He sighs. “I don’t know.”
“You always go around touching women’s faces?”
He laughs gruffly. “It’s not a habit, but …”
“Butwhat?”
He lets out a shuddering breath. “Let’s say I wanted to do something reckless. Let’s say I wanted to do somethinginappropriate. It’smyjob to hold back. It’smyjob to have some goddamn perspective.”
Reckless, inappropriate … Are they words that should have my body buzzing with anticipation? Should I be dreaming about him leaning in, pressing those smirking lips against mine, crushing me with his hands, and owning me? He’s already helped me more withthatthan anybody ever has or ever could. Maybe he could change me in other ways, too.
“What exactly are we talking about?”
“The fact you don’t know is why I have to be strong,” he grunts. “Come on.”
He turns away again. He’s so wrong, though. I obviously know something was going to happen then, something steamy. Is that the right word? Something that involved the heat between us bursting to the surface.
Feeling like I have no choice—and not wanting to wait here again—I follow him down the hallway. This place is ultra-modern, all sleek and marble, nothing like home. Aiden turns down a corridor and leads me to a mini-apartment with a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a lockoutsidethe door.
In the entranceway, I point out, “This feels like a very fancy prison.”
“Call it what you want. You’ll be safe here while I figure out what to do.”
“That’s simple. Let me go home.”
I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t like the way he curls his fists when I say this. Or how he looks at me like he’d rather fight a hundred Bratva men than let me go.
“Do you know what Stockholm syndrome is?” he says.
“Of course I do,” I snap.
“You were born into a criminal family, but you don’t really know them. They show one side to you and another to the world.”
“There’s nothing you could ever say to turn me against my brothers.”
He takes a step forward. I think he’s going to touch me again for a moment. I almost have to press my legs together when I feel the tingling dancing over my lower half and into my heart. It’s so sudden. “I don’t want to turn you against anyone. I want you to make your own decision.”
I laugh. “Is that a joke?”
He shakes his head but looks confused and angry at being confused. “I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds insane.”
“Maybe that’s what I am.”
Ditto, I almost say, but I can’t let him think we can start making jokes whenever things get awkward. Finally, he steps away, making me wish he’d get close again. I want to know what his lips taste and feel like. I want to experience the closeness, the pressure of his body.
“I’m going to speak to Molly,” Aiden says. “See if she’s calmed down. It’s been a hell of a day, and it’s not even dinnertime.”
“You sure do love your food.”
He chuckles. Again, we’re back to the lighthearted stuff so quickly. Patting his belly, he says, “It’s hard not to when you’ve got a body like mine.”
“Oh, yeah. You need to lose a couple of pounds. Let me see.”
I mean it as a joke, but then he lifts his shirt. I almost gasp when I see his rock-hard abs, well-defined muscles, and a solid block of pure power. He lowers the shirt. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“Are you blushing?” I quip as I watch the tips of his ears turn red.