Page 69 of Silver Elite

His father is a monster, and by extension, so is he.

I watch silently as he reaches for the sheaths strapped to his body and begins to remove his weapons. Three handguns. Just as many knives. Each blade gleams in the dim light of the room. One by one, he sets them aside on the table with practiced precision.

I despise the way my pulse races at the sight of his chest. I resent the way my gaze travels over his broad shoulders and defined muscles. He grabs another shirt and glances at me as he pulls it over his head. It’s his navy-blue uniform shirt, and I wonder where he came from, armed to the teeth, sweaty, and dressed all in black, this early in the morning. Maybe he never went to bed.

“Twice in one week,” he says. “This is a record.”

His eyes sweep me up and down, then focus on the corner of my mouth.

I run my tongue over it and feel the caked blood there. “I told you I was going to be a problem.”

“So this is going to become a habit?”

“Honestly, it seems likely.”

He nearly smiles. I know it because that dimple throbs just slightly before smoothing out. He walks to his desk and picks up his tablet. A second later, he starts to read out loud.

“ ‘Lack of coordination. Insolent attitude. No upper body strength or combat instincts. Borderline useless.’ ”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Captain. I’m sure you possesssomeredeeming qualities.”

“That’s Ford’s opinion of your fighting skills.”

I’m all innocence. “I faced some formidable opponents yesterday. Didn’t stand a chance.”

Cross studies me again, pensive. “And yet Kess Farren is one of our most promising recruits, and you just sent her to Medical.”

“She didn’t seem very promising when her face was under my fist.”

His stride is pure arrogance as he walks toward me. I hold myground despite my accelerating heartbeat, but then he touches my lips, and my heart stops in my chest.

“This mouth,” he warns, his thumb scraping the seam of my lips until it reaches the cut in the corner, “is going to get you in trouble, Dove.”

It’s hard to draw a breath. When I finally do, my chest rises, and his gaze lowers to it.

Redden. Cross Redden.

Very slowly, I inch forward. He blinks in surprise. Our bodies are almost flush as I advance, walking him backward toward his desk. Until his ass hits the solid wood and he has nowhere else to go. I lick the corner of my mouth, and a coppery flavor coats my tongue.

“Cross,” I say.

He blinks again, as if surprised to hear his name leaving my lips.

“I don’t know how the General raised you, but where I come from, you don’t touch a woman without her consent.”

I rub the cut, scraping my nails over it so it spills open. Coating the pads of my fingers with blood. Then I reach out and drag those fingertips over the Silver Block emblem on his shirt. I smile as the silver coloring is stained red.

His nostrils flare.

“In other words,” I finish, my voice cold, “don’t touch me again without my permission.”

Cross’s gaze never leaves my face. “Or what?”

I frown at him.

“What are you going to do, Darlington? Hit me? Go ahead. Do it.”

My hands curl into fists. I press them to my sides and take a backward step. “Don’t tempt me.”

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