Page 28 of A Shot in the Dark
“Wrong branch, princess, but points for trying.”
“It doesn’t matter—I’ll take any points I can get with you.”
He grimaces and looks at his hands. At the gloves. “You like the gloves, too…”
I pad over to him, the scent of him only growing more intoxicating the closer I get. I slip my fingers along his wrist and then remove his gloves slowly, carefully, one finger at a time as he stares at me. “I want to feel your hands all over me.”
His nostrils flare. Realizing there’s actually very little of Boots that I’ve seen, I slip my hands between his warm golden skin and his shirt, sliding it off one arm and then the other as he wrestles to pull mine off.
“I need your consent,” he reminds me, the words thick. “The bite, the bond—seven days—that’s all I’ll ask. All I’ll ever take. I swear.”
“What if I need more than seven?”
His head rolls forward on his neck to hang. “I can’t grant it—I’m not at liberty because of who holds my leash.”
“The masters you mentioned earlier.”
“You actually listen…”
“To every word.” My brow puckers; I wonder at the identity of these people who hold such sway over him, while my fingers track down his chest, pause above his clearly defined abs. “Are these…scars?” Three quarter-sized spots like small full moons mark the skin right below his ribs.
He shrugs. “Missions don’t always go perfectly…”
“And this?” My fingers graze his side, pausing right by two lengthy white stripes, each longer than my hand and as wide as one of my fingers. “More missions gone wrong?”
“In a way.” He catches my wayward hand with his. “Just a little scar tissue—doesn’t hurt any more unless I let it.” He draws my hand up, places my palm flat on his chest. “Focus here.”
“Oh, Boots…”
“Don’t. Don’t try and make this more than it is.”
“I’m not,” I snap. I squeeze my eyes shut. Right. This isnothing. Only the weirdest roadtrip of my life. Just another fuck to slow the rush of my blood, cool the heat in my veins. A temporary way to protect me from something I don’t understand. He doesn’t evenlikeme, he’s justused to me. “Fine,” I say as coolly as I can. “I’ll consent, if you take off the glasses.”
“I am doing this for you—to protectyou. How much more does this have to cost me?”
“Glasses.”
“I don’t have to consent to that,” he mutters. “Shit. Why must you be so…”
“Contrary? High-maintenance?”
“Yeah!” he exclaims. “All that?—”
“—and more?”
“Jesus, woman. And if I don’t take off my glasses, where does that leave you? With no protection. Is seeing my eyes really worth your life?”
“We’re about to find out.”
“Fuck me.”
“I amdeterminedto,” I report. “‘Hard and fast,’” I quote him. “‘Then so slowly you’llbegme to finish you off.’”
That wicked smile of his unfurls all Cheshire cat. And suddenly I am Alice, tumbling. “But,” I remind him, “I want to see your eyes first. And the lady always gets what she wants.”
The sigh that rushes out of him is fierce. “I…” Another sigh. “Damn it.” He lifts them off, folds them closed, and stands before me, every muscle, joint, and tendon tight, his eyes closed.
The air rushes out of me, seeing the scar that bisects his left eyebrow, narrowly missing his eye, and carves into the uppermost part of his cheek, leaving a star-shaped scar the size of my smallest fingernail. I reach up, my finger hanging in the air just above the scar, wanting to touch it.
