Page 74 of His

“You like it rough?” I stood at the foot of the bed. “No, don’t answer. I’ll just do whatever I think you’ll like.”

She didn’t say a word.

I came over next to her on the bed and lay beside her. As I slid my hand over her chest, her breath caught in her throat. I measured her heartbeat. It was slow, steady.

I nuzzled my face into her hair and pressed my mouth against her neck. Her heart jumped under my hand.

“How do you like the book?”

She whimpered.

I licked the soft spot at the end of her jawline, sucked softly at the skin there. Then harder.

“Oh!”

“Not the best writing? You haven’t turned the page since I’ve been here.”

She shut the book with more force than was necessary and let it fall to her side.

Her scent was enough to make me hard, and I pressed against her. As she stared silently at the ceiling, her tongue came out to moisten her bottom lip.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” I said, teasing.

“No.”

“Then tell me you want me.”

“No.”

This time her voice was a whisper. A lie.

Her heart raced under my palm. Slowly, carefully, I eased myself away from her. This was dangerous, and I could not take her now. Not now. I struggled to keep myself from pinning her down, taking her right then.

If she could not make up her mind, I would not make it for her. For the first time in a long time, I found myself wanting something I could not have, and although I wanted to take it, I could not bring myself to. I turned at the doorway and looked at her out of the corner of my eye. Dim gray curves in my bed.

The new brass lock on the door shone brightly in front of me. I touched the deadbolt with my finger. Cool metal. I wanted to touch her, her warm skin, her deliciously tender breasts.

“Don’t kill anyone while you’re out there.”

“I won’t,” I said. She was teasing, yet not teasing. I struggled to find the words to ask what I wanted to ask.

“When I come back…” I trailed off. I had never felt so uncertain, so uncomfortable around anyone. I felt as though I had opened up a part of myself that I should not have opened. It irritated me, grated on my nerves. Did she really care about me? And why did it matter?

“Do what you want,” she said.

What more could I ask for?

The bar I went to had a crowd of people on one end, near the pool tables. For a moment I considered leaving, but then I thought of Kat and sat down at the other end of the bar, next to a middle-aged biker.

This would be her first test with the lock. Would she try to escape? I had waited a while downstairs before leaving and heard nothing coming from the room. But she was smarter than I had given her credit for before.

I would not make that mistake again. One drink, maybe two, and then I would return.

The uncertainty that had grabbed hold of me was astounding. In my own home, I felt like an intruder. Watching her on the bed, I felt out of my element. Uneasy.

I’d never felt uneasy before.

I gulped down the whiskey I’d ordered. The liquid burned as it slid down the back of my throat, easing the irritation. What was it about her that had gotten so far under my skin?

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