Page 11 of Chaos
Faint sounds come from behind a closed door that must be the bathroom. She's home. I experience momentary relief before I remember why I'm here.
On the table sits a stack of textbooks. I pick one up.Advanced Pharmacology and Medication Therapy. Beside it, a notebook filled with meticulous handwriting—formulas, medication interactions, detailed diagrams. She’s trying to better herself. I admire that.
The sound of a toilet flushing pulls my attention just as I hear the unmistakable sound of someone testing the apartment's front door handle. Testing it quietly, carefully. Not someone who belongs here.
In three silent strides, I cross to the bathroom, slip inside, close the door behind me, and find myself chest-to-face with a very startled, very naked Rowan.
Her mouth opens to scream, but I move fast, covering her mouth—not with my hand, which would be the logical choice, but with my own mouth.
The kiss is electric, a jolt of pure fucking lightning that starts at my lips and shoots straight through my entire body, centering on my dick. Her lips are soft, plush, and they part in surprise beneath mine. I groan, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. My hands slide down to her waist, and Christ, her skin is like silk.
I could've used my palm to silence her. But I couldn't resist. Not with those full lips that have been haunting me since the moment I saw her. Not with her standing in front of me, all pale skin and rounded curves that my hands itch to explore.
She's all woman—lush breasts, soft belly, flared hips—and the feel of her silky skin is more intoxicating than any drug I've ever sampled. And I've sampled plenty.
The kiss deepens, my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, demanding entry. She hesitates only a moment before yielding. A small whimper escapes her as I claim her more thoroughly. My hands slide down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly, pressingher firmly against my hard cock. Against the evidence of exactly how much I want to fuck her.
I want to devour her whole. Want to lay her out and taste every inch of her pale skin. The intensity of it staggers me, this overwhelming need.
But I hear the front door open.
I tear my mouth from hers, pressing my finger to her lips in a silent command to stay quiet. Her eyes are huge, dilated with fear and…desire, maybe? Her chest rises and falls rapidly, pink nipples hardened to tight buds. It takes a good deal of willpower to drag my gaze from her body and focus on the threat beyond the bathroom door.
I mouth a single word to her—stay.
Then I slip out of the bathroom, closing the door silently behind me.
Two men stand in the middle of the apartment, both dressed in dark clothes. Cartel goons here to clean up loose ends. One wears a shoulder holster with what looks like a Glock. The other carries a knife strapped at his hip.
Clearly they were expecting a small, frightened young woman. Seeing me must blindside them since they momentarily freeze. I use that split-second delay to my advantage, and lunge. The first man goes down without a sound—a hand over his mouth, knife slicing cleanly across his throat. Hot blood cascades over my hand as I lower him to the floor.
The second man turns just in time to see his partner fall. He reaches for his gun, but I'm on him before his fingers close around the grip. I grab his head between my hands and twist violently, the crack of his spine breaking echoing in the small space.
It's over in less than thirty seconds. Two bodies, cooling on the cheap linoleum floor. I wipe my knife on one man's shirt before re-sheathing it.
When I open the bathroom door, Rowan is re-dressed in her dirty, garbage-stained clothes. Her face is pale, eyes still wide. I don’t like seeing her like this—scared and vulnerable.
"It's not safe here, sweetheart." I keep my voice gentle, like I'm talking to a frightened animal.
She hesitates, her gaze flicking toward the bathroom door and what lies beyond.
She looks up at me, those hazel eyes swimming with tears. "Where else?—”
“You’re coming with me." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to focus on me and not whatever horror she's imagining out there. "It's the safest place for you. I’ll protect you."
Confusion flickers across her features. "But my things?—"
"We'll send someone for whatever you need." I stroke my thumb across her tear-stained cheek. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?”
The question hangs between us, weighted with everything that's happened tonight. The kiss. The killings. The unspoken energy crackling between us like a live wire.
She swallows hard, then nods. “I think so. Um…yes."
Good. "Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes," I repeat, gentler this time. "And don't open them until I tell you to."
