Page 25 of Possess Me
While almost everything seemed buttoned up about her, the book and the vibrator told a story of frustration. My thoughts drifted to the fact she’d dated Jeffrey. I liked the guy. He was decent people, yet he was a clear womanizer.
Well, hell. Maybe going on this trip had an upside after all.
Once upon a time, Jeffrey had almost convinced me to go in on a small orgy. I’d been much younger then. I’d lied and said timing had prevented me from doing so when in fact, I’d felt guilty for even considering it.
He usually dated two women at a time, his wild stories often leaving me wondering whether the two girls had any idea about their competition. Something told me that Fallon wouldn’t have tolerated such bullshit.
I laughed softly as I grabbed a shirt from the suitcase.
I’d give the woman credit. Given the flush of the most perfect shade of rose on her cheeks, I’d expected her to rush away, pretending that she hadn’t caught me after taking a shower.
But she hadn’t.
To my surprise, she’d picked up the empty glass she’d dropped, lifting it in a salute. With a huge smile on her face, she’d given me a onceover, using that moment to head inside.
And I’d waited, curious as to what she would do.
The answer?
She’d refilled her drink, returning yet heading toward the comfy-looking chair facing the other direction where she’d proceeded to read a book.
The book of choice?
The one I’d discovered hiding in her suitcase.
The one I’d dared read a few paragraphs of.
Since I was a red-blooded boy, I’d taken the moment to notice what she’d changed into. The dress had hugged against every rounded curve, but not so tightly that it hadn’t left much to my imagination. In fact, for the last thirty minutes, I’d thoughtabout nothing else but peeling it off and discovering the hidden curves that had already made my mouth water.
She’d lost the pin holding her hair into a tight bun and I’d been surprised how long and luxurious the thick strands appeared in the golden halo of light. The way the wind blew, keeping her hair shifting back and forth across her shoulders kept my attention for a few seconds.
Even now as I thought about catching her watching me, my balls tightened.
No one in my family or beyond would ever say I coveted anything. Not women. Not clothes. I had very little of what anyone could call art on my walls, nor did I shop at the finest men’s clothing stores or jet away to Europe to a favored Italian tailor.
Now, years later, there were two things in my life that meant something to me.
My Harley and my wine collection.
Everything else was simply a necessity or had been a gift.
Now perhaps that was a callous way to think about any future relationships, but I knew who I was. Dead and dangerous. While magazines had enjoyed labeling every Dmitriyev male as an incredible catch, only my family understood the depth of my pain.
Exhaling, I took a few seconds as memories of the past collided with the shutdown mechanisms I’d forged into place fifteen years before. I’d spent relatively little time around Fallon, yet she’d managed somehow in her bag of tricks to pick the padlock I’d put into place long before.
Fuck. Another good reason for never getting serious with anyone. Granted, I wasn’t considered the playboy like my cousin Kazimir, but when the physical urge had hit me, I’d made a habit of enjoying the company of a woman for a finite period of time.
Few knew the reason because it was none of their goddamn business.
Not that I was pining away for some long-term relationship. Then why was I suddenly running over my life with a fine-tooth comb? I didn’t know anything about Ms. Zimmerman except I had a feeling if she wasn’t hiding behind a mask of professionalism, she’d allow me to know exactly what she thought about me.
I doubted it would be good.
Which was why I was in the mood to push her from her comfort zone. It was a game I enjoyed playing. Everyone could hide behind something for long enough most people were shattered when the truth was exposed. In my world, the practice was dangerous.
Moving toward my suitcase, I grabbed one of two weapons, sliding the Baretta under my shirttail into my trousers. Being careful over the years had kept every member of the Dmitriyev family alive. Sometimes against the odds. I grabbed the keycard and headed out the door.
Why not insist she have dinner with me? We both needed to eat.
