Page 23 of Lethal Torture
I’ve never been more shattered by an orgasm in my life.
I stand up as soon as I trust my legs, pushing Rocco aside.
Luke holds my eyes and doesn’t move a muscle.
Focusing every effort on retaining at least some control over my weak-limbed, satiated body, I turn my back on him and disappear behind the screen.
Game: Captain fucking Macarthur.
5
LUKE
“Good interview?”Roman Borovsky gives me a sly smile.
“I’ve had worse.” I pour myself a Scotch with a surprisingly steady hand, given how I’ve spent the last half an hour.
“Really,” says Mak dryly, lounging in the chair opposite and regarding me with an infuriating smile I’d really enjoy knocking off his face. “Still not interested in taking the job?”
I don’t miss the challenge in his voice.
I take a deliberate sip of Scotch and meet his eyes steadily. “I have some questions.”
Dimitry chokes on his drink. “No shit,” he mutters, wiping his eyes.
Mak is still smiling at me, not that you’d ever know what the fucker is thinking. He has a better poker face than even Zinaida Melikov.
Don’t think about her.
Don’t think about the white-blonde hair slicked back into a tight coil my fingers are aching to pull free.
Don’t think about the long, slender legs opened wide or the glistening, swollen flesh between them that will likely have my cock hard for a week.
Don’t think about the moment her mask almost dropped, giving me a glimpse of a mystery beneath that could drive a man insane.
Don’t think about the fact that there is no way you should ever take this job.
“You said there’s a target on her back.” I roll the ice in my drink and tilt it to indicate the vast crowd in the old theater, and the equally significant security presence. “Zinaida clearly has resources at her disposal. Why is she hiring from outside? And why do I get the feeling you all want me to take the job?”
“Thoseareyour questions?” Roman says, grinning. “Nothey, what the fuck is wrong with her?Not evenwhat the hell was that?”
I don’t answer, just look back at him with the same blank, silent stare I gave Zinaida.
It’s not hard. Years spent in active war zones have taught me a thing or two about how to disassociate. Not to mention how to endure torture.
That said, as far as methods of torture go, Zinaida Melikov’s skills are definitely next-level.
Roman lifts his glass to me in a silent toast. “You’re one cool bastard, Macarthur, I’ll give you that. I’ve never seen a man walk out of the Viewing Gallery after half an hour with Zin with his sanity even remotely intact.”
I don’t answer that, either.
Dimitry, the prick, is just lolling back in the booth, smirking as he drinks his Scotch.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, shooting him a sideways look.
He raises his glass at me, his smile widening. “Fuck you, too.”
Helpful.I’m going to thoroughly enjoy putting Dimitry on his ass next time we train together.
