Page 8 of Innocent Intentions

I look up, right into his eyes.

Before I can even blink, he’s on me.

I gasp as my back slams into the brick wall. His arms cage me in, one on either side of my head. He’s crouched just enough to be eye level with me.

“Who are you?”

His voice sounds even harsher than it did a few seconds ago, and he sounded pretty damn scary then.

But I’m not paying attention. Not to his tone, not to his words. Because,holy shit,his eyes.

Light brown, flecked with gold. They’remesmerizing. And his lashes, they’re thick, dark, and ridiculously long.

Not fair.

He lets out a grunt of annoyance. Which draws my gaze to his mouth. His full, pink lips. I bet they’re soft. My tongue darts out, wetting mine. I start to lean forward, needing to feel them.

“Who are you?” He repeats, his voice sharp as a knife.

I freeze mid-lean.

Oh, right. The part where he might kill me. That’s where we are right now.

My cheeks start blazing. Definitely out of fear. Not embarrassment from being caught ogling him.Sure, and also not from being held up by such a hot man.

My inner tramp needs to calm the hell down.

“Hello?” He gives me a little shake.

That does it. I blink, snapping back to reality.

“I’m Margot.” I blurt before I can think better of it.Great. Give the potential murderer your name. Brilliant.

He exhales sharply. “Okay, Margot. Why were you following me?”

I fumble in my pocket, pull out his credit card, and hold it up.

“Oh! You forgot your card at the coffee shop, so I was bringing it to you. It was my good deed of the day. But then I heard…” I trail off.

No way am I admitting I just overheard all of that. I like my tongue. I would like to keep it where it belongs. In my mouth.

“I left my card.” He says slowly as if realizing it for the first time.

“Yes.”

“And you followed me, a stranger, into an alley… to return it?”

“As I said, it was my good deed of the day.” I repeat, flushing further. Why does doing a good deed make me even more embarrassed in front of this man?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the sky, “What am I going to do with you?”

I don’t get a chance to respond, because an accented voice calls from the darkness. “Come out. We found you. You have nowhere to go.”

“Help!” I scream over his shoulder, hoping the man will hear me.

Mr. Montclair curses, and slaps a palm over my mouth, but it’s too late.

“We will tell Viktor we have eyes on the target. He will be happy when we deliver.”

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