Page 77 of Last Shot

Naivety, some people might call it.

She locked her body tighter to him in response, in case he changed his mind, fingers brushing against the burning skin of his chest, pulling his T-shirt over his head. Her hands roved the flat plane of his stomach, over the ridges of his abdominals. This was the part of him that had taunted her the most. Fingers curled in the trail of hair down to his belt – she pressed her thumbs into the V-shaped ridge she’d pretended not to notice when they first met. A day ago. A lifetime ago.

She didn’t know how she made it inside. All she knew was that she didn’t let him go.

‘Conrad.’ His lips pressed the word into her throat as he caged her body on the bed. ‘You’ve got no idea how much I’ve tried to get this image out of my mind.’

Something cracked – a tiny chip in the illusion.Because I’m so repulsive to you?

‘And is it worse than your nightmares?’

‘So much worse.’ His thumb grazed her collarbone.

‘What happened’—she arched her hips into his—‘in this nightmare?’

A flare in his eyes – fire in a pan. He growled and rolled off her, his torso now flush against her spine. That thumb that stroked her collarbone was now running over the silky fabric of Nella’s shirt. Max bit her lip against the noise she was going to make if that hand didn’t move to her ...

‘Do you want me to show you?’ It was barely audible through the blaring heat of her blood as he finally brushed her nipple. Her boob was one thing those giant hands couldn’t make seem smaller. But she fit with him – despite their opposing angles and curves and opinions – somehow, they fit.

‘Yes.’ She breathed it out like a confession. A prison sentence.

‘I’ve been thinking aboutthis.’ His fingers grazed the lace of her bra, excruciatingly gentle, deliberately not touching her where she needed. ‘Since this morning.’

The (slightly humiliating) memory of her pulling up her T-shirt and trying to force him to touch her to prove her innocence flashed into her mind. ‘You mean when you were accusing me of having an Italian gang insignia tattoo?’

He shook his head and her heart boxed against her rib cage. ‘Earlier.’ He unhooked the clasp in an unsettlingly quick motion. ‘You need new clothes, Conrad. I could see this bra through your shitty singlet even before you first tried to kill me.’

‘I was starting to get the impression you weren’t a fan of any of my clothes – well, Nella’s clothes ... Should I just, ah, put them back on ...’ She feigned reaching for her bra to clasp it back up and he caught her wrist, mock outrage playing across his face.

‘My job is to fix things,’ he said, his hand gripping her hip. She rolled back into the pressure of him as his breath sent sparks down the back of her neck. ‘And in my professional opinion, all of those clothes need to be burned. You don’t need clothes, Conrad.’

‘If that’s your professional opinion.’ She dipped her head back into the pillow as he pressed gentle, stubble kisses down her back, peeling her bra strap down her shoulder.

‘I lied.’ His eyes were glassy like a stain had been polished off. She had the impression she was seeing inside a windowless room that had been boarded up for years.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Her heart dropped.

‘About the mugshot.’ His voice was so quiet, she could convince herself she imagined it. Sheshouldconvince herself she imagined it.

You’re much prettier in your mugshot.

She didn’t want him to see her smile, to see what his approval did to her when it should have done nothing at all.

‘Never would have taken you for a bed guy.’

She didn’t know what made her say it. Maybe it was the gentleness of the kisses. Maybe it was the way her body so easily gave into him.

His brow furrowed but his mouth started to claim territory on a part of her shoulder that hadn’t yet surrendered to him. ‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘I imagined you’d fuck girls up against the wall, or the kitchen bench.’ The confession was tangled with desperation– I want you to do that to me. But when she watched his eyes close over, she realised she’d said something wrong. The worst part was, her body was now her enemy, an out of-control vigilante that had lost her trust. Her mind felt much the same – she didn’t know if she’d steered them deliberately off this cliff.

He pushed himself off the bed. Her body screamed for him, throbbing in the places he’d just been.Come back, goddamn it.

But in her magical, impossible, illusionary bubble, she realised she’d blocked out any sounds from the world that were not Grey’s voice. The phone was ringing. Grey’s eyes were closing over. The caller ID saidBarbarani.

She’d been wrong. Grey’s scent was not that moment with the present. It was ripping open the gift only to discover the card has someone else’s name on it. The leather of the new collar you bought for the puppy you had to rehome. Regret and guilt and desperation like she’d never believed she’d feel again after everything she’d endured.

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