Page 72 of Brazen King

Shaking my head, I slip out of bed and stalk toward her, taking her hips and pulling her close so I can feel her warm, inviting body once more. “Nothing. I just think you might be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You wear that shirt better than I do.”

She rolls her eyes, but her lips press together as if she’s fighting back a smile, and she lifts onto her toes to give my lips a quick peck. Then she steps out of my arms to snatch a leather belt slung over my reading chair. And with deft hands, she loops it around her waist.

It might not be as good of a disguise as her assassin’s outfit, but she’s made an impressive makeshift outfit to get her safely out the door without drawing attention. And once she’s on the streets, no one will think twice about her wardrobe.

“Seriously, though, love,” I insist, stepping closer once again. It feels as though my body is in full revolt over the notion of letting her go. “I’m harder to kill than you’re giving me credit for.”

Natasha barks a laugh and steals a pair of my boxer briefs from my drawer, stepping into them and pulling them up beneath the shirt’s fabric.

“Think about it. You’re reputed to be the best, most lethal assassin in New York, right? And I’ve managed to survive your attempts to kill me more than once.”

“That doesn’t mean my father is incapable of killing you in other ways,” she insists, turning toward the door.

Grasping her wrist, I turn her to face me and hold her close so I can peer into her mesmerizing silver eyes. Then I unleash my most devilishly charming smile. “What if I promise you’re the only one who gets to kill me?” I tease.

Color infuses Natasha’s cheeks as she grows flustered. But she doesn’t reward me with one of her rare, coveted laughs. She can’t seem to find levity in the situation at all, and her brows buckle in a delicate frown. “This is not a joking matter, Killian,” she insists, the worry earnest in her eyes.

“I love it when you worry about me,” I tease, leaning in to steal a kiss.

She tastes like heaven, even first thing in the morning. And her soft, full lips match mine so perfectly, it makes my heart throb. I have half a mind to scoop her up and throw her back in bed. Tie her there and keep her to myself for the rest of the morning.

But I suspect she would be less than thrilled with me for that.

And I don’t actually want to get her in trouble or risk her safety.

Still, now that I’ve initiated the kiss, I find it nearly impossible to break.

And as I run the tip of my tongue along the seam of her lips, Natasha’s palms find my chest. For a moment, I think she might just shove me away. Then air rushes between her lips as she sighs into my embrace. And I savor the way she gives into me so completely. Yielding as if it’s too painful to resist me for long.

And even if she refuses to admit it, I know the truth.

Natasha has feelings for me.

And that makes my heart swell until it’s threatening to burst.

“Stay with me,” I murmur when I finally break the kiss, and I press my forehead to hers.

“I can’t,” she insists, her voice pained. And her frustration spikes as she pushes me determinedly away. “I have to go. Now. I’ve risked too much already.” And without a backward glance, she silently storms from my house.

As I watch her go, taking my shirt with her, I’m half tempted to chase her down.

Every fiber of my being screams for me to go after her, to pull her back into my arms and never let her go.

But then a new sense of comfort sweeps through me, a comfort I haven’t allowed myself to feel until now. Because, try as she might to deny it, I know that what Natasha and I have is real. Everything that happened last night—and this morning—confirms it.

It troubles me to think I might never gain her father’s approval.

But Natasha’s unintentional admission has left me more determined than ever to keep her.

This thing between us is no longer about power and territory—it stopped being about that a long time ago. In truth, I stoppedthinking about claiming Boris’s territory the night we made our deal.

Since I met the real Natasha, she’s become my sole focus—the only treasure I truly want.

And I would give up everything else if I could call her mine.

32

NATASHA

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