Font Size:

Jovi studied me in the remains of my Christmas tree pajamas. “You do not?”

“I think,” I said carefully, diplomatically, even though my father was not in the room and I wouldn’t have been speaking like this if he was, “that anyone who is concerned with whether or not something isclassydoesn’t have much class to begin with. But we are talking about a man who would never cook for his own wife. He would see that as a direct assault upon his masculinity.”

Though now, as I said a thing like that, I had a better grasp of the implications.

“Then he is not much of a man,” Jovi said after a moment, and I could tell that we were both picturing the things he’d done with his wicked mouth between my legs, making me cry out so loud I was shocked the Policie Ceské Republiky had not broken down the doors. “But this is not a surprise.”

I could feel his tongue again as if he was still crouched there between my legs with his hands holding me high and open. I wanted more of that, even though I thought it might actually be the thing that killed me.

But I couldn’t really believe he wastalkingto me. I wanted to keep it going. “But the men you work for are better?”

I could tell it was a mistake immediately. He went hard and cold in a blink. I’m not sure he moved. He simply…changed.

“Who is it that you think I work for?” he demanded, in that softly intimidating way of his.

I could feel my eyes go wide. “I have no idea.” I pointed at the tattoo on his chest. “Somebody, though. I’m betting.”

He put a hand on his heart as if he’d forgotten the tattoo was there. Then he looked down, as if he’d forgotten his heart was there, too.

When he looked up again, he looked almost…shaken. Alarmed. Something like that.

He did not have to tell me that this was not a normal reaction for him. That he did not usually feel these things.

Or anything.

“This is not a conversation we need to have,” he said with that quiet command. That I had responded to before he touched me, but now…

I could feel it. Licks of sweet, wild fire, everywhere.

“You said you were a man of vows,” I reminded him. “What does that mean? Is that what your tattoo says?”

We were still standing in the flat’s sprawling galley kitchen that was outfitted with sleek, impressive appliances, none of them offering the slightest personal hint about the man who seemed so comfortable here that he had fresh groceries in the refrigerator. Nothing in the flat was personal, I realized then. This was a way station, not a home.

I was glad the kitchen opened up to the living area, because Jovi didn’t need any help taking up all the air there was.

And I needed to pay more attention to my breath.

Meaning, I needed to stop holding it.

“You should be very careful asking questions,baggiana,” he warned me. “I am not certain you want the answers.”

“I thought I made this clear,” I said at once. “I want everything.”

“This I doubt.”

“You’re the only one who knows how much life I have left to live,” I reminded him, and the funniest thing was that I felt almost…comfortable that I was so fully in his hands. Life, death, and all the pleasure in between. It didn’t feel like a risk, it feltright. “What I want is every last thing I can find in that period of time. That’s all.” I blew out a breath. “And only you can give it to me, Jovi. Only you.”

He moved toward me then, and I had the sensation it wasn’t of his own volition. There was that wondering sort of look on his face once more as he fit his hand to my jaw.

I watched his eyes flare when I nestled my cheek more deeply into his grip.

“My family operates on loyalty,” he told me after a moment, his voice a dark, thrilling scrape of sound. “My father chose disloyalty and paid for it. So it has never been enough for me to express my own loyalty or honor. I’ve had to prove it. Live it.” His dark eyes scanned mine. “Become it.”

“What did your father do?” I dared to ask.

He looked almost shocked. And I had a little bolt of intuition then. I would have sworn on anything and everything I was that he had never talked about these things before with any other woman.

Or anyone else, for that matter.