"Good."
"Except—"
"I said don't."
I grab my shirt and head for the door. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. I've killed men with these hands. I've done things that would make most people vomit. But nothing, nothing has ever terrified me like the feeling of wanting him.
"You can't run forever."
I stop at the door. Don't turn around.
"Watch me."
"I have been. For six years." His voice is closer than it should be. He's on his feet, moving toward me. "I watched you walk away in that pit, and I've been watching ever since. Keeping track. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For you to stop running."
His hand lands on my shoulder. I spin, grab his wrist, twist his arm behind his back, and pin him face-first against the barn wall. My chest presses against his back. My hips press against his ass. I’m still hard, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my spine.
"I could break your arm." The words come out ragged. "I could snap it right now and you couldn't stop me."
"Do it then."
"Don't fucking test me."
"I've been testing you since I got here." He turns his head, cheek against the rough wood, one dark eye finding mine. "And you keep failing. Or passing. I can't tell which."
My grip tightens on his wrist. He inhales sharply. Pain, or pleasure, or both.
"Tell me to stop," I say.
"No."
"Tell me you don't want this."
"I can't. Because I do." He pushes back against me, deliberate, and the friction makes my vision blur. "I've wanted it since I was nineteen years old, bleeding on concrete, watching you walk away. I didn't understand it then. I do now."
"Understand what?"
"That you didn't spare me out of mercy. You spared me because you recognized something. Someone like you. Someone who wanted out." His free hand reaches back, grips my hip, pulls me closer. "You saw me, Jinx. Really saw me. And it scared the shit out of you."
"Nothing scares me."
"I do." He grinds against me again, and I bite back a groan. "Admit it."
"Fuck you."
"That's the idea."
I release him. Stagger backward. Put as much distance between us as the barn allows.
He turns to face me, leaning against the wall, completely unbothered by the violence I just threatened. His lips are parted. His chest heaves. The outline of his cock is giant against his pants.
"Tomorrow night," he says. "Your brothers finalize the mission briefing. The day after, we leave for Geneva. That gives us thirty-six hours to figure out what this is."
"There's nothing to figure out."
