She took the decision right out of his hands, and he was powerless to stop her, contain her, control her. Part of him was terrified, part of him was seduced, and part of him was that small, aching boy who had never known one moment of comfort from anyone…until her.
When her lips brushed his, she whispered, softly, achingly, “Oh my God.” Then she was pressing harder, and he tried to resist. He tried so hard, keeping himself immobile with a kind of knife-edged threat that she should feel, but it was as if she wasn’t afraid of him. Again, what was he supposed to do when he couldn’t intimidate her, resist her, or do the decent thing and walk away?
It took all the strength he had to restrain the force inside him. He thought about touching her, afraid she might vanish in his hands, just a moment, a skim of contact when what he wished was to crush her to him, a brush of his fingers outlining her shape, the curves beneath her breasts, the swell of her hips. He was so hot and hard that he was afraid he would turn into a savage beast to her radiant beauty.
“I’m nothing but a dangerous Pandora’s Box, Blair,” he said fiercely. His own muscles were tense in a body now unfamiliar to him, as if he were moving within heavy armor.
She looked up at him like he wasn’t just warning her, like he wasn’t a powder keg and she, the spark, like she knew what lurked in him, her confidence as sexy as everything else about her. Her honesty sent him into an even bigger tailspin. “Who isn’t, Kelly?”
His lips grazed hers. A heaviness weighted him, an overwhelming pressure. Mistakes rolled through him like blood, marking him with foolishness he’d never allowed. There was what he had forged of his mind and his body. He couldn’t do this. It was destruction.
With a lifetime of seduction, he didn’t know how to kiss this woman. He stood, holding her, tasting her, feeling her tenderness like a knife at his throat, knowing himself part of the shadows in his black tacticals.
He doubted she could even see him for who he really was. Then her words shattered even that illusion. “Who doesn’t have dark secrets that are hidden so deep we pretend they don’t exist when we know they dictate our every move.”
He knew what women wanted…his skin, his muscles, his dick. He knew how to seduce, how to be the kind of bastard that made women pant. He knew how to make himself a catalyst, press his influence, a controlled force that would overcome her equilibrium and take what his body craved. When the urges got too overwhelming, and his hands didn’t do the trick, he would find women willing, interested in just the shallow, the skin deep. He used his beauty the same way they used his body.
But with Blair…with this gem, he didn’t want to offer that crass part of himself. It wouldn’t be enough, not nearly enough. For the first time, he wanted to give her all of him, in many ways. In the ways that mattered, that counted. He just wished he knew how to do that.
His voice was low and rough. He had anarchy inside him. “Stop fucking talking,” he whispered. “Go to bed. Get away from me.” But his will and his action split apart from one another. He stood planted, with a lifetime of endurance fracturing. “Oh, geezus.” He cupped her cheeks, bent his head to her mouth. “You’re madness.”
He didn’t let her go. He gripped his arm across the small of her back, pulling her to him. The other hand going into her hair, displacing the elastic binding the glossy strands, and as it slipped free, the heavy mass cascaded over his hands. Excitement flooded him. He had imagined it that way when first he’d seen her in that hallway, while he was trying desperately to save them all from the cartel. He was breathing her in the same way, but the tactile feel of her was much better than just a caress with his gaze. He exerted a subtle pressure, compelling her backward toward the wall. She yielded, wavering and easy to control, her lack of resistance telling him that she didn’t even recognize the leverage that directed her.
When her back hit the wall, his expertise ended. Not his hunger, not his visions, not the sensation of her pressed between his body and plaster as his groin braced hard against her hips. He was breathing deeply, unevenly, ungoverned in his physical action, on the brink of a fierce and all-consuming void. He held himself savagely in check, resting his forehead against the curve of her throat.
“Break,” Iceman’s voice cracked through the sensual fog in his head. He wanted to lash out savagely, strangle the man, but he pushed off her so fast in a motion that twisted his sore waist. He sucked in a hard breath. He turned his back to her.
Ice came through the door like a blizzard. “What the fuck are you—” His words halted, those pale eyes assessing the situation. Shirtless, open cream on the table. His eyes flicked to Blair, who was just standing there as if she was caught in the glacial stare and immediately got hypothermia. He cleared his throat. “Your ass needs to be in bed. Now.” His gaze shifted to Blair. “Thank you for attending to him. It’s appreciated.”
“My pleasure, Dad.”
Ice’s rare smile flashed. He did that a lot around Blair, and his boss wasn’t exactly a people person.
“I have to finish?—”
“I’ll do it,” Blair said quickly.
Breakneck turned to look at her, something in him crying out uncle. She was going to touch his weapons, clean them for him.
“He’s very particular,” Ice offered, glancing at Breakneck.
She met his gaze, lifted her chin, blew out a breath. “I’m very good at handling dangerous things.”
Breakneck gripped the edge of the table, and Ice cleared his throat again. Breakneck’s eyes narrowed. Was she taunting him?
Ice offered, “I can?—”
“Let her, Ice.”
This time, Iceman’s eyes widened. It wasn’t easy to surprise his boss. He tilted his head, gave Blair one of those rare, approving glances, then said, “Grab the water and the painkillers. Kodiak’s going to be disappointed his job was stolen, but he’ll get over it.”
Breakneck grabbed his shirt, his hands trembling. Again, he was going to chalk it up to dehydration, adrenaline, anything but Blair and how much he wanted to kiss her, for real this time.
He left the room, the sound of Ice’s voice lost in the distance.
When he came out, he growled. “What is going on, junior?”
“Nothing.” Breakneck said. “She was being kind.”
