I tilt my head a little. “No,” I murmur. “You gave me a choice, and I chose this.” Silence stretches between us. “How is that not asking me to stay? Are you going to pretend none of this happened? That you didn’t just save my life?” Anger sweeps over me as I stop what I’m doing, staring at him, daring him to deny it.
“You don’t understand what you’re stepping into,” he says sharply and a little pissed.
“Then explain it to me.”
“I’m trying to keep this from turning into something it shouldn’t become.” His words hit me with an edge that ignites the fire raging in me more.
“Something it shouldn’t?” I repeat. “Or something you can’t handle? Stop acting like this doesn’t matter,” I say.
“It doesn’t," he replies, and I can’t stop myself as I slap him hard across the face. The second it happens, everything goes still. He shoves me hard against the cold tile wall, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them, his words laced with a tone I’ve never heard him use before.
“You walked in here knowing exactly what you were doing,” he says quietly. I go to slap him again, but he catches my wrist before I can.
“You didn’t stop me.” His free hand glides along my body, exploring.
“No,” he admits before he devours my mouth. His cock slams into me without warning, and I’m shoved up the wall, the tiles scratching against my back as he holds me still. His thrusts are punishing, and his thumb presses against the bundle of nerves and it sends shockwaves of pleasure exploding from me. He curses as he finishes right behind me and then gently sets me down on my feet. He kisses my neck ever so softly before pulling out, and turning to wash, leaving me feeling cold and used.
My mind races as I watch him wash himself before turning back to me and doing the same. He's careful and precise, probably feeling bad about how rough he was with me. As if confirming my thoughts, he speaks. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he says finally, his voice low.
“It’s okay,” I reply. “It was nice.”
He chuckles, reaching for the soap without another word. His movements are slow and gentle as he runs the sponge over my body, making sure every inch of me is covered with suds. “None of this was supposed to happen,” he says, almost to himself. Iwatch him as he continues to suds me up, trying to read the expression on his face the way he reads mine.
“And now?” I whisper.
His hands still for a split second before they leave my body. His eyes find mine, and he pulls me to step under the water, rinsing away the soap. “And now I can’t stop it.” He searches my eyes, forehead crinkling ever so slightly, as if he can’t read me for the first time. “I don’t want it to,” he adds, kissing me gently.I smile softly at him, reminiscing in his honesty, because it’s not something he would say unless it truly did matter.
He holds me closer to him. “I’m feeling things I shouldn’t,” he admits. I chuckle at the feeling of his cock already semi-hard again, as it presses against my stomach. “I’m serious. Things I’ve never…” He stops himself.
“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, too,” I admit as well. He reaches for a towel, stepping out first and wrapping it around his waist before grabbing another wrapping it around me. This moment feels personal. Real. Intimate in a way that’s different than sex. I’ve never seen him like this. When he is done drying me off, he doesn’t step away. Instead, he drops the towel to the floor and lifts me like it’s effortless and I weigh nothing. He carries me into the bedroom without a word, setting me down on the bed and kissing me with a passion that consumes my very soul.
CHAPTER 31
Ledgar
Payson issound asleep next to me, my hand draped over her as I watch the way her fingers curl loosely against the pillow. She doesn’t move when I slowly pull my arm back, careful not to wake her. I lean in gently, softly pressing my lips to her forehead. The longer I stay here lying next to her, the harder things tend to become. Slowly, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, keeping my steps light as I cross the room to the closet. I dress quickly and head for the door. I pause at the bedroom doorway, turning back one more time to look at her. As I left her, the door closes ever so softly behind me.
My mind thinks back to how close she came. The attack wasn’t random. Nor sloppy. It was carefully thought out. And I know exactly who thinks like that, and who happened to know Payson was here. I don’t need to confirm it, but I do anyway. I type out a single message to Vivian.
Me: MY OFFICE. NOW.
She doesn’t ask why, doesn’t even reply. When I walk in, she’s already there, standing over by the windows. She doesn’t acknowledge me immediately, just waits. Testing me no doubt. I close the door behind me, locking it. “You sent them,” I say, no time to waste.
Vivian slowly turns her head just enough I can see the snide smirk on her lips as she looks at me over her shoulder. “You’ll have to be more specific.” Her tone is light, controlled, unbothered by my accusation.
“The men who tried to harm a certain relative of yours.” She doesn’t look away.
“You have no proof,” she shrugs.
I take a step forward, toward her, and she turns fully facing me. She may act like I don’t intimidate her, but I know better. “I was there,” I add, keeping my voice even. “I saw how they moved. How they followed everything according to plan, as if they knew where she would be, and when.”
Vivian studies me, something sharper settling behind her expression now. She sighs. “You took care of it?” he says, a silent question.
“Yes.”
“Yet you still felt the need to summon me in here at this time of night,” she says. “Are you sure there wasn’t something else on your mind?” She reaches out to touch me, and I grab her wrist harshly.
“Keep your filthy hands off me,” I spit.
