"Viktor is right about you," I said. "Youaredangerous."
Little lines appeared between her eyebrows as she frowned at that. "To the Russians?"
"Not to the Russians."
Her brow smoothed out as she took a step closer to the sound of my voice. "To you?"
"Yes," I breathed.
"And yet you keep showing up."
"Maybe I'm an idiot."
"Maybe." Another step. She was close enough that I could smell her over the chemicals and the trash—sweet warm skin and something muskier underneath. Arousal? Or was I imagining what I wanted to smell? "But I think it's something else."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"I think you like being close to me." She reached out, and her fingers found my chest. Pressed flat against my sternum, right over my pounding heart. "I think at first you were just doing a job, but now I think you like it too much to stop."
I grabbed her wrist. Held it there. Her delicate pulse fluttered against my fingertips, quick and light. Like a bird.
"You don't know what I like."
"Then tell me."
The challenge hung between us as she lifted her chin defiantly.
Tell her. Tell her you want to pin her against this filthy wall and hike that green dress up around her hips. Tell her you want to drop to your knees and bury your face between her thighsuntil she's shaking. Tell her you want to hear her scream your name in this alley where you scrubbed a dead man's blood off the concrete.
"I like control," I said instead. My voice came out rough, scraped raw. "And you make me feel like I'm losing it."
Her breath caught. I heard it—felt it—the tiny hitch in her rhythm.
"Good," she whispered.
I released her wrist. Stepped back. Put distance between us before I did something we couldn't take back.
"Go home, Raven. And take the front exit from now on."
"No."
"That wasn't a request."
"And I'm not yours to command." She smiled, and it was wicked. Hungry. "Or control. Not yet, anyway."
Not yet.
My cock jerked against my zipper. She had no idea what she was playing with. No idea what I'd do to her if I let the leash slip.
Or hell, maybe she did. Maybe that's why she kept pushing.
"Same time tomorrow," she said. It wasn't a question.
She turned and walked toward the street, her cane unfolding with a snap. Tap. Tap. Step. Her hips swayed with each stride, the emerald fabric clinging to her ass.
I watched her disappear around the corner.
Then I pressed the heel of my hand against my aching cock and bit back another groan.
