Checking out of one hotel only to return to another, the glamorous life of an undercover marshal. He tucked Tabitha’s cell and the canister of pepper spray into his back pocket and slung his duffel over one shoulder while he grabbed the now-empty suitcase in his other hand. He took one last look around before opening the door— “Hey.” Tabitha stood on the other side, her fist held up as though she’d been about to knock. His body sparked with excitement at her nearness. Hell, he was worse than some teenage girl, all fluttering nerves and bullshit unease. “Hey.” Way to articulate, dipshit. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Awkward had nothing on this moment. At once, Damien was ashamed of the way things went down last night. How he’d all but climbed over her like a rutting bull, driven by some primal urge. She walked through the doorway, past him, and Damien caught the faint scent of her perfume. The sweet floral bouquet went straight to his head and made him want to seduce her into agreeing to whatever wicked sexual act he could think of.
