Page 96 of Crash Course
I’m not the asshole.
She snuggled into him. Cradling her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling the clean scent of his soap while the hairs of his short beard tickled her forehead.
"If he keeps this up," she murmured, "he’ll wreck my career."
"We won’t let him."
We. That sounded so good. We.
She drew a hard breath and nodded like he could see her. "He’s a bully," she said. "I know this."
Regrettably, he stepped back, taking all that glorious comfort with him.
He held her at arm’s length and squeezed. "And the best way to get rid of a bully is?"
This she knew. Had learned from the best.
She knew what she had to do.
"Fight back," she said.
He jerked his head. "Damn straight. Come out to our place. We’ll dig into more files, see what we can find that might back him off."
Yes. She liked that idea. He’d help her. His brothers would help her. It might be the only thing she was sure of right now, but it was something.
"Stay at our place tonight," he continued. "I’ll show you around the property and you can decompress."
Shedidhave extra clothes since she’d intended on being in Asheville for a few days. "Your family won’t mind?"
"Given what just happened? No way. One thing I can promise is that we’ll plan out how to fight a bully together."
Together. Oh, this man. Not only would he help her, but he also had the balls to take on Darren Randolph.
For that alone, she could love him.
After a quiet dinnerin Cruz’s suite—she wasn’t ready for dinner with the fam after her own father had sabotaged her—Cilla caught up on some e-mails and they added an insane romp, besides the ones the night before, to Cilla’s sexual hall of fame.
Magic man, Cruz Blackwell.
He’d been gentle yet edgy. Not rough, but . . . something. Intense, maybe. Whatever it was, she liked it.
A lot.
Mired in a sleepy fog, she rolled sideways and smashed into what felt like a brick wall. She opened her eyes. A shaft of light from the living room squeaked under the closed door. Cruz’s bedroom. Obviously, she’d fallen asleep after the romp. He must have done the same.
The sound of deep breathing whipped her mind to attention.
Beside her, Cruz, flat on his back, one hand thrown above his head, snoozed away, his ripped chest rising and falling with each breath. Even now, completely worn out and her body sore in places where she hadn’t been sore in a very long time, she wanted more of whatever he might offer.
Passion, hugs, conversation, companionship. All of it.
How fascinating that this particular man, one unafraid of conflict, should come into her life just as Dad turned on her.
A bully. That’s what Cruz had called her father. He wasn’t wrong. She’d always known it, but hadn’t experienced Dad’s wrath firsthand. Then again, she’d never given him reason to turn on her. Maybe that was part of the problem. For years, she’d toed the line. Offering legal advice when he came dangerously close to breaking laws. In her own way, she’d managed him. Balanced keeping him satisfied while staying on the right side of the law.
All that changed when she’d run headlong into a ten-year-old with cancer.
She’d known the dangers of forever chemicals, and Dad’s insistence over the years that his company followed EPA guidelines had eased her concerns. Each time the government banned a substance, Dad assured her they’d stopped using it.
