of captivating smiles. The slow, soft curious one where the tip of her pink tongue would peek out from the white edges of her teeth as the corners of her mouth rose. The oh-man-this-is-heaven one that started as a dance of gold in her eyes.

He’d been mesmerized by each and every variation for the past hour. But now she crinkled her nose like a sniffing rabbit. Brow furrowing in confusion, she tried to speak, but the words wedged in her throat and only came out as a squeak.

“Oh shit, what’s wrong?”

Her chin started trembling as her cheeks grew red and puffed out. Had she eaten something she was allergic to?

“Na…na…na…nothing’s wrong.” She sniffled.

Nothing’s wrong? Then why…? No no no…not…

Her eyes blurred before tears trickled down her cheeks. Crap. She was leaking.

“Don’t cry,” he said, feeling about as useless as if he’d told her to watch her step after she’d already tripped.

Nik pushed out a deep breath. Crying females weren’t exactly an extinct species in his world, but usually they were pissed off crying females, and those were much easier to defend against. This… This sentimental shit was like advanced warfare, requiring bomb diffusion techniques that went well beyond his training level.

He grappled for napkins, but the damn container was stuffed beyond reasonable capacity and the thin useless scraps tore into smaller, more useless scraps.

Damn it, where’s Wanda?

He needed backup. Now.

Nik could handle taking bullets, broken bones, waterboarding, being stranded in the mountains of Afghanistan with Coop, a nasty-breathed BUD/S instructor barking orders in his face, two hundred push-ups eating saltwater and sand in Coronado…but not this. Not from Tigger. Where was that damn quitter’s bell when he needed it?

“Seriously. Stop crying,” he commanded. “Now.”

“I… I…can’t.” The sniffing came harder. Scrubbing her balled-up fists against her reddened eyes did nothing to stop the dribbling, it only made it spread. Then he realized she was on the move, scooting out of the booth.

Oh shit… Incoming.

He maneuvered quickly, like the trained assassin he was, but after the huge meal it wasn’t fast enough. He barely got his knees freed from under the table. Stupid booth. Before he could stand and get distance, her body wedged between his legs and her arms came around his neck. Was she trying to strangle him? Strangle, hug…same difference. He’d rather she’d rammed a KA-BAR blade into his ribs. He’d at least know how to handle a knife attack as opposed to this…this…fire licking up his neck.

Had Wanda turned up the heat?

Why was his pulse pounding? His blood racing? Fucking hell, was he having a heart attack?

‘You don’t have one of those, you steel-hearted fool,’ his buddy Coop would’ve reminded him.

Thank God he didn’t, because it sure as hell felt like his ribs were caving in on some pathetically fragile organ. He fixed his eyes on the nearest exit door—Get off the X. Get some fresh air. Clear your head. He splayed his hand out to pat…pat…pat…her back. There there and all that.

It really wasn’t a big deal, he started to explain before attempting to set her aside so he could bolt for the back door. But as he rose, one whiff of the warm skin on her neck took him down quicker than a sniper’s bullet. Her scent snaked into his lungs like deliciously disorienting smoke. Whoa. It spread, filling him with the calming sedation of some damn good, pain-killing drugs.

Eager for more, he skimmed his hands down her back…her waist…her hip… He splayed his fingers behind her thighs and scooped her up into his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer, her body curling into his. Breathing in, he took another deep hit off her. Right against her flesh. Fuck yeah, that’s some good shit.

His forehead fell, resting on her shoulder as if she were the one meant to comfort him. Hell, being in the circle of her small arms seemed the safest place in the entire world. And it’d been way too long since anywhere in this world felt truly safe.

He swallowed back all the thoughts he kept tightly guarded, all the long-ago memories of holding someone like this, all the false notions of security. But the walls he’d built up inside himself years ago shimmied as if pounded by mortar strikes.

Cora.

Nik couldn’t make the world safe for her any more than this girl could make it safe for him. As much as he wanted to stay drugged up and enveloped in a warmth he’d long shut away and forgotten, he couldn’t risk the crush of those walls coming down all because a few pretty feelings got stirred up.

The jingle of bells snapped Nik’s eyes open. Being caught half out of the booth had left his back to the front door—the worst possible position. He craned his neck, the corner of his eye picking up a woman waiting to be seated. Her hand trembled, her eyes wide.

With a whoosh of warm air, the back door opened. Nik’s gaze pivoted to the man entering through it. A tinge of blood smeared his rolled-up, white shirtsleeves. Where the woman appeared distraught, the man’s energy fired with aggression, anger. Their unusual behavior sent up red flags in Nik’s already concerned mind. His right hand went to his Sig.

With a curt