Shift Work (Carus #4) by J.C. McKenzie Read Free Book Online

“So, you’re once again employed. I worried you’d go independent.”
    I choked on my wine. I bubbled down my throat with pockets of air and left it raw. What did Tristan mean by that? He’d been so calm through all my worries, which helped keep me grounded. His worry rated at the same level as my calm. I swallowed another mouthful of sweet wine. “What would you have done?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “If I’d gone independent, would it have changed things for you?”
    Tristan frowned. “Of course not. I would’ve offered you a job with my company.” He tilted his head. “But I suspect you would’ve refused me.”
    Got that right. My boyfriend as my boss? No, thank you.
    “Even if you went independent and down that dark path, I’d be right beside you the entire way.”
    “I didn’t want that option either. I’d rather go for an office job.” A shudder spread through my body. Office job? Well, it beat the alternative. An independent contractor essentially meant a thug for hire. Plenty of ex-SRD agents went that way. What else could they do with their narrow skill set and less-than-average social skills? After slowly finding my humanity, a process that took over fifteen years from the time I walked out of the forest, the last thing I wanted to do was take a step back. De-evolution was so not my thing.
    “I can’t picture you in an office,” Tristan said.
    “No?”
    “No.” His lips twitched. “In a library, on the other hand… I can picture you with your hair up in a tight bun, wearing dark-rimmed glasses and giving me a death stare to be quiet.”
    “Hah!” I took a sip. “I wouldn’t give you a death stare.”
    Tristan picked up his wine, reclining back in his chair. “You’re right. You’d give me something much better.”
    “Oh? And what’s that?”
    “The same come-hither naughty librarian look you just gave me a moment ago.”
    I bit the inside of my lip before guzzling some wine.
    “I like red on you.”
    “You like everything on me.”
    He shook his head. “Not true.”
    “Oh?”
    He gently placed his wine glass down. “I despise that shirt.”
    The heat in Tristan’s gaze gave away his desire. I glanced down at my tight, black wrap top. It accentuated the girls and trimmed my waist. I smoothed my hands down the shirt and arched my back.
    Tristan’s smile grew.
    “What has this shirt ever done to you?” The tension in my body roughened my voice. Low and husky, it vibrated from my chest, followed with a purr as my mountain lion pressed for control.
    “You said I like everything on you. Right now, I’d prefer that shirt off.” He nodded at my outfit. “Same goes for the rest of your clothing.”
    This time a different sensation spread over my body. Like molten honey, my blood pulsed through my veins.
    Tristan raised himself out of his seat and slowly walked the step and a half to my end of the table. He held out his hand. Mine slipped into his with a mind of its own. The skin-on-skin contact tingled my fingers and palm. He smiled, took my other hand, and pulled me from my seat. It happened with acute slowness, yet my vision blurred as if I stood too fast.
    I stepped into the hard edges of his physique as if he was cut from the same stone as me, yin to my yang, the icing to my cupcake. I licked my lips. I loved icing. Tristan’s porcelain skin shone with vitality and permeated with his delicious scent. I leaned in and licked his neck. The taste of him coated my tongue, sweet, yet salty. Intoxicating.
    A deep rumble emitted from his chest and his strong arms wrapped around me. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered into my hair.
    “Why?” I ran my tongue along his jaw. Like a drug, I couldn’t get enough.
    “You never gave up. I know you were stressed about finding a job, but you kept your head the entire time. You didn’t whine or beg me to save you.” He emphasized his last words by running his hands up my back and then down again to cup my ass. “Though, I