Truth Be Told (Blackbridge Security Book 4) Marie James (latest novels to read TXT) 📖

here late in the evening the last couple of days, he’s been skipping those training sessions. Another realization that makes me think back to a time when I watched him lift weights when we were younger. Knowing I liked it when he did push-ups without a shirt on, he made sure to strip down before getting into position. There’s just something about a man’s back muscles working hard that gets me fired up.

I clear my throat as if he can see inside my head and go back to the counter for another load of things needing to go into the fridge.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“The groceries?” I hedge, trying to steer the conversation away from where my thoughts have taken me.

He doesn’t allow for it, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s another manipulation, like almost kissing me the other night before pulling away. I couldn’t sleep that night, mostly because that day, getting terrible news about my mom, was one of the top five worst days of my life. He drew me in only to slam that door because he wants to hurt me again.

He chuckles. “The groceries? No, Tinley. You’re thinking about me working out. I can take my shirt off and get on the floor if it’ll help get your head out of that dark place it’s always going.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” I tell him, a smile creeping up unbidden.

I turn to find him closer to me than I realized he was, forcing me to tilt my head back to look into his dark, stormy eyes.

His teeth scrape over his bottom lip in that way that has always had the power to make me perk up and take notice. It’s the same now as it was thirteen years ago, and I find myself entranced with the sight of his mouth, the way his cupid’s bow fits perfectly on his face.

My own tongue betrays my interest by swiping across my bottom lip. A groan echoes around us, and I’m too far gone to determine which one of us made the sound.

“Do you know how fucking tempting you are?”

He steps in closer, the celery, carrots, and head of lettuce in my hands keeping him from closing the distance completely.

This is a bad idea. I know it as sure as the doctors know my mother came back home to die. But just like the insidious cancer eating away at her, I have no power to stop this either.

“Ignacio,” I whisper, a plea for him to pump the brakes because I’m not able.

“Tinley,” he counters, but there’s no mocking tone to his voice as he leans over the produce in my arms to get his face closer to mine.

His palm brushes my cheek, the touch a hot brand on my skin. I fail at not leaning into it. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched by a man. Years since one has shown even a hint of the sincerity and desperate need I can see in Ignacio’s eyes. Being wanted, even if nothing can happen, is like a balm to my soul, a reassurance that I’m not someone he can look past and not desire. Him being who he is and the heaps of stuff between us becomes inconsequential the closer he gets.

My eyes flutter closed just as his mouth brushes my own, a whimper of need and pain escaping my lips.

“She’s resting comfortably.”

We snap apart, the head of lettuce in my hands falling to the floor and rolling across the room.

Patricia, the hospice nurse, bends down to pick it up as if she didn’t just interrupt what could’ve been the biggest mistake I’ve made in over a decade. She hands it back to me as Ignacio steps away and begins carrying canned goods to the pantry.

“I think the new meds will make her able to get restful sleep. Do you have a few minutes to talk about the side effects and what to look for?”

I nod, setting down the produce and following her out of the room. It takes fifteen minutes for Patricia to explain all the things she needs to tell me, having made it as easy as possible with a chart on what medications to give and how often.

When we’re done, I walk out of Mom’s room to find Ignacio not in the house and his truck missing from the curb. Although I breathe a sigh of relief not to have to face him again so soon after nearly kissing him for the second time, I feel a little twinge of regret for being interrupted before it could happen in the first place.

Hopefully, he stays gone for a while. Dealing with the emotions he’s dragged back to the surface after so long, in addition to what’s happening with my mother and making sure Alex is as comfortable with what’s going on as I can is exhausting. Doing all of that while he’s right in my face would be impossible.

Chapter 17

Ignacio

I never understood how people could move around each other, be in the same space after something happens that shouldn’t have and not talk about it. Yet here I am living that reality.

Four days ago, I nearly kissed Tinley. Again.

Four days ago, I hauled ass out of her house with the intent to stay away until she or Alex called to tell me they needed or wanted me there. It lasted two hours. I went back to my shitty little house, geared up for a run, completed said run in record time, fueled by need and rage and utter helplessness, only to shower and go right back to her house.

Last night, I didn’t even leave. I fell asleep on the couch watching television with Alex only to wake up this morning to the sun glaring on my face through a crack in the front curtains. I’m counting the blanket covering me when I woke as a peace offering and forgiveness for taking advantage of the situation four days ago and nearly pressing my mouth