How easy it is to use and abuse and discard me like I’m nothing.
But that was the old Jasmine.
This Jasmine — the one currently eye-fucking the sexiest British gunman in all of Texas, most likely the entire South — doesn’t feel small, and she sure as hell doesn’t like men. But hot is hot, no matter the gender, and Landon is fucking smoldering.
The click of Landon’s tongue snaps me back to the moment, and the man is nodding in agreement with the barrel lightly tapping his right temple. “Good boy, coglione! No go run off to yourwhore of a mob boss and tell him this pretty girl is under my protection.”
“Y-yes Landon.” He nods, taking one tentative step backwards.
Landon waves with just his four fingers, with what I imagine is a cocky-ass smile on his face that the Italian man runs like his pants are on fire, no looking back. I fold my arms across my chest and settle on my right hip as I look at the ripple of muscles along his back.
He sighs, turning around and stuffing his gun into the waistline of his jeans. “When I finally introduced myself to you, I was hoping it would’ve been more dashing.”
My lips twitch into a smile against my will, and I shrug. “I don’t know, threatening to kill my kidnapper is kind of heroic, in my opinion.”
Landon smiles, one of those pearly white panty-dropping smiles that you only see in the movies. He runs an open hand through his curly brown hair, while the other pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“I can deal withheroic.” He slides a cigarette into his mouth and pulls a lighter out of his front pants pocket, right next to his gun.
“Great, well, I love that you love being the hero,” I say, grabbing one of the garbage bags stuffed with all my things, “but I just realized you saidwhen I finally introduced myself—so, I’m guessing you’re a stalker.” I sigh, hoisting the bag. “So thanks for not murdering me, but I’m gonna bounce.”
I reach for the other bag as he lights a cigarette, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat as he shakes his head.
“Oh no, Peach—you’re coming with me.”
“Peach?” I snort, stepping to the side to pass him, but his hand wraps around my arm. “Uh… that’s my arm,” I deadpan.
“No, Peach.” He grins, tightening his hold just slightly. “Thisis my arm, because you’re coming with me.” He winks, pulling me in just enough that the scent of ocean air—clean, a little salty, with a hint of sage—hits me, and for a second, I almost gasp at how stupidly good he smells.
“And where exactly are you takingyourarm?” I narrow my eyes, playing along, because well—I’m only human, and he’s, once again, the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, and that’s when it hits me: there’s something diabolical about a man who knows exactly how attractive he is—and downright devilish about one so confident—I feel this sudden, burning urge to knock him down about thirty pegs. Hell, it would be my crowning achievement if I could get a guy like Landon to fall for me. It would probably be my undoing if I actually could get Landon himself to worship me.
Fuck! I haven’t thought like this in years! Where’s Willow when you need to talk about one guy who makes you more bi-curious than gay?
“There is a man who asked me to keep an eye on you, and I think it is important for him to know that people are now trying tokillyou.” Landon flicks the cigarette and shrugs as if he is doingmea favor.
I let out a sharp breath, folding my arms. “Oh, so you do other guys’ stalking for them? That’s cute.”
Landon lets his smirk curl lazily at the corner of his mouth, that British drawl wrapping around the words like silk. “It’s easy to stalk someone when they’re this great to look at.”
I snort, hoisting one of the garbage bags higher on my shoulder. “Well, too bad you’re wasting your time—I’m batting for my team. Sorry babe.”
His grin only deepens, a flicker of mischief in those ocean-colored eyes. He takes a step closer, cigarette dangling between his plush, pink lips. “You sure about that, love?”
I open my mouth, ready to fire back some snappy reply, but then his free hand lifts—slow, deliberate—and two fingers brush against the side of my neck, right where my pulse is hammering like it’s trying to break free.
I stiffen, a flush creeping up my throat before I can stop it.Dammit.
His voice dips lower, velvet-smooth. “Because your eyes are dilated, your breathing’s shallow”—his fingers linger just a second too long on my neck right above the pulse of my heart—“and your heartbeat…”
He leans in slightly, his breath warm against my ear.
“…is beating out of control, love.”
I huff, jerking my head back just enough to glare up at him. “Congratulations, Sherlock. You’ve discovered the human fight-or-flight response.”
Landon chuckles under his breath, stepping back just enough to give me space—but not enough to stop that insufferable, gorgeous grin. “Oh, I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the ‘flight’ type.”
