Free Perfect Fling by Carly Phillips Page B

keep a detachment from the subject he didn’t feel. He’d gone through a rough case of post-traumatic stress disorder after his first undercover op ended. And though his superiors and the department shrink had assured him that most felt it at one time or another, Cole had fought like hell to overcome the debilitating reaction.
    “What do you mean?” Erin asked.
    “Rationally you know everything is okay, but your mind takes you back in time and you have no control over your body or its reactions.” Just the explanation had him gritting his teeth, knowing how close to the surface his own memories actually were. His fingers curled into tight fists, until Erin’s soft groan of pain alerted him to the fact that he was pinching the skin beneath her blouse.
    He ran his thumbs over her arm by way of apology.
    “How do you know so much about it?” she asked.
    “Water, just like you wanted,” Edgar said, shoving a bottle at her.
    “Thanks,” she said.
    Cole opened the bottle and she drank, leaving him well aware that he’d been granted a reprieve from her question. Much of his work was confidential; more of it was shit he didn’t like or need to talk about. He had the required shrink sessions for that and he’d learned to put it behind him when he walked away. But Erin was persistent, and he wondered how long it would be before she pushed him for answers he wasn’t ready to give, or how long he could hold out against the pull she had over him.
    She wasn’t deliberately tempting him, that much he knew. If anything, she was keeping her distance, or had been until he drew her into his lap, wrapped her in his arms, and shielded her from her own fears. It was part of her appeal, the way she held on to her dignity and pride. But living with her, taking care of her—hell, just being around her twenty-four seven—Erin was becoming harder and harder to resist.

Six
    The rest of the week passed with no repeat of Erin’s panic attack, though she couldn’t stop thinking about that out-of-control feeling—and the sense she had that Cole knew more about what she’d experienced than he’d let on. She’d asked, he hadn’t offered up information, and she’d let it go. Just as she’d let it go when he’d wondered aloud what his mother would have done had there been a pro bono clinic back when she’d left his father.
    She still hoped for answers one day, but he was so self-contained, she doubted they’d be forthcoming.
    Neither Cole nor her brothers wanted her out in public, in places like Joe’s Bar, where she was an easy target, and Erin wasn’t used to being confined. Having Cole for company definitely helped her when she was feeling cooped up or antsy.
    As she readied for bed, washing up, brushing her teeth, and moisturizing well, she glanced in the mirror at her bare stomach. Not quite flat anymore, there was a slight roundness now that clothes still hid, and her breasts were more sensitive and slightly fuller. She swallowed hard, knowing no matter how not-ready she felt, she’d better get there and fast. Her parents were coming home Wednesday, and she’d have to tell them about her pregnancy, the shooting, and her new roommate-slash-bodyguard.
    She climbed into bed and listened to the sounds of Cole in the next room. Familiar noises she was more than growing used to hearing. The creak of the floor as he walked, the sound of him opening, then closing, the bathroom door in the hall. If he worked out, doing sit-ups, push-ups, and chin-ups from a bar he hung in the bedroom doorway, he’d shower before bed.
    Erin didn’t know what was harder for her, knowing he was a few feet away, naked in her shower, or catching a glimpse of his bare chest and flexing muscles as he pulled himself up and lowered himself down from the bar, working out the definition she’d once felt beneath her hands. Hot skin she’d once run her lips over, then followed with her tongue.
    Yes, bad-girl Erin was latent and begging to come out,