As much as I scoffed at the idea, seeing him wounded, taking a bullet in his efforts to save me had quieted my internal dissenting voice. The scene played out again and again in my head. I laid on the balcony when the grappling hook took one of the thugs out. Even just thinking about that gunshot sounding had me sucking in a breath.
No, he hadn’t got shot intentionally. The situation had happened so fast, he’d never be able to ensure he got moderately injured and not suffered more – or even died.
“I have to admit, I was kind of winging it then,” he said, much quieter than his boasts, “but another scar is hardly a steep price for keeping you safe.”
The last time we’d been in this cabin, I’d more than explored his body with my eyes and fingers. Worked up as I’d been at the time, I missed a lot of those scars.
As I’d yanked the wetsuit down his body, all the light in the cabin had highlighted each and every one. A razor thin line darkened his shoulder, curving toward his chest. A trio of faded pea-sized dots rose on his abs, just below the ribs to his side. His upper arm had a rough patch, postcard sized with blurred borders. Looked like a burn, couldn’t imagine how painful it had been.
His scars filled out his story. I’d labeled him dangerous the moment I’d seen him. He’d more than proved me right before I’d even noticed the scars. He’d taken the fight to the men on the boat and back in Syracuse, earned another scar, a victory badge. He’d saved my life for this new scar, two counting the exit wound.
“You know, you’ve successfully turned the tables on me,” Alexei continued after I fell silent. I’d been staring at his scarred shoulder. “You have me at your mercy. That’s two times, actually.”
His triumphant smile returned, wide and beaming. I’d fought the desire to slap it that first night. His smug certainty had sounded overconfident, arrogant even. Now, I battled different desires. He’d backed up his words, proven his worth and ability, earned his right to boast.
“When was the first time?” I asked only to fill the silence. I knew the answer.
“You had me at gunpoint,” he replied. His head tilted, narrowed eyes examining. “One pull of the trigger and you’d have been rid of me for good.”
“Yeah, but then I’d be stuck on that cruise ship holding a murder weapon.” I repeated the justification I’d been clinging to since that moment. “My father’s lawyers would get me out of hot water, sure, but it’d be an international story. I don’t want that kind of publicity. People start looking too close.”
“And your father wouldn’t like that.” His anger at the word ‘father’ came out with a bitter rasp, and rage clouded his features, but only for a moment. “That all makes sense, but we both know it’s more than that.”
Even injured, brain fogged from blood loss, he proved way to observant. I’d either given something away or the ass had just guessed well. All the justifications I tried to claim for not shooting him had been excuses, another mental wall hastily constructed to keep inconvenient thoughts away.
He’d made his entire plan out like it was a game, told me as much within a few minutes of meeting him. He only enjoyed contests against worthy opponents. I disagreed. The only goal in any game was winning. If all I wanted was to get away from him, I could have had that with a simple squeeze of the trigger.
“Fine. Congratulations, maybe I don’t want you to die,” I huffed.
A low chuckle shook his chest. He dropped his back to the floor and held both arms out.
“So, now that I’m at your mercy, what do you plan to do with me?” he asked in a rumbling whisper.
I narrowed my eyes at him and sat up straighter, still on my knees from when I had bandaged his leg. The first aid kit slid across the floor when I gave it a push. My knees shuffled up from his thigh to his side until I loomed over him.
His smile faltered, brows scrunched down. Good, I’d kept my intentions from my face. I wouldn’t have him truly at my mercy if he figured out my intentions. Hell, I wasn’t sure of them myself.
Desire won out in the end. I leaned down, one hand falling to his other side. His eyes widened before mine closed and our lips met. We hadn’t kissed the other night when we’d given in to our mutual attraction. Honestly, at least with the guys I’d kissed, I hadn’t exactly enjoyed it before.
Alexei didn’t move at all for a moment. I’d either surprised him or he didn’t want to spook me. His arm curled, hand against my elbow. His other hand slipped behind my back. The kiss deepened but I pulled away before it could continue.
“That was for saving me back on the ship,” I whispered, inches from his face, unwilling to move further away.
“I saved you twice,” he replied. “Are you forgetting the fight on the streets?”
“No, I played my part there, took out my attackers.” I shook my head, longer when I realized it sent my curls brushing against his face. “I’d made it halfway to the cruise ship by the time you and Oleg finished up.”
“Fine,” he huffed, “I guess I should thank you for being such a good nurse.”
The hand on my back slid north. He pushed me closer but it wasn’t like I resisted. Our lips met again. Nobody would have called this kiss chaste. Our tongues danced almost immediately. His hand slid up my arm, fingers found my breast. His other arm wrapped tighter around my back, slid lower toward my ass.
He tried to roll us over, but hissed and dropped to his back. I held his shoulder down and slipped my leg over. The towel covering his waist came with it, freeing him. I froze for a beat and he did the same, inching his head back.
“We don’t have to do this,” he whispered between panting breaths. “You don’t owe me anything. I told Pavel to take us back to Rome once we got you back.”
“You’re letting me go?” I blinked and sucked in a breath, then the rest of his statement hit me. “You don’t want me anymore?”
“Oh, I still want you,” he admitted and pink dappled his cheeks, “but I’m a patient man and you are a challenge. I’ve laid the ground work, left you with quite the impression. I’ll just have to snatch you away again some other time.”
