Page 23 of Fatal Bonds

“Everything alright?” she asks.

“Yes, just planning,” I state, redirecting my thoughts so I won’t keep picturing her naked and wet in my shower, pressed against the wall as I claim her. “You got your interview.”

“Oh.”

The heavy silence behind me tells me she’s stopped moving, a wordless indication that she’s still conflicted over the idea of helping me. It’s the only insight I’ll get into how she’s feeling because, since Lindsey came running back to me for protection, she has been a closed book. I glance back at her as I shrug out of my dress shirt and catch her gaze sliding across my shoulders, following the line of my spine down my back. Color infuses her cheeks before her eyes snap back up to meet mine, then quickly shift away.

Nothing has happened between us since that night at the Dungeon, though the undercurrent of tension has only grown more electric since then. But Lindsey has put up her walls, and as much as I want her, I know it’s better if I don’t let myself go down that road. I’ve proven far too susceptible to her charms, and making her mine would only get her killed. Better to keep an eye on her until the murder is done. Then, hopefully, I can let her go back to her normal life—one that will be safer once I’m no longer a part of it. I just hope that, in the end, it will be possible to release Lindsey. There’s no doubt in my mind she would hate me if I kept her a prisoner here indefinitely—even if I did it to keep her safe.

“That’s supposed to be a good thing,” I remind her when she still doesn’t say anything. “The sooner you get the information I need, the sooner you can go home.”

“Right,” she says, turning on her heel and vanishing back into the bathroom.

I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does, and I follow her to the open doorway, crossing my arms as I lean my shoulder against the wall. She’s dragging a brush through her hair with unnecessary force, her eyes trained on the mirror as she watches the task with more intense focus than it requires.

“You agreed to help,” I point out.

Lindsey slams the brush down on the counter and braces against the edge as she meets my eyes in the mirror. “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about becoming an accessory to murder, does it?” She challenges.

Heat flares between us, raising the temperature of the already-steamy room as I hold her gaze. It smells like her in here, floral and fruity and entirely too enticing. I need space.

Sighing, I release my arms and stand. “You’re right.”

As I turn to head back into the bedroom, I think I catch a flicker of regret in Lindsey’s eyes, but I don’t stop to explore the emotion. Giving her privacy, I finished changing into a pair of boxers and a plain black tee. I would usually sleep in just boxers—if that—but I’m trying not to make this any harder than it has to be.

Lindsey finishes her nightly routine in the bathroom shortly after, and I follow suit, washing my face and brushing my teeth before I head back into the bedroom. She’s already curled up beneath the covers, her back to my side of the bed, with only the lamp on my side table to light my way. I can tell she’s still awake by the rigid line of her shoulders, but I let her pretend to be asleep as I slip onto my side of the bed without a word. The space is clearly designated by the decorative pillow she’s turned lengthwise and stuffed beneath the covers to mark the border between our territories.

Switching off my light, I lean back, tucking an arm behind my head as I stare up at the ceiling. But as soon as we’re thrown into darkness, that charged energy between us starts to build into an electrical storm. Tingling sensation ripples across my skin, heightening my awareness until I feel every shift of the bed, every brush of the sheets when Lindsey makes the slightest move. I want nothing more than to pull her closer, to taste the sweet flavor of her lips and feel the warmth of her body beneath me as I make her moan with pleasure.

Fuck.I should not have thought about it, because now my cock is rock hard again, and I’m not about to get up and walk to one of the guest bathrooms to resolve the issue. It’s what I’ve been forced to do all week since we’re sharing a room. Clenching my teeth, I adjust myself, pressing the heel of my palm against the crown of my cock until the throbbing eases.

Bringing Lindsey here was a bad decision, but she didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of options. It’s going to be another long night.

“Breathe,”I command Lindsey as Liam fiddles with her shirt collar, trying to mask the wire he’s hiding there. She looks far too attractive in a gray pencil skirt and white collared shirt with black pumps that show off her impressive calves. I bought her the outfit thinking it would make her look professional for an interview, but it would seem she makes everything look flirtatious without even trying.

Lindsey nods, pursing her lips to release a slow, quavering breath. She’s nervous, and it’s written in every tense line of her body, but the breath makes her shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. She glances down at Liam’s hands, her discomfort apparent as she adjusts her shoulders and neck.

“Give it to me,” I order, stepping forward and extending my palm for the device.

It’s small and unobtrusive in my palm, the alligator clip to hold it in place narrow enough he must have been struggling to latch it, but as soon as he steps back, Lindsey’s anxiety seems to settle.

“I’ll be listening the whole time,” I assure her, releasing a button on her shirt and folding back the collar so I can fix the clip to her bra strap.

Her pulse along her throat quickens, and I glance up to meet her eyes as her cheeks color.

“In case you need me, I won’t be far.”

She nods again, followed by another calming breath, and the scent of cool mint fills the space between us. Her lips are close enough to kiss, and my eyes flick down to them instinctively. Before she can notice, I turn my attention back to the job at hand, threading the wire through her buttonhole before closing the shirt so the button hides the top of it.

“I think I can handle an interview when I don’t even care if I get the job,” she says cheekily. “So you can admit it. This is to make sure I don’t say anything to blow your cover.” Her smile is tight, though whether that’s from stress or out of bitterness, I’m not sure.

She’s not wrong, but I wasn’t lying either. I don’t trust Emiliano, and this will ensure I know exactly what’s going on if Lindsey needs me.

“Just be careful.” Plucking the bluetooth earphone from my palm, I tuck her golden locks away from her face with my fingers and insert the small device into the shell of her ear.

Lindsey’s breath catches, her lips parting as my fingertips brush along her jaw, and my stomach jolts. I’m playing with fire, standing this close to her, but I don’t like watching other men touch her—even if Liam was trying to be respectful about it.

“You know what you’re looking for?”

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