Aiden shifted, not liking the turn of his thoughts. Charlie was a means to an end. She’d have to fight her own battles—Aiden had enough people to watch over without adding a former cop who would never understand that his life wasn’t the same as most people’s and he could give two fucks how many laws he broke in the pursuit of protecting his family.
As much to remind himself as to remind her, he asked, “Does your father know where you are right now?”
Charlie frowned. “My father is no concern of yours.”
She didn’t ask how he knew enough about her father to ask, and he didn’t offer. Admitting that her role as John Finch’s daughter was a large reason why he’d singled her out might be enough to make her bolt, and Aiden had put too much time and money into this plan to change gears now.
No one but Charlie would do.
So he allowed her to change the subject.
She walked to the mirror and fixed her brilliant red lipstick, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. “Your sister is drowning. I think half the reason she’s been sneaking out is so someone will pay attentionto her.”
He didn’t particularly want to hear about the ways he was failing Keira. He knew. He had been for years. “She’s not happy when I pay attention to her. She claims I’m stifling her.”
“And you just listen to her?” Charlie snorted, but the amusement fled as soon as it’d appeared. “Those ruined paintings in her room, the ones that have been ripped toshreds or smeared with black…those were hers, weren’t they? It’s not my place to say it—”
“Then don’t.” He spoke too harshly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Aiden put his hands on her hips and leaned against her back, pressing her against the counter and meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Leave it alone.”
She glared. “Don’t ask too many questions, don’t try to fix things. Am I allowed to piss without your permission, or should I check in with you first?”
This was what he needed—a fight or a fuck to burn off some energy before he had to get his mask firmly in place. “Don’t be pissy.”
“I’mnot the one being pissy.” She pushed back against him, but he didn’t give her an inch. “Back off.”
“Why are you really angry, Charlie? Because I’m telling you not to meddle with my family? Or because I haven’t touched that pretty pussy of yours in days?” He ignored her gasp of outrage and reached around to press the heel of his hand against the junction of her thighs. “Do you ache for me?”
She laughed softly, the sound hoarse as she pressed back against him again. “Who said I need you?” Red haze filtered across his vision, and her next words did little to calm it. “I’m quite capable of taking care of that myself.” She covered his hand with her own, digging her nails in a little. “In fact, I fingered myself while you were in the shower.”
It was all too easy to paint the picture in his head, of her on her back on the bed, her eyes closed and her fingers working between her thighs. He removed his hand, ignoring the way she allowed her nails to rake across the back of it. “Let’s get one thing clear—”
“Onething? I have a goddamn list.”
He bracketed her throat, putting just enough pressure there to stop her words. “Did you change your mind?”
She narrowed her eyes but didn’t try to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about. “You play your game your way. I’ll play it mine.”
Disobedient and willful to the very end. He couldn’t decide if she was trying to provoke a response or if she was just that opposed to being locked down in any way. In the end, it didn’t matter. “I should bend you over this counter and fuck you into submission.”
“Don’t think for a second it would work.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “And beyond that, we’re already going to be late, so unless you’re looking for a quickie, fucking me in any way is out of the question.”
The irrational side of him, which always seemed to come into play around her, rose to demand he throw caution to the wind and prove her wrong. He reined it in, but only barely. Every time she pushed him, intentionally or not, he slid a little closer to the edge. It was only a matter of time before he went over—and took her with him.
Aiden let go of her and stepped back. He didn’t like the confusion on her face—or the flicker of hurt that rose as he moved to the dresser across the room. For all her spikes, there was something fragile about Charlie, and he’d have to be a special kind of bastard to want to shatter her, no matter who her father was.
He opened the drawer at the bottom that had been empty until a week ago. “Take off your panties.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He gave her a look. “You heard me.”
“I’m waiting for you to explain.”
Aiden shook his head slowly. “There aren’t two separate games—there’s onlymygame. Either play along or deal with the consequences.” He picked an item out of the drawer and held it up. “Here’s your first punishment.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” But her eyes lit with interest at the small blue vibe in his hand.
He motioned her forward, giving her plenty of time to tell him to go to hell.
