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No…this is the murderer and criminal. Standing before me, as if prepared to strike at any moment, is the second-in-command for The Scorpions.
His demeanor dark and dangerous, the air crackling between us with tension as he stalks toward me. He doesn’t stop until we’re toe to toe and I have to tip my head back to peer into his thunderous gaze.
He’s like a fallen angel who’s been wronged and cast aside, fury pulsing through him so powerfully that it’s nearly tangible.
“You thought you’d fuck me, and I’d just forget why I was here in the first place?” His voice is hard and ruthless, eyes devoid of the heat they possessed hours ago.
“What?” Confusion blankets me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He leans in closer, forcing me against the wall. When the slab of concrete hits my back, something inside me flickers to life in warning.
My fingers twitch as I prepare to act. To do something I hadn’t anticipated. Not with him. Not after last night.
Not with the first man who touched me and didn’t so much as flinch at the sight of me. The man who hadn’t made a big deal about me keeping my shirt on. The man who’d caressed my body with a reverence I’d never known.
He picks up on it, of course. His eyes flick briefly to my hands. “You thinkin’ of grabbin’ a weapon, is that it?” Frosty green eyes bore into mine, his tone arctic. But before I can answer, he has both my hands pinned awkwardly above my head.
Panic spreads through me, licking through my veins with urgency. His long fingers threaded through both sets of mine, and his thumbs right above my own, prevent me from being able to touch my right thumb and finger together. Shit, shit, shit!
Faster than I can blink, he spins me around, pinning my front against the wall with his body, my hands and fingers still gripped in his immoveable hold.
Concrete abrades my cheek as it’s pressed against the hard, unforgiving surface. Still maintaining his hold of my hands, my fingers splayed awkwardly, he sweeps his other hand along my body. That large palm I’d become familiar with last night now searches me for a weapon.
I make another futile attempt at wriggling free of his stronghold. Damn him. Through gritted teeth, I mutter, “If this is you attempting a different type of foreplay, you’ve missed the mark.”
His hand glides along the inside of my jean-clad thigh and up to the apex. My nipples instantly peak and my panties grow damp at the memory of the pleasure those hands and fingers delivered last night.
Fucking traitorous body. I hate the way it still reacts to him.
His hand stops abruptly between my thighs to cup me, and I do my best to bite back a gasp. Hostility oozes from him while his proximity and touch elicit a needy tug deep inside me.
He brings his mouth to my ear, his voice a low rumble. “Sure about that?”
The overabundance of cocky arrogance in his tone has rage boiling up inside me. “Fuck you.”
“Been there. Done that.”
He finishes patting around my ass and thigh before tugging on the denim to expose my ankles. After discovering no weapons on me, he hauls me back around.
His face looms in front of mine a second before cold metal prods beneath my chin. “I won’t hesitate to pull this goddamn trigger. So, why don’t you start by spillin’ the truth—who you told about me and why the fuck they tried to kill me after you were gone?”
The urge to try and struggle enough in his hold to press my thumb and finger together pulses through me in a silent chant. Do it, do it, do it!
Sharp eyes flick briefly to where he holds my hands captive. “Did you think you could just fuck me, and I’d forget everythin’? That I’d throw in the goddamn towel and stop searchin’ for my sister’s killer?”
“I thought you didn’t hurt women.” I hurl the words back at him bitterly while disappointment I don’t want to acknowledge nags at me. “Guess that courtesy’s only extended to women who are pretty to look at and who you haven’t already fucked and tossed aside.”
His eyes burn with savage rage. “All bets are off when it pertains to my fuckin’ family.”
“Listen to me.” I grit my teeth against the fury polluting my veins. “I had nothing to do with your sister, and I sure as hell didn’t know anything happened to you until your fucked-up car came rolling up, Danny.”
His mouth mashes into a punishing line, and I instantly hate it, because that same mouth had been so soft and sensual and—
“Where were you.” He forces his words out from between clenched teeth, not phrasing them as a question. “Ten minutes ago.”
Mentally, I shake off the stupid fog of lust that he incites and focus on what he said. Cocking my head to the side, I answer slowly, as though I’m speaking to someone severely lacking intelligence. “I’ve been here. Working.”
His eyes never leave mine. They bore deep as though they’re delving inside my brain for the truth, even though I just delivered it to him verbally.
