Page 50 of Regret

“You’ll see.”

She leisurely walked around the car, admiring every curve of the world class sports car. “You say that like you actually think I trust you and that I will just go with you wherever you want to take me. But I’ve got news for you, Batman, I’m not that easy.”

Then like a fucking lightning bolt, Hunter had her pinned against the car, glaring down at her like he didn’t know if he wanted to kill her or devour her—which might just be the same thing.

“You need to start talking, now.”

“Whatever about, Mr. Keaton?”

“About what the fuck is going on.”

“I told you—”

“You told me squat. Do not for one second think that I actually believe this shit you have going with Wolfe is as simple as you standing in the way of him getting a hold of Granny’s fortune.”

Scarlet lifted her chin. “I told you what you need to know. You do not have to know anything more.”

“When I’m the one with the gun risking my life, I need to know more—a whole lot more.”

Usually, Scarlet had all kinds of comebacks. Lacking wiseass and snarky remarks hidden with a healthy dose of sarcasm was not something she experienced on a regular basis. But being this close to a man who, for some weird and wonderful reason, had her insides all tangled up in a bundle of raging, fiery hormonal mess—she had nothing. No witty comeback. No sarcastic slap in the face. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

He pushed harder against her, his hands flush against the roof of the car. Having approximately six feet and seven inches of pure steel and muscle towering over you, green eyes that could melt the panties off any woman within a nanosecond staring down at you, nowthatwas what Scarlet would call a great recipe for mind-blowing sex—or a giant fucking disaster. She also had the memory of how his lips felt against hers still fresh in her mind, making it even more difficult to not think about warm breaths, sweaty bodies, and cries of pleasure peeling the plaster off the walls.

The more she stared into his eyes, the brighter his determination beamed from those beautiful green irises of his. And for a reason completely unbeknownst to her, she was suddenly overthrown with the need to tell him everything. Not just what she thought he needed to know, but everything. But could she trust him? It had been so long since she allowed herself to trust anyone. Yet here she was wanting nothing more than to be able to trust a man she had only known for twenty-four hours—a stranger.

She inhaled sharply. “Fine. If we can manage to get away, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything, Scarlet.”

“Yes,” she blurted out. “I said everything, didn’t I?”

“Good.” He stepped back, giving her some breathing space, allowing her mind to think of something other than having his body all over hers. Just as he was about to move around the car, he stopped and turned to her. “And that back there, in the elevator…”

“You mean when you kissed me?”

“Yeah. That.”

“What about it?”

“I was just trying to help you get a grip of yourself. So don’t read anything into it.”

If it wasn’t for the cold, hard look in his eyes, or the way he stared at her like she was some sort of disease trying to infect him, she might have called his bluff. But it was there, written all over his face that she had no reason to believe that their little tongue fucking-fest had affected him the same way it had affected her.

The kiss was nothing more than a distraction, a way to get her raging panic under control. Of course it was nothing more than that. What the fuck was she thinking?

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