“And adorable.” I grin, tiptoeing up to kiss his lips.
He growls playfully, lifting me up and tossing me on the bed. “Me man. You sexy woman.”
Then he’s falling on top of me while I giggle and fight to get away from all his kisses. Until I realize my stupidity and meet his mouth, melting for him all over again.
“We don’t have time.”
“I own the plane.”
“I thought it blew up.”
“I haven’t done it yet. Now kiss me, woman.”
This man.
Heisadorable, and I’m certain I’m wrong about him. I hope so, because while I had no intention of getting into a relationship, if he wanted one I might say yes.
And if he doesn’t, over the next few weeks I’ll be piecing together the part of my heart he’s stolen while I wasn’t paying attention.
My phone beeps.
Travis groans. “I’m going to the bathroom, then we need to get downstairs.”
With one last passionate kiss, he climbs off and lifts me to my feet. Then pats my bottom and walks away. I chew my nails and watch the sexy man, taking in his confident swagger.
Hot.
Then I frown, remembering that even if he did want a relationship, Travis owns a sex club. He’s not shared that with me, so it’s obviously his dirty secret. Will he go there tonight after we get home?
Ugh.
I grab my phone, see Scott’s name and almost ignore it, but something makes me swipe and read the message.
B, I know you said not to ever do this, but after the comment about his family by the legal team, I got super curious. Whois the family? There isn’t anyone except this Terrance kid. But we’ve found zip about him. So...”
Shit. I bite my lip.
What has he done?
The kid just vanished about fourteen years of age. I got my government contact to do a trace.
I curse.
Get this—his records are protected. Sealed.
What the hell? I glance up just as Travis walks out of the bathroom.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Terrance Taylor's records are sealed. Did you know about this?”
“How the fuck did you find that out?” He snaps angrily.
I flinch, surprised by his reaction. I understand the guy was his friend, but if there is more going on here, he shouldn’t have raised it with me. I am a journalist doing a story on the guy's father, what did he expect?
Those voices in my head screaming at me again.
Open your eyes.
