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He started walking, oblivious to the agony that cut across her face. My fingers clenched around his arm. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What I have to do,” he said carefully, his voice like rolling thunder as his eyes met mine. “Now I need you to do the one fucking thing I asked, brother…and take care of her.”
He wrenched his arm from my grasp and strode from the room without any hesitation. The moment the door closed with a thud, I turned to her with a raised brow.
“He thinks if you fuck me, you’ll protect me.”
“What?” I shook my head, rage burning inside me. “That motherfucker.”
She stepped closer, meeting my stare as she took the lace lingerie from my hand.
I stared at her. She gripped the lace. “Do you hate him for it?”
“Yes.” I clenched my jaw. “Your body isn’t to be bargained for, not by a man, at least.”
There was that dark need rising to the surface again. She took the garment and stepped into it, sliding it up over her body before tugging it into place. “Women do it all the time. A fancy dinner or a holiday to Greece. You think women don’t fuck to get what they want?”
Her voice was harder, strained, like she was barely keeping it together. “I know they do,” I answered. “But that doesn’t mean he has to do it for you.”
She stilled, sliding the strap into place and lifted her gaze to me. “Maybe when this is over and done, we might all strike a bargain ourselves?”
I stilled. Did she mean…
“You want my body. I want yours.” She flicked some elastic into place and lifted her gaze. “And your brothers’…if they’re willing.”
I hadn’t thought about that. She couldn’t want all of us, could she? I was starting to understand that I knew nothing when it came to the needs of a woman. Especially not this one.
“If that’s what you want,” I agreed.
Her eyes widened and her brows inched upwards. There was a tight curl at the corner of her lips before she moved, grabbed the bottom of my balaclava and tugged it upwards. I grasped her hand, hard at first then eased my hold, remembering who it was I held.
Memories of her flickered in my head. Images of her on the monitor in front of me.
Images with my brother.
Her legs wide. His fingers buried between them.
Fuck, she sent my damn heart racing.
I curled my spine, yielding to her.
“Maybe then you’ll let me see the man behind the mask?” she whispered against my lips.
I turned her hand and pressed my lips to the inside of her wrist and inhaled the scent of her. “Maybe.”
Beep.
My cell ruined the moment. She exhaled and turned her head. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into her and kissing her lips. “I’ll be right behind you tonight,” I murmured. “No one is going to get past me, little fighter.”
She gave a ghost of a smile. The one she used to hide her worry. Still, I saw it. Just like I saw everything. I straightened, tugged my mask back in place and strode to the closet, yanking one of the guy’s shirts from inside.
I tugged the shirt over her shoulders. “They don’t get to look at you.”
Beep.
I frowned, grabbed my cell, and glanced at the screen.
Kyrell: St. James and his group are here.
