“I told you to leave, Collins,” I say, my voice a gruff echo in the hollow corridor. “That means I definitely don’t want you sneaking around my observatory.”
The darkness is physical, thrumming with an electric chord pulled taut between our bodies. Concealed beneath the shadows, the temptation to do bad things doesn’t feel so reckless.
Reining in my impulses, I grit my teeth against that very need and slowly lower my hand from her mouth, just enough for her to drag in a breath. Now that I have her trapped, it’s impossible to release her.
I slide my gloved fingers along the delicate curve of her jawline until I reach the back of her neck. Thumb braced to the soft space beneath her chin, I tilt her face up to mine. “Why are you still here.”
“Because you need me,” she says in a rush of breath. Her strained swallow works the digastric muscle of her jaw against my palm, and it’s entirely too arousing.
The heat of her skin reaches me through the sheer fabric of her clothes, and my nostrils flare. “The truth,” I demand.
“Jesus, Orion.” Her voice cracks softly. “That is the truth. You need me. And I need—” She breaks off. Her gaze searches my face, a hint of vulnerability slipping into hers. “I need this to work. I’ve spent years studying compulsions in the darkest minds. I came here because of you, because I thought you might be the one person who’d understand this obsessive drive. I just need the ideal patient to prove my approach.”
My jaw tightens as I assess her, my gaze drifting lower as I ease my hand aside. Even in the dark, I can make out the faded pattern of bruises lining her throat. A feral anger grips me as I imagine her conducting herapproachwith someone else.
“The ideal patient,” I repeat, dry amusement lacing my tone. “And your method involves you spreading your legs on a desk, tempting me to tear my fucking glove off with my teeth and sink inside you. Is that it?”
She releases a shaky breath. “Is that what you wanted to do?”
Her thighs squeeze together, and I make a rough sound. “Fuck me.” Helplessly compelled, I skim my gloved fingers along the column of her throat. “Tell me who put thse bruises on you,” I demand, voice lowering to a seductive pitch.
Her lips tremble. “That’s personal.”
“Mmm.” Tenderly, I sweep her hair aside, dropping my mouth dangerously close to her ear. “When I find out, I’m going to make itveryfucking personal, little archer.” Pulling back, I align my fingertips with the marks. My hand is too large—but not hers. They’re self-inflicted.
“God damn,” I mutter harshly. I breathe her in until my lungs ache, letting her arousing scent and fiery defiance sear. “You’re also a little twisted, Dr. Holbrook.”
She holds my gaze, and as I fall deeper into her, a dark vein threads the golden arc of her teal eyes. “I prefer unafraid. Daring. Challenging convention.”
I nod slowly. “Cunning. Manipulative. Torching those incorruptible ethics to the ground.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Her eyes search me, and I’m arrested by the way those captivating lashes feather her cheekbones as she settles that branding gaze on my mouth.
A low groan betrays my conflict. “So, working with someonegiftedin their fieldreally meant you needed a deviant with a ruined reputation. That’s your ideal patient.”
She arches an eyebrow. “You’d rather I lie to you?”
A wild flame lashes through me, every muscle strained as I hold something feral back. Collins flinches with a wince of pain, just a small clench of her features, and I realize how tight my grip has become along the sides of her throat.
I loosen my hold a fraction and turn my head, latching onto where I have her arm pinned, to the inked constellation peeking above the web of my glove. Fixated, I tenderly rub my thumb over her inner wrist.
“Are you experiencing a physical reaction, Orion?” She arches her back, her breasts making contact with my chest and setting off a riot inside my body.
“Collins—” I say her name in warning, my cock straining against the closure of my pants. I swear, if she pushes her hips forward even another inch, I’ll come undone right here.
On instinct, I release her and retreat a forceful step back. Her cautious eyes remain fused to mine as I slip my hand into my pocket, seeking the instrument there that demands my attention every bit as much as her consuming stare.
She touches her neck, gingerly feeling the echo of my rough touch. “I know what happened in my office…things got intense.” The hesitation in her voice alludes to more than the heated exchange between us.
With a guarded step forward, she continues, “You had a right to question my method. I admit, I expected more resistance from you. And the way I handled it…” She pauses, bites her lip. “That wasn’t exactly ethical on my part.”
I huff a derisive breath, my gaze descending to the fitted curve of her skirt, traitorously wondering if she’s wearing panties right now. No one’s ever challenged my goddamn sanity more.
“But then I realized,” she presses on, “your anger wasn’t fueledby any threat to have you removed, or even committed. None of that truly threatens you.” She swallows, the subtle motion revealing her vulnerability.
Teeth gritted, I resist pressing a hand to my forehead, where the aching pressure builds. Goddammit, I’m trying to show her some mercy here—trying to preserve even a sliver of humanity by not hurting her before I’m forced to.
Everything about Collins is unknown. And a selfish part of me wants it to remain that way.
