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I heard his vague threat and promptly dismissed it. If there was one thing our forced time together taught me, it was how to ignore his snappy non-answers. He was the type of guy used to getting his way the first time around. Unfortunately for him, I was the type who didn’t let shit go.
“You could have mailed the phone,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest again. “What are you really doing here?”
He made a face like it was the dumbest question ever. “Why would I mail it when I have your address? That is a waste of time and postage.”
“Because the last time I saw you, you basically said I’d never see you again. And now here you are, bringing me expensive electronics and giving my friends brain damage.”
“Well,nowit’s the last time.” He turned to go, but I grabbed his elbow. When he jerked back around, his other hand was clenched in a fist. I flinched, but it didn’t come flying at my head. Surprisingly. Guess that was progress.
“I think you’re lying,” I said, sounding way more confident than I felt. “I think you’ll find another excuse to come see me.”
“Trust me — I won’t.”
“What if I come see you?”
He took a step forward, his teeth on edge. “What did I say? Don’t ever go back there. Don’t ask about me. Forget I exist.”
“I can’t,” I admitted quietly. As much as I may have wanted to, there was no way I could forget about him. Not just the kidnapping, or the bank robbery, but everything else that had happened — the burning looks he gave me, the way his hands touched me, so powerful but so uncertain. Memories of him were seared into my skin as permanently as the tattoos were in his. I didn’t know what any of it meant, but I knew I’d regret just walking away without trying to figure it out.
“You have to,” he replied, peeling my fingers off his elbow.
“I still want to help you.”
Recoiling, he made a face, either because he was insulted or because he smelled the desperation on me. “I don’t need your help.” Without waiting for a reply, he pivoted on the ball of his foot and strode away.
I didn’t let him get far. “Security isn’t going to let you get anywhere near that vault,” I called out, smirking when he paused, head tilted, but still refusing to look at me. Seemed I had the upper hand again. “Oh, yeah. The bank has armed security now. There’s also a temporary moratorium on opening new safety deposit boxes. Dad might not know what you’re after, but he knows it’s in one of those boxes. So now, only vetted box holders have access.”
Sasha turned slowly, processing the new information and looking less than happy about it. A muscle twitched along his freshly-shaven jaw every now and again. I don’t know which version I preferred — the clean shaven or the slightly scruffy. Both looked good on him.
“You can get to it?” he asked, strolling forward until he was right in front of me. The familiar warmth of his gaze raked over me the closer he got, lingering where my swim trunks hung low on my hips, exposing the V muscles he’d spent so much time torturing the other day.
“I’ve had my own box since I was thirteen,” I replied, trying to ignore the fact the heat from his gaze made my dick sit up and take notice.
He still seemed irritated, so I was surprised when he lifted his hand to my throat, brushing the pad of his thumb over the remnants of his hickey. The barest hint of a smile pulled up one side of his mouth, pleased by only God knew what.
My fingers skimmed along the the top of his jeans. Even though his t-shirt was in the way, heat radiated into my hand. Despite his icy exterior, I’d come to associate Sasha with fire — a fiery touch, a fiery temper, and fiery passion when he let his guard down.
With his thumb pressing the center of the mark, the rest of his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, jerking me forward. Rule #1 aside, I didn’t mind when he manhandled me likethis. Sasha took what he wanted, when he wanted it. And by the look in his eye, he wanted me, regardless of what his inner voice was telling him.
His lips were a breath away from mine when Frankie’s voice screeched through the air.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
She was down the stairs in a flash, dripping water, and looking like a swamp creature with her long brown hair plastered to her body. Freddy hung back on the porch, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his throat.
Sasha straightened, pulling his mouth away from mine in the process. He didn’t, however, take his hand away from my neck, even when Frankie marched up to him and attempted to get in his face.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Trying to kill my brother and now my best friend? Get your hands off of him!” She swatted Sasha’s hand away from me at the same time she slipped her arm around my waist and pulled me closer to her. As if her impressive five feet and four inches was at all intimidating to someone who was a foot taller than her.
Instead of crushing her like a bug, Sasha watched her with an amused expression.
“Frankie, it’s ok,” I said quickly. She actually tried to hit him again, but I yanked her hand back to safety before Sasha decided to rip it off.
“What is the scary Russian doing at your house?” Frankie hissed at me, shooting a glance at Sasha out of the corner of her eye.
“He was dropping off my phone.”
“So why did he bodyslam Freddy into a car?”
