With the coast clear, he quickly ushered us inside, and it wasn’t until we were safely in his penthouse that I heard him exhale.
As I shrugged out of my jacket, Shep kicked his shoes off by the entrance and then stalked to the kitchen.
Oh, he was still pissed—and apparently giving me the silent treatment.
I didn’t do well with that.
Running my hand through my hair, I sighed and followed after him, preparing myself for yet another argument. Jesus, you would think I got off on those.
But Shep’s back was to me as he pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer, along with a stainless-steel shaker.
“Putain.I’ve driven you to drink?” I teased, trying to lighten the heaviness I could feel in the room. “Or was it King? He’s caused many a hangover for me.”
Shep didn’t say a word as he grabbed a large knife from a drawer.
“Have I driven you to murder too?” I said, shaking my head. “You can put the knife down and just take it out on my body instead. I won’t mind.”
He finally looked at me then, but the man I’d finally come to know so well had an unreadable look all over that handsome face. If I had to guess, he was feeling several emotions right now, the same as I was, and somewhere in there had to be a sense of relief that this would all be over soon.
Although that didn’t seem to be his primary emotion at the moment.
Shep grabbed a fresh lemon from the bowl of fruit and began to slice it, his use of the knife clean and sharp—and deadly. He tossed the slices into the shaker, added a healthy amount of vodka and the lid, and began to shake the hell out of it, much harder than he needed to.
I swallowed a groan and pulled myself up onto the counter beside him, forcing him to be in my orbit whether he wanted to or not.
“You have to talk to me, you know,” I said. “If you need to yell, go for it.”
Still shaking the vodka to hell and back, Shep cocked his head at me, those full, kissable lips set into a grimace that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was. I wanted to nibble on those lips, suck that delicious tongue into my mouth, and spend the night celebrating. How did he not want the same? Weremylips just not as tempting as his were? He could resist me better than I could him?
No. Impossible.
He grabbed a couple of crystal tumblers, poured the vodka into both—all the way to the very top—and then handed me one.
Hell, I supposed it was promising he was still sharing.
“What are we drinking to?” I asked, lifting my legs to wrap around his body and pull him in closer. I kept him in a tight holdas I looked up at him, but to his credit, he wasn’t trying to move away. Those blue eyes were full of a deeper emotion than just anger, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I waited for his answer.
“To being smart and staying safe,” he said, tapping my glass and holding my gaze as he brought the drink to his lips.
I sighed. “Shep?—”
“Just drink.” He tipped my glass toward my mouth, and I swallowed back the lemon-tinged vodka. It was icy cold and refreshing, but he was drinking under an illusion if he thought this meant I was agreeing with his point of view.
“I think we should talk.”
“Nowyou think we should talk?” Shep pursed his lips and nodded. “Seems about right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged then moved out of my hold, walking over to the opposite side of the kitchen, where he leaned back against the counter and took my measure.
Usually I’d bask in his once-over, but the frown he’d been sporting seconds ago deepened, letting me know that whatever he was thinking wasn’t anything flattering.
“Shep?”
“It just means that we always seem to do the talking whenyou’reready.” He eyed me over the rim of his glass. “The other night when you were fuming over what we found in the locker, you wanted to drink, I wanted to talk—you won. This morning, you wanted to offer yourself up as bait,and I wanted to think of any other plan. Again—you won.”
“I didn’t realize this was a contest.”
