“You can keep your tired-ass dick to yourself. I have questions for you,” I say.Focus. I’ve got to calm my ass down.
I slowly uncurl my fingers from around his forearm and take a step in the opposite direction. The Dom slides the thong down and off and kicks it aside, flicking the condom away before reaching for a pair of silk boxers. He draws them up over his hips, not even bothering to clean himself.
At least he’s put his business away. I’ve got to make sure he can’t escape or try to avoid this conversation.
I can’t tear my gaze away from the tattoo on his back.It’s him. This is it.He’s either the murderer or he knows who did the deed. The design is unique and the lighter custom-made. Everyone in the department agrees.
Where had the Dom seen the design to get the tattoo donee if he wasn’t connected to the case?
I will my heart to stop pounding so hard, otherwise I might pass out. My chest tightens, muscles clenching with adrenaline and the desperate need to kick this man’s ass.
Whoever he is.
“If you’re not here to fuck, then get out of my way. I’m busy.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “Too many clothes on, anyway, and a flat ass.”
I glower at him. “Who do you think you are?”
He leans in closer and flashes teeth. “Didn’t you hear? I’m fucking Thor.”
“I don’t want your stage name.” I jog to close the door behind us and block the exit with my body. “What’s your real name?”
“What makes you think I’ll give it to you? Especially if you’re not here for fun.” He seems to find my snarl amusing, if his grin is any indication.
“Name. Please.” It pains me to add the last part.
“Who do I think I am?” he repeats. “You want answers and you’re not willing to give me anything in return? Too bad. Despite the flat ass, you actually have a whole vibe going on.” He uses the towel to gesture to my ponytail. “I kinda like it.”
Rather than waiting for him to make a move, I get in his face, pushing a hand against his bare chest. “You’re going to answer me.”
He looks from my palm to my face and loses all hint of his smile. “What are you trying to start?”
I want to do a lot worse than a little slap. I want to knock his head into the floor and watch tears leak from the corners of his eyes.
My dad…
I’m not lettingThorleave this room without getting my answers and leaving him with some bruises. How’s that for something in return?
“Sweetheart…” He smirks. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Yourname.”
His arm snakes out before I’m aware of the movement and suddenly his fingers are wrapped around my throat.
“What are you?” he asks.
“I’m a cop.”
He barks out a laugh and squeezes my neck to the point where breathing becomes difficult. “Well that just makes me even less inclined to tell you my name.”
I kick out at him, hoping to land a hit to that dick and not expecting him to anticipate my movement. The second I go to slam the side of my hand to his elbow, to get him to let me go the way my self-defense instructor showed us, he’s already got my back to the wall and my feet several inches above the floor.
“Let me go!” I hold his wrist, kicking at nothing.
“You want a name? Might be one you already know. Gabriel Blackwell.” His eyes narrow. “Sweetheart.”
Black spots dance across my vision and I gasp, struggling to breathe. “I’m not your goddamn sweetheart.”
“No, you’re just a nuisance.” He squeezes a bit tighter.