Page 39 of Afraid to Hope

“How is he doing?” Emmet asked the medics.

The medic at Rafiq’s head answered. “He is stable but requires surgery.” He nodded to Natasha and Bane. “You did a great job. Saved his life. We have called ahead to the hospital.”

They continued outside to the ambulance. The cleaners came forward with black bags and followed the medics outside.

“Looks like we’re done here,” Emmet said. “We didn’t have plans to meet tomorrow, but what happened tonight complicates things. What a bloody mess. I’ll see you in the morning. My office—oh nine hundred. Please be prompt.” With that, Emmet followed the men out the door.

Natasha ran the bolt across the door, wishing she felt tired instead of revved up. She turned, almost smashing her face into Bane, who had moved up behind her, his gaze crawling over her face, igniting every single nerve ending in her.

“You mentioned you wouldn’t be able to sleep.” A slow, sensuous smile lit his face. “Where were we before we were interrupted?”

Natasha stepped back and crossed her arms, holding on to her shoulders with opposing hands. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “So that’s all you can think about? Getting in my pants? Jesus, Bane. Think with the head on your shoulders.” She threw her hands up in exasperation and paced. “This… this night has been too much. I need… to get out of my clothes. I’m sure there’s some blood on me. I need to shower. You should too.”

After her shower, Natasha went back downstairs. The adrenaline coursing through her kept her awake. So did thoughts about the man staying in herriad.Bane lounged with one knee up and his leg extended in the corner of the atrium under a soft lamp with his eyes closed and one arm casually draped behind his wet, spiky hair, supporting his head. He seemed unaware of her.

Natasha tiptoed closer to study him. Soft music came from the earbuds he wore. Classical. His other strong hand lay across the hip of his low-slung sweats. Her mouth watered. His ink and well-defined abs were on full display. Everything about Bane was beautifully masculine and underscored his strength, even his bare feet.

“I can feel it coming off you.” He sighed, pulling his earbuds out and opening his eyes. “A whole lotta things are pent up inside. You’re wound tighter than a drum.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sat up, regarding her. “I can help you release some of it.”

Natasha stayed where she was. Her voice grew more agitated with each word. “Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Bane didn’t respond for a while, allowing the silence and tension to build. Just when Natasha was ready to speak again, he stood and approached, speaking quietly, the corner of his sensuous lips drawn up on one side. His eyes sparkled. “Fuck. It’s such a great word. One of my favorites. It’s remarkably versatile, don’t you agree? Think of it. A noun, adjective, verb, or adverb, which you employed just now.” He looked down and shook his head, then considered her with malachite eyes. “Hearing it come out of your mouth is promising.” His voice dropped low. “I’d prefer to hear it from you as a verb.” He raised his brows, his meaning clear.

“Will you stop?” she hissed. “How the hell can you think about sex when—”

“Sex,” Bane said with a sad smile. “Is that what you think. Just sex? I want more than sex, Nat.”

“We don’t even know one another.”

“True, but we can. I’m trying. We both know what we want. Can’t you try to meet me halfway?”

“Get it through your head. I am not interested,” she said pointedly.

Bane stepped closer and she stepped back, brushing up against the wall between two arches, forced to look up into smoldering eyes.

“I call bullshit,” he purred. “You know why?” His finger caressed her neck. “Your pulse accelerates when you’re around me. The closer I get, or when I touch you, like now.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You lick those luscious lips of yours or bite down on the lower one. Christ. That about does me in each time.” He pinned her with his heated gaze. “Your eyes dilate, turning from gray to gunmetal. I wonder how dark they become when you’re on the edge. And your nipples… They tighten, begging for my touch. Damn, how I want to—” Bane’s eyes never left Natasha’s face. “Want me to keep going?” he whispered.

She stared at him and croaked, “No. Just stop. I need to think. I need space.”

“Fine, I’ll give you space. Call me when you need me, because you will, my beauty. Nothing and no one will take care of what you need. Just pray I’m around to satisfy you.”

“You are so overly confident.”

Bane shook his head while giving her a long look, keeping his voice low, his finger a whisper tracing the hot skin of Natasha’s neck and collarbones. His eyes had darkened. “Mm… nope. Just honest. This thing between us is intense and hungry. Off-the-charts chemistry. Doesn’t it get tiring? Denying yourself?”

Natasha’s next words broke the tension. “Nasir was shot. He almost died in my kitchen. He still might die.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I forget how people who aren’t used to situations like this might react.”

Her voice rose in disbelief. “You don’t feel anything? Are you even human?”

“Don’t presume to know what I feel,” he said, his words clipped. “I’ve experienced things that I suspect would turn you inside out.” Bane inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, then opened them slowly and cocked his head, studying her. His voice softened. “Sorry. That was a bit harsh. I heard about Guatemala, what happened. Spooky as shit. You have every right to be rattled. Most people would be.”

She answered cautiously, slightly unmoored by the shifting focus of their conversation, mesmerized by the thickly lashed eyes observing her with keen interest. “You wouldn’t be rattled,” she said, her voice soft, her eyes glistening. One tear escaped and ran down her cheek.Dammit.She whispered, “I was terrified. It haunts me still. I have trouble sleeping because I see his face. I see that scorched mark covering one side of his face. I hear his cries and screams. I smell but don’t see thousands of lit matches in a wet underground cavern. I see a face appearing in the wall. I taste the Mayans’ fear and I feel it too. Something dark and evil.”

“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s Steven King shit. I might have been just as rattled if I’d witnessed what you did in that very moment. There was”—he took a deep breath—“isno explanation for what happened.” He wiped at her tear with the pad of his thumb and licked it.

She imagined his tongue on her skin and shuddered.

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