In my rush to get him to make a mistake…I may also trip myself up.
Which I can’t let happen.
I won’t. He’s horrible and evil, and I don’t care how attractive he is or how my body reacts to his presence or his touch.
I’m going to control myself the way he can’t, and when he slips up, I’ll make a move.
So, to keep my cool, I luxuriate in the shower. Instead of minding the wolf by the door, I close my eyes and bask in the warm spray and steam.
I ignore how his unguarded attraction to me unravels my focus like a dog ripping up carpet threads.
I squeeze my legs together against the antsy sensation in my clit, angling away from Brody and giving him a full view of my backside while I stand beneath the showerhead and comb through my doused, stringy hair.
Dark excitement bounces through my body as I lather up with the sandalwood soap once, twice, three times…
Something about the process of taking a shower borders on meditative. A study in self-destructive seduction.
As a bonus, it’samazingto finally rid myself of the grime and blood and dust. By the time the finale comes, I nearly feel like myself again.
When I turn off the water and step out of the shower, naked and soaking, he doesn’t have to know that I’m wet between my thighs too. Thank you, female biology.
Brody hasn’t left his perch. He just stares, emotions and impulses flitting through his gaze too quickly for me to decipher.
My clothes lie in a crumpled pile on the floor not far from his feet.
On the wall to his right, a fresh towel hangs folded over the bar.
I glide toward the towel bar. Before I can grab the plush fabric, though, Brody pushes off the wall and blocks my path.
I freeze.
Chapter 17
Brody
I snatch the towel off the bar.
I tell myself I want her vulnerable and exposed, but if I’m being honest, I’m not ready to lose the sight of her naked body just yet.
She eyes me with suspicion.
I toss her towel over my shoulder. “You’re not being honest with me.”
Unimpressed, Trinity folds her arms, covering those perfect breasts. She shivers in the cool bathroom air, and goosebumps pimple her arms and legs.
“I’ve been running the math.” I hold her gaze. “Like I said before, I recognized some of those Russians who cornered us at the construction site. They don’t do freelance. They’re all Bratva business. Again, likely Kruschev’s guys. Question is, what are they doing here? A world away from home, risking a war with two Irish families? For what?”
Why is Andrei Kruschev pursuing Trinity Gallagher? Does she know the answer, or is she really as clueless as she claims?
I deliberately divert my attention to the water droplets gliding between her breasts before once again meeting her eyes.
I meant for the assessment to be invasive. Claiming.
But Trinity’s unfazed by my scrutiny.
Maybe that’s exactly what she wants.
“How should I know?” Trinity tosses her head, her wet hair sliding across her shoulders. “It doesn’t make sense that any of you pricks are after me in the first place.”
