Page 45 of Eyes in the Shadows

When I’d stop at the top of the staircase, Mac keeps pushing me along, up another flight that curls around the corner. At the top of the second set of stairs, he gestures to the left. All the lights come on like they’re on motion detecting sensors as we continue down a hallway so long, we must be headed for The East Wing or something equally as ridiculous. The house is dead silent, and it feels totally empty, especially all the way up here.

Eventually, he stops and opens a bedroom door. Unlike everywhere else, he has to flip the light on in here.

“This is…” I trail off, stepping into the room and taking in the massive bed that dominates one side of the room, the plush white carpet, the reading nook, the double doors that lead out to a fucking balcony, the en suite bathroom just past the massive walk-in closet, the matching glass bedside tables with… wait, personal stuff? A charging cable, a stack of books, a bottle of ibuprofen, a box of tissues… “Is this your room?”

“It is.”

“Okay, so where am I sleeping?”

“Here,” he says, like that was obvious.

“Oh, come on,” I complain. My vagina likes this idea a bit too much, spasming with need at the thought of this kind of forced proximity. “There must be a dozen bedrooms in this place—”

“Ten.”

“Surely, one of them—”

“You live in my house, you’re gonna sleep in my bed.”

My breath breaks in my throat as a shiver crawls under my skin, making my nipples tingle and ache. That tone, that don’t-argue-with-me statement, that hungry look in his eyes—it all almost makes me think he really does want me in his bed. Legitimately.

I want to scream in frustration. Why is he making this so hard on me? I cross my arms. “I thought you were some kind of southern gentleman. Chivalrous, even.”

“I am,” he protests, crossing the room to place my bag on the cozy chair in the corner. “I saved your life.”

“You endangered it!” I shout, losing my cool for a second. “I’ve lived in Ulysses my whole life and a thug has never followed me into the sauna before.”

“That you know of,” he scoffs.

I scowl at him and suddenly everything comes pouring out. “I’m an overweight line cook with no boyfriend and, like, two friends—one of whom is my sister. All I have to my name is a bunch of expensive kitchen gadgets and a pile of debt from the college I never even finished. My life is so small and I’m so unremarkable that it’s almost impressive. Don’t pretend like anyone would have noticed me if it weren’t for this mess you dragged me into, because no one ever has before.”

He bristles, shooting me a sideways glance. “I did.”

“I caught you shooting someone out my window! That’s not the same—”

“No,” he cuts in, and his tone is so firm that I stop. “Before that.”

I snort. “Yeah, right.”

“You came waltzing up to that door in the tiniest damn shorts I’ve ever seen, looking up at me with those big blue eyes, bitin’ that lip… I almost had you against the wall, then and there.”

My breath whooshes out, and I feel warmth spreading a few places at once—on my cheeks, my chest, and, more urgently, between my legs. Like he knows it, he takes a step towards me and I make a hasty retreat. “That’s…” I clear my throat. “That’s not the point.”

He grins at the tremor in my voice and moves towards me. “Me wanting to have you flat on your back, screaming my name as you come all over my tongue isn’t the point?”

I gasp and stumble away another step. I’m against the wall, now, and I curse myself for this little repeat performance from the kitchen. How did I let this happen? “N-no.”

“What if you’re the one on your knees, then, and I’m pushing all the way to the back of your throat—”

“We’re getting way off topic,” I breathe as he boxes me in. He places his hands on either side of my head and I’m surrounded by him—his scent, his size, his power.

“Are we? Because I think the point is, I’d never hurt you. Unless you want me to,” he adds, nipping my earlobe. I yelp, but it melts into a breathy moan as he scrapes his teeth against the delicate skin under my ear. “But if you ever call yourself unremarkable again, I’ll take you over my knee.”

My gut spasms so hard it’s like I’ve taken a punch. Heat flares, and the rush of need flooding my system momentarily stuns me.

“I… you…”

Shit, what had I been saying? Another moan slips out as he brushes his chest against mine, stimulating the already-painfully hard tips of my breasts.

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