Page 36 of Forbidden Pawn

I spent the entire day hiding in my office, even though there wasn’t much work to do. But work wasn’t what kept me in here. I’m hiding from Grace, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise.

I saw the way her face dropped when I pulled away this morning, saw the disappointment flash across her features when I walked out. It stings more than I’d like to admit. Every time I think about the way she ran out of the living room, it twists something in my chest.

It was just too much. I had just decided that last night was a mistake, and then I went and fucked her again. How stupid am I? I can’t trust myself to be near her right now. She has this dangerous effect on me—she makes me reckless. And I can’t afford to be reckless.

Especially not now, with everything else that’s going on. The waterfront property deal is hanging by a thread, and until I hear from my associates, everything’s on hold. I need that deal to go through. It’s a key part of my operation, and if it falls apart, I’ll be left with a mess I can’t afford. Especially when the Reids don’t come through with their payment as well. I haven’t been under this much pressure in years.

I had a call with Dominic earlier, and we exchanged a few emails, trying to speed up the process. My team’s planning a meeting on site with Mr. Stern to convince him to work with us, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work. I’ve been pushing for updates all day, but now, all I can do is wait. And I hate waiting.

I sit at my desk, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, staring at an email draft I haven’t been able to finish. My mindkeeps drifting away from work and I find myself looking out the window most of the time. My office is at the front of the house, so I can’t see the garden or the pool. Just the gravel driveway and the trees lining the property, but no Grace kneeling next to a bed of flowers.

I glance at the security feed on my monitor for the umpteenth time. Grace hasn’t been out in the garden today, and she hasn’t gone swimming either. It looks like she’s hiding from me as well.

Or she’s keeping to herself because of the way I treated her after our little intermezzo this morning. Maybe she’s hurt. That thought bothers me more than it should.

Maybe it’s better this way, keeping our distance, giving me time to think straight. But the longer I sit here, the more restless I feel.

I click through a few more emails, but the words blur together. The more I try to focus, the more my thoughts circle back to her. The way she looked at me this morning, the way her body felt against mine, how she parted her legs for me without hesitation. The way it felt to be inside of her, and the way I kissed her after… I have never done anything like this. I’ve had my fair share of women, but I kissed none of them the way I needed to kiss Grace, sensual and tender, wanting nothing more.

And it felt good. It felt like coming home after being away for a very long time, maybe my whole life.

This is bullshit, I remind myself. She was a good fuck, that’s all.

A very good fuck.

The best of my life.

The memory grips me, tightening its hold no matter how hard I try to push it away. I close my laptop with a frustrated sigh, leaning back in my chair. I shouldn’t have been this cold with her. The thought keeps gnawing at me, replaying over and overin my head. But I couldn’t help myself. I feel myself drawn to her in ways I didn’t expect, and that’s the problem.

More than a week has passed since her brothers handed her over, and I’m surprised I haven’t heard a word from them. I expected to hear from them within a couple of days, especially considering how protective they’re supposed to be of her. How can they not worry?

I lean back in my chair; the thought unsettling me. What if I was a brutal rapist? Or some violent abuser who gets off on hurting women? They don’t seem to care.

But I do.

That realization hits me unpleasantly hard. I can’t explain it, and I’m not sure I want to, but I know one thing for certain: the idea of her being hurt makes my blood boil.

I glance out the window again, and my heart jumps when I see her outside. I didn’t expect to see her out through my window, because she’s never left the house through the front door ever since I brought here. Because she’s not supposed to.

But there she is, walking down the driveway, heading toward the road with wide steps, her pace a little too fast for comfort.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath as I leap out of my chair, throwing the door open.

Chapter 29

June

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I turn around to face him. Ryker is running after me, a mix of anger and frustration lacing his expression.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snaps at me, his voice full of rage.

I cross my arms in defiance, trying to ignore the way my heart flutters when he comes to a halt in front of me. He looks ridiculously good—wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his tattoos peeking out along his forearms, reminding me of this morning. The way his hands gripped my hips, his body pressed against mine, the way he kissed me…

Stop it. I force the memory away, but it keeps tugging at the edge of my mind when I look back up at him. It’s obvious that it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me. I can’t let myself get caught up in it again. Not when he’s looking at me like this—as if I’ve done something wrong just by existing.

“Well?” he demands, his gaze piercing, as he comes even closer. He’s standing so close that his alluring scent of fir and moss wraps around me, pulling me in, when all I want is to distance myself from him. But I can’t.

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