Page 67 of Thorns of Lust
“Wrong answer.” My voice was deadly calm, hiding the volcano deep inside me. The one that demanded I get the answers and the one that demanded I don’t hurt her. “One more try.”
She blinked twice, but she held my gaze. Fuck, her cheeks were still flushed from the arousal and her lips sticky from my cum.
Her eyes darted to my left, then to my right. I recognized the signs even before she kicked her shoes off. My hands wrapped around her wrist before she could bolt.
“Not so fucking fast,” I growled, pulling her back. She jerked her arm and my hand wrapped around her throat, tilting it back and squeezing it gently. “Want to run? Do it. I will love every second of hunting you down. But fair warning, I will fuck you hard once I catch you.”
Her body tensed and she remained silent, watching me with those beautiful eyes. She didn’t even fight back. But I wasn’t fooled into thinking she had given up. This woman wasn’t the giving up type. Not long term anyhow.
“So much for a thank you,” she grumbled. “At least you could give me a head start for a blow job well done.”
There she was. The fighter I knew her to be. And a snarky one at that.
“Maybe next time.” She rolled her eyes. Fucking rolled her eyes at me with my hand wrapped around her neck. God, I had to put some fear into her. Men pissed themselves around me and this woman was rolling her eyes. “Now, show me what you found.”
She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a note, fisting it in her palm. I stretched out my hand and waited for her to hand it to me.
She blew a raspberry, her blonde hair flying off her face. She just slapped it into my hand and growled.
“That’s the last time I give you a blow job.”
I smiled. “Don’t taunt me,” I purred. It most certainly wouldn’t be the last time. We’d only gotten started. “And don’t worry. I’ll return the favor.”
The stain on her cheeks deepened to crimson and I smiled, loving the look on her. I’d dreamed of her for years, and I knew the moment I met her, nothing would be the same. When she married Adrian, I convinced myself it was for the best. She seemed happy.
Letting her go was my first and last selfless act. If only I'd known it was all part of Adrian’s plan for revenge. If I knew back then who he was, I’d have claimed her and killed him back then.
I glanced at the paper she put in my hand, while rubbing my thumb gently over her strong pulse.
I go on. Standing in the shadows.
“What does it mean?” I questioned her.
She shrugged, her brows furrowed and a pensive look in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. Then as if she realized it made her sound something less, she added, “Yet.”
Putting my hand on the small of her back and nudging her forward, we headed towards her rental car.
“I have no doubt you’ll unravel it,” I told her, then extended my hand. “The keys. I’m driving us back to the hotel.”
“What if I’m staying with a friend?” she said wryly.
Dry amusement filled me. No friend, no family, no enemy would keep me from her.
“Then you better warn your friend, I’m coming too.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later we were in her hotel room.
Of course, she got the best room the Waldorf had to offer. The Presidential suite. Nothing less would be right for the queen she was.
The moment we entered her room, she dropped her purse on the little side table, kicked off her heels and stretched out her toes. It was such a simple act, yet something about it was so soothing. So fucking right.
I could practically envision her doing that every day when we got home. Together. Fuck, I was getting ahead of myself.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t need company,” she sneered, like the idea of coming home with me was nauseating to her. Too fucking bad. She’d have to get used to it.
I checked the time on my watch. “Well, you’re going to get it.”
