Page 7 of A Fine Line

I laugh to myself, this new feeling of freedom to poke the bear already growing on me. I quickly finish up in the bathroom, washing my hands before I head back into the living area, where Tony is standing in the middle of the room waiting for me. “What is this place?”

“Dare’s little hideaway out in the middle of fucking nowhere, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh. Is this the place Antoinette escaped from?”

“Nettie didn’t escape,” he scoffs, his face twisting in annoyance. “Dare didn’t secure her properly. If he hadn’t been such a besotted fool, she never would’ve escaped. And since I’m definitely not besotted with you, there’s zero chance you’ll escape.”

“Well, that sounds like a challenge.”

I only manage to take one step back before he’s on me. Maybe it’s too soon for jokes.

His breath is hot against my face as he says, “The only reason you’re still breathing is because of Darius. You should be dead for what you did.”

I stare straight into his eyes as I nod in agreement. “You’re right. But in the end, at least I tried to make it right.”

“You tried a little too late. And you ended up with blood on your hands.”

I narrow my eyes, my jaw clenching as I place both of my palms against his chest and shove him backwards. “Do you think I don’t fucking know that? Do you think that I don’t look back and wonder if there was something I could’ve done to prevent Lilith’s death?”

He steps back into me but doesn’t push me back against the wall. His eyes search mine as he says, “I don’t see why you would care.”

“How could I not care?” I shout as his ridiculous assumptions make my blood hot in my veins. “Stop making snap judgments about something you know nothing about. I may not have known Lilith that well, but she’s the closest friendly connection I’ve had in years, and god knows I needed that connection. I needed a friend like her in my corner. A friend that’s…”

Tony’s face twists as he considers my words, and then he responds, “Gleefully murderous?”

I nod, my laugh a touch watery as I say, “Yes. I could definitely use a gleefully murderous friend right now.” I pause for a moment, then meet his gaze. “Look, Tony, I’m really sorry about Paris. I should’ve told you the truth when you asked—“

He raises his hand, the furious look on his face cutting off my words as he spits out, “I don’t wanna fucking hear it. I don’t give a fuck about any of it, least of all some stupid interlude that meant less than nothing.”

Yeah, that stings, but I don’t bother responding. He’s obviously more bitter than I originally thought, so talking about the past is out.

He presses his lips together, his eyes assessing me, but I don’t miss the spark of heat in their depths, and, annoyingly, my pussy clenches in response.

I swallow back the spontaneous cackle that attempts to erupt from my mouth, and instead, I end up choking on what is likely an obviously inappropriate laugh. He inclines his head at me in interest and asks, “What could possibly be funny right now?”

I laugh again, the blatantly inappropriate undertone entirely obvious this time, and the corner of his lip curls up knowingly. He takes a step closer to me, then another, and another until he’s standing only a few inches in front of me. He leans down a bit, so his face is directly in front of mine, searching my eyes as he asks, “Are you seriously fucking checking me out right now?”

The smile I give him is more of a grimace, and I shrug rather awkwardly. But my reply is clear. “You’re fucking hot, and I’m prone to clearly inappropriate thought processes at the completely wrong time.”

He shakes his head at me, his eyes looking up to the sky as he mutters, “What the actual fuck?”

I laugh awkwardly again as my hands come up, hovering over his well-defined pectoral muscles under his Henley. His gaze drops to my hands and then back up to my eyes, and he raises an eyebrow at me questioningly.

I drop my hands, quickly moving them behind my back, where I clasp them together. I give him that same uncomfortable grimace that I can’t seem to get rid of.

He steps closer to me, and this time, I step back. He raises both eyebrows at me, and the smile he gives me is feral as he continues to move forward. I continue to retreat.

I can’t even pretend his little chase game doesn’t have me panting, and I find it exhilarating and confusing at the same time.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t this an odd turn of events?”

I press my lips together, knowing that any sounds likely to slip out are going to be equal parts anticipatory arousal and awkward embarrassment. He continues, “What do you have to say for yourself, Carolina?”

My first inclination is to not respond, but it also feels as if I don’t have any choice, and I now seem to be predisposed to word vomiting whenever stressed, something I never would’ve done in my previous existence. So, I do. “I don’t see any shame in me wanting to climb you like a tree. Sure, you kidnapped me and stuffed me in a box under a bed, probably with the idea that you’re going to do terrible things to me, and I’m sure now, you’re confused because you don’t understand that there isn’t anything terrible you can do to me that hasn’t already been done or would even bother me. So, here we are. You know that I know that you know that you’re hot. And who doesn’t enjoy some bad-boy ex-military fuckery less than an hour after the danger has passed.”

He stares at me, then leans closer until his nose is just shy of touching mine. One of his hands comes up, and his fingers stroke down my cheek softly as he whispers, “I fucking hate you for what you’ve done and for your treachery that led to the death of one of mine.”

Now, my smile brightens, and I nod, refusing to offer an apology that will change nothing. “Noted. But who doesn’t love a good hate fuck?” I turn my head, my teeth snapping at his finger sharply, a little thrill running down my spine at my completely spontaneous outburst. I get a tiny nip in, but he pulls back before I can really sink my teeth in, and the growl that rumbles in his chest makes my pussy throb, and that thrill runs over me again.

---