I’m trying to put her on the spot, so why do I feel as though I’ve hit myself with friendly fire?
Trinity stays still, staring at me with wide green eyes.
Like she’s peering directly into a floodlight. Unmoving. Silent.
Vulnerable.
“Why did your family send you away when you were a kid?” The questions fall from my lips, one after the other. “What happened?”
I know I won’t get any answers.
The whole purpose of this exercise is to destabilize her. Throw her off balance the same way she threw me.
I almost lost my cool entirely. If I was that close, I know I can get under her skin too.
If some helpful morsel of information should slip out in the process, great.
And if I should get some hot sex out of this infuriating hostage of mine, that’s just icing on the cake.
I run my hands down her shoulders, moving inward over the rise of her breasts. My knuckles scrape over her hardened nipples?—
“Is this how you pass your days, Brody?” The exacting edge in her tone freezes me in place. “When you’re not acting like Declan’s loyal dog, when you’re not murdering, torturing, or committing crimes, this is what you do? Groom young women for your future debauchery?”
Exactly what kind of man are you?
Why do pits of shame crack open on the floor of my gut?
No.She’s notgoing to turn the tables on me. Not this time.
“Why no friends, Trinity?” I keep going, reaching down until the fingertips of both hands come to rest on the front of her thighs and begin trailing in and up, up. Everywhere we touch, electricity crawls over my skin. “Why no boyfriends?”
“What makes you think I’m interested in men at all?” Her tone remains even and detached, like this conversation is barely about her.
I know I’ve got her on the ropes, though.
She can’t hold my gaze for more than a few milliseconds at a time.
While she looks cool and calm, her body betrays her. Dark eyes. Blown pupils. Heaving chest. Twitching muscles.
My hand circles her cute little cunt, tangling gently in the wiry reddish hairs. This time, she full-on flinches at my caress.
My pulse leaps with her every motion, each muscle in my body ready to pounce on her at a moment’s notice.
Our eyes lock. We’re both actively engaged in this naked showdown.
With my heart thundering in my chest, my voice barely climbs above a whisper. “Your family. Why weren't they at your graduation? Why didn’t they want you?”
Trinity jerks back as if I struck her.
With a sharp toss of her arm, she bats my hands away and pivots without giving me the satisfaction of her broken expression.
Instead, she marches to the vanity on the left side of the room, lifts the little stool, and chucks the piece of furniture right at my face.
Instinctively, I raise my arms to block the hit, grunting as pain lances my muscles.
The upended stool clatters to the floor.
Well, shit. Guess I struck a nerve.
