Page 114 of Ruthless Intent

Somehow I don’t think he’s going to torture me with kisses.

And I’m not about to forget about the threats he’s made just because I can still taste him on my lips.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

ZAIN

I don’t know if it’s the way she looks at me, the fiery spark in her eyes, the disdain in her voice, or the way she turns her back on me like I am nothing to fear. But whatever it is, it triggers something inside me that can’t be denied.

I don’t intend to kiss her, but after pulling her back around to face me, she is so close and looks so furious that I can’t help myself.

It only lasts for a second … a minute … an hour … a day … a lifetime … before my brain catches up with what my body is doing.

What the fuck am I doing? Cupping her cheek like she is important, stroking her jaw, sampling her lips? Kissing her like she’s a temptation that I can’t resist.

Before she catches wind of the fact I’m shocked by my own behaviour, I turn my back on her and have to stop myself from fucking running away. I force myself to keep my pace steady, my back straight and walk back to where we left her mom.

I have to stop before I walk into the room, so I can adjust the rogue erection pressing against the front of my pants.

It’s because I haven’t been near a woman in years, that’s all. I need to get laid. Once I do that, I won’t think about how soft her lips are, how good she smells, or how she might taste.

Once I’m certain I have my body under control, I walk into the room. Esme Trumont is where we left her, sitting on the couch sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Are you going to hurt my daughter, Zain?”

She doesn’t waste any time, and I feel an unwilling respect for her forwardness.

“Your daughter couldn’t be hurt by a fucking out of control boulder. That woman is the most stubborn thing I’ve ever met in my life.”

I’m not lying. Even with all my threats, she refuses to comply with my demands without a fight.

Esme laughs. “She’s always been a force of nature. I think she forgot that for a while. If you’re bringing that side out of her, then maybe you two exploring whatever is going on isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

I round the couch and sit on the opposite end. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think is going to happen to a young girl’s nature when she walks in on the dead body of her brother and his girlfriend?” Her voice turns sad. “That, the days following it, and then your trial … she stopped being a child, and became a very serious young woman far too soon.”

“Tell me about that.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I heard that you always said you thought I was innocent. Why did you let her testify if you didn’t believe her?”

She leans forward and sets her cup down on the coffee table, then turns slightly so she can look directly at me.

“I never said I didn’t believe her, Zain. She completely believed what she was saying. She didn’t, for a second, think she was lying. But there was something … call it a mother’s intuition if you wish … there was something off with how she described what she saw. The words she used when she was questioned on the stand. It was almost as though she was reciting a story she’d been told. She never deviated from the same words.”

“You think she was coached?” That matches what McFadden suggested when I told him about her interview.

“Many witnesses who are taking the stand are coached in advance. When Bryan got the call that she was at the police station, he said that they had her in an interview room.”

“They did. I have the recording of her interview.”

“Now how did you manage to get hold of that?” She waves a hand before I can answer. “I don’t want to know.”

“I can send you a copy if you want to see it.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I want to relive that evening.”

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