Page 27 of Wicked Duty
As she pants and struggles, I notice how small her wrist bones are. Delicate. Not that you’d ever guess from the strength in her lithe arms. She fights against my restraint, determined to escape, so I tighten my hold.
My burst of anger drains, allowing me to appreciate the sensation of her body pressed against mine. Soft curves. Firm muscle. And so, so close. The more she squirms, the more my mind rewinds to a few hours ago. To the sensation of her fingers in my hair and how my blood heated when she trailed them down my pecs and abs. To her sassy little mouth.
Fuck. I cannot go there.
Especially now, with blood dripping from my neck like I lost a fight with a razor. Unfortunately, even the thought of her damaging me with those claws strengthens the desire to bury myself inside her and discover if she’s just as feral in bed.
“Those nails of yours aren’t laced with poison, are they?”
“Screw you!”
“Change your mind?” I cock my head. “After the way you bolted this morning, I figured you were passing.”
Her muscles tense. I don’t know why I love riling her up so much.
Maybe I didn’t pay close enough attention before, but she smells like sin. Pure, heady, rot-in-hell-but-enjoy-the-ridesin.
Her skin gives off the intoxicating fragrance of delicious forbidden fruit. A subtle jasmine scent that tantalizes me with every inhalation.
I shove my inconvenient lust aside and meet her tempestuous gaze. “Are you done fighting me?”
Ex-special forces or not, I’m still a man.
If I don’t put some distance between us soon, my self-control might falter. Already, I’m barely rebuffing the impulse to lick that sweat droplet off her elegant throat. Her attitude and fight only stiffen my dick more. Which is fucked up.
Why now? Whyher?
“Get the hell away from me!” Lucy squirms again, drawing back her leg to kick me.
I pitch my hips forward, pinning us even closer together, causing my arousal to grind into her belly. Lucy must notice because her pupils dilate.
Her gaze drops to my mouth. The faintest hint of a shudder ripples through her slender frame.
She stills. “I’m calm now. You can let go.”
With a grunt, I peel myself from her body, easing my grip around her wrists. “Glad we have an understanding. Scratch me again, and I’ll restrain you with something other than my hands.”
Lucy flinches back against the refrigerator like I punched her. Any hints of desire still simmering in her eyes vanish, replaced by something darker. The second I step away so that she can get around me, she darts away like the hounds of hell are hot on her heels. She flees to the now-unguarded front door, swiping her purse off the table with a shaking hand as she goes.
I frown. What the fuck was that about?
My eyes don’t stray from her as she gulps a series of deep breaths like she’s attempting to regain her composure.
Why? Because of my threat to restrain her?
Just when I begin to worry, she stops, lifting her chin high.
“Okay, asshole.” She places her hands on her waist and pins me with her sharp stare. “You put my phone out of commission. Can we go now? I don’t want to be late.”
Chapter 10
Lucy
Using the same amount of effort required to land a man on the moon, I push the phone incident to the deepest corner of my mind.
Luckily for me, distraction is easy in a place like this.
The Runway Revolution production has taken over the ballroom of the Manhattan Ritz-Carlton. Floor-to-ceiling windows brighten the room, and a spotlight follows contestants across a long stage, providing additional illumination. Cream upholstered dining chairs stacked ten-high line the wall.
