Page 55 of A Fine Line

So, when Carolina contacted Lilith and Nettie with a list of possible locations where they might be able to snag Dare, I already knew what was going to happen.

It was obviously a ruse for Dare to get Nettie alone, which meant Carolina would be alone, leaving me with a perfect opportunity to sneak in and give her a start.

I’ve been sitting out here for about twenty minutes, watching her movements through the poorly covered windows. No sooner do I see Nettie’s text stating she’s got eyes on our man than I’m exiting my vehicle and making my move.

Getting access to their apartment is a lot easier than I’m comfortable with, something I’ll have to address if they continue to stay here.

I let myself in, closing the door silently behind me, and make my way slowly toward the living area where I last saw her. I remain in the shadows, leaning my shoulder against the door jam, watching her focus on some foreign show on the television. The only time I’ve seen her before was our brief time on the red carpet.

I won’t deny that she’s a striking woman and that my dick didn’t immediately take a serious interest in her. More annoying than that is the sense of unease that wraps around me, an unusual feeling I can only attribute to my lack of trust in her and her position in Dare’s life. There’s no way she’s some random actress they happened upon while looking for some limelight to draw out our enemy.

It’s too convenient—too coincidental—and I won’t leave here without some answers.

A few minutes go by before some subtle movement I make grabs her attention, but her response to my sudden appearance isn’t the startled scream I would expect from most people. Instead, she cocks her head at me, and her mouth curls up as she says, “Tony Andersen. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I narrow my eyes, intrigued by how cool and collected she is while also noting the giant fucking red flag it is. I remain in the doorway, silently studying her until finally, she laughs and turns back to the television as she says, “Come in or leave. Don’t be a fucking weirdo.”

Now, I laugh and walk further into the room until I’m standing over her. She looks up at me, and there’s no fear in her eyes, no concern, no anger—just humor glinting in her soft brown eyes.

My cock twitches in my jeans, and I have a sudden vision of me grabbing her by the hair and forcing her head back so I can drive my cock down her throat.

I blink, and she’s still looking up at me, her lips now curved up in a knowing smirk. I glare at her. “You got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

She laughs, her brows rising as she responds, “You’re the one who showed up here uninvited. You got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

I search her eyes, torn between going easy and going hard, and for the first time in my adult life, I’m left speechless, so entirely caught up on her gaze that someone could easily sneak up on me and slit my damn throat.

Then she says, huskily, “Well, are you going to do something or just stand there all goddamn night staring at me like a crazy man?”

A low growl vibrates up from deep within my chest, and I bare my teeth at her in a humorless smile, but still, she doesn’t flinch. I reach my hands out, one wrapping around the hair at the back of her head and the other wrapping around her throat, and still, she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t so much as blink, barely even breathing as she remains immobile, waiting to see what I’m going to do.

And I fucking hate it.

I hate her nonresponse. I hate how she seems so calm, cool, and unaffected. I hate how she stares up at me with those soft brown eyes emitting such warmth that I want to wrap her around me and lose myself in her. I hate how she’s not afraid. I hate knowing the tiny tremor in her body is from an awakening desire, and the pulse in her neck thrashing against my hand is an indication of her excitement.

I fucking hate her.

I tighten my hand on her throat, watching her face as I slowly cut off her air, and still, she doesn’t flinch. I squeeze my hand in her hair, yanking her head back and leaning forward until our breath mingles with each exhalation, and still, she doesn’t flinch. I run my nose along hers, painting her cheek and jaw with my breath, moving back around until my lips hover over hers, and still, she does not flinch.

I start to pull back, my grip on her neck and hair easing a bit when suddenly, her tongue peeks out, brushing against my lips tentatively. I freeze, my cock now like steel in my jeans, and the humor in her eyes takes on a muted heat as she pushes forward against my grip, her tongue stroking over my lips with intent.

I pull her close, opening my lips and sucking her tongue into my mouth. Her gasp of pleasure vibrates through me, sending a jolt of lust right to my dick, and all I can think about is mounting her like an animal. Her hands on my shoulders pull me toward her rather than push me away, and for a brief moment, I consider giving in, abandoning my reasons for coming here, and fucking the ever-loving shit out of her right on the sofa.

I rip myself away from her and shake my head, attempting to clear the fog of lust from my brain. I ease my grip on her throat enough so she can take in a panting breath. The low sob that falls from her lips sets off an ache in my balls that has me reconsidering my game plan.

“Who the fuck sent you?” I manage to spit out, giving her a slight shake as she frowns up at me.

Her tongue licks over her lips, and her brow furrows in confused concentration as she replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me who you are, and maybe I can help you.”

She laughs at this, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she says, “I’m Carolina Tennent. And there’s no help for me.”

I stare into her eyes, searching for the lie, but I see none. Not that her statement tells me much, considering the vagueness of my line of questioning.

I open my mouth to ask a more direct question, but the look on her face stops me. She’s staring up at me, a mixture of sadness and awe on her face. A strange urge to comfort her overwhelms me, and I have to squash it down.

Instead, I adjust my hands on her neck and in her hair, leaning down and running my nose from her collarbone up her neck to her ear, where I whisper, “What is it?”

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