Page 131 of Silver Elite

I turn to face him. He stands several feet away, his silhouette illuminated by the pale silver of the moon.

“I’m not making you do that. You didn’t have to come out. You know I’m not running.”

Cross walks closer. “I should have stayed in my quarters then?”

“If you wanted to.”

I’m indifferent on the outside. But despite my best efforts, I can’t deny the way my pulse races whenever he’s near.

I should step back, place some distance between us, but I can’t bring myself to move.

“Doesn’t matter to you at all then,” he drawls, “if I weren’t here right now.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Doesn’t matter to you if I’m with someone else. Ivy, maybe. If I walk away right now and find her. Bring her back to my quarters and strip her down. Put my hands and tongue all over her.”

I ignore the hot clench of jealousy in my chest. “You’re under the impression that I care what or who you do in your spare time.” Our eyes lock. “I don’t.”

“I think you get off on lying to me.”

The air thickens with tension, and the space between us seems to shrink with each passing second. I wrench my gaze off him, summoning a growled noise from his throat.

“You drive me crazy,” Cross says, his voice rough.

“And?”

His expression darkens at my cavalier tone.

“I’m not trying to drive you crazy,” I say, shrugging as if to prove how little I care. “You’re the one who brought me here, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember. You’ve been a pain in my ass from the moment you broke into my room at the inn.” He bites out an expletive.“I have a job to do, a fucking block to run, Elites to supervise, and I spend all my time wondering what crazy stunt Wren Darlington is going to pull next.”

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying when my lips are tingling with the urge to find out what his taste like.

“I don’t get involved with recruits.” His jaw is clenched with frustration.

And nowI’mfrustrated. Frustrated and annoyed and so angry about how desperately every part of me craves him.

He doesn’t get involved with recruits?

Well, I don’t get involved with guys whose fathers are responsible for killing thousands of people like me.

I don’t get involved with guys who think I’m defective and wouldn’t want me if they knew the truth.

“Did I ask you to get involved with me?” In an impossible feat, I manage to keep my voice steady. Cool.

Those blue eyes flare. “No, you just take your clothes off and get in the shower with me. Daring me to lose control.”

“I didn’t get in the shower with you. I got in the shower next to you. And as I recall, you took off your clothes first.” I lift a brow. “Seems to me like if anyone needs to gain control over their hormones, it’s you—”

I blink, and I’m being backed into the tunnel, the moonlight abruptly swallowed by shadows.

Cross presses me up against the wall, his face inches from mine. I feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. The electricity of his nearness.

“You really want to talk about control right now?” he says, keeping me in place with a hand to my waist. “Because it seems to me you’re the one with the control problem.”

I try to ease out of his grip. “You’re hurting me.” He’s not.

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