Dan isn’t just the man I once loved. He’s a man with secrets. And I have no idea what they are.
29
DAN
She’s like a fucking dog with a bone and won’t let it go.
I close her front door and lock it, setting the alarm. The soft beep echoes through the hall, but it does nothing to drown out her temper, or the fire in my belly.
“I think there’s been enough secrets between us, don’t you?” She throws her purse on the kitchen counter and kicks off her shoes, her tone clipped, her eyes sharp like laser-cut diamonds.
“Funny that the secrets between us were of your doing.” I match her hard stare but keep my voice low and controlled despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
She clenches her fists at her sides, her lips parting as if she’s about to argue—no, fight. And fuck, I love it when she fights.
“Ugh. You’re so annoying. You know that?”
I sneer, stepping closer, close enough that I can hear the sharp inhale of her breath. “So you keep telling me.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her wide hip cocked, eyes full of heat. “What was on that ID, Dan?”
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders. “Let it go, Rose.”
“Not happening.” She tilts her chin up, defiant as ever. “What are you? A cop? Military? A bloody spy?”
I huff out a laugh. “A spy? That’s what you think?”
She shrugs, but there’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You don’t exactly scream ‘normal’ anymore. You’re different. Sharper. You take charge, you don’t hesitate, and people back down the second you flash that ID. You’re not just some guy who?—”
I grab her waist and tug her against me, forcing a startled gasp from her lips. “Not just some guy who what?” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear.
She stiffens, then glares up at me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Distract me with… with this.” She gestures between us, but her hands tremble slightly, betraying her.
I slide a hand up her back, threading my fingers into her hair. “This?” I tug just enough to make her tilt her head back, exposing her throat, making her pulse hammer against her skin. “I thought you missed this.”
Her breath shudders. “That’s not the point.” I see the flicker in her eyes—a war between longing and pride—and my chest tightens, but I keep my grip firm, because I want her to know that no matter how much she fights me, she wants this too, even if she won’t admit it to herself.
“The point,” I murmur, my lips hovering over the pulse hammering beneath her skin, “is that you want answers.”
“Yes.”
“And I want you.”
Her lips part, her pupils blown wide. “Dan?—”
I brush my mouth against hers, teasing, barely a kiss. She sways towards me, her resolve cracking. I feel it in the way she grips my t-shirt, the way her body leans in despite the fight still raging in her eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” I challenge, my lips ghosting along her jaw. “If you really want to keep talking, tell me to stop.”
She sucks in a sharp breath but says nothing.
I smile against her skin. “That’s what I thought.” I slide my hands lower, over the curve of her hips, gripping tight before lifting her off the ground. She yelps, her legs instinctively wrapping around me, but she doesn’t stop fighting.
“This is manipulation,” she huffs, her hands fisting in my hair.
