Page 25 of Shark’s Pride

“Confession?” I felt my brows jump with my tone. “About…what?”

“That I didn’t send you all the gifts this week for purely noble reasons.” He took his turn at the extended inhale, again raising my awareness of how deeply joined our bodies still were. Holy shit. Did the man have a flaccid mode? “They were also my way of keeping tabs on you.”

Well, there was the key for wanting him out of me as fast as possible.

“Excuse me?”

“Abbi—”

“Did you seriously say ‘tabs’?”

He rose, peeled off the condom, and lobbed it into the trash can next to the nightstand. When he returned to the bed in a confident descent, I dropped my jaw. How was he so unaffected about what he’d just told me?

“You asked for space.” He said it as if declaring the earth was round. “And I gave it to you the best way I could, but—”

“You found it necessary to spy on me regardless?” I used my heels to punch my body back against the headboard.

He expelled a heavy huff. “I wasn’t spying.”

“Right. ‘Keeping tabs.’ There’s such a big difference there.”

His nostrils flared. “In this case, yes,” he gritted. “In case you don’t remember, someone attempted to implicate me in what would’ve been a second woman’s death. Less than ten days before that, I was flat on my back in the ER due to being purposely poisoned.” He scooted over, positioning himself right in front of me. His stare was nearly a glare, and he wasn’t giving me an inch of aversion from it. “I haven’t had a chance to fill you in on the developments of the last week yet…but let’s say that in light of those, the deliveries were the less invasive choice of an action plan.”

I swallowed. Pretty damn hard. “Developments?” I repeated, forcing myself not to stammer. “What kind of developments?”

He reached for my hands. I willingly let him cradle them. As he lifted his head, I prayed there’d be a gotcha smirk across his face. With his lips still set in a firm line, he supplied, “Nothing as crazy as the Cinnamon suicide-note-that-wasn’t, but nothing I can’t ignore either.”

He finished by shaking his head and sighing.

“It’s mostly been prank phone calls; people telling Terryn they’re from City Hall or calling themselves one of my trusted associates, only to play strange music on the line once I picked up.”

I sat up straighter. “Strange music?” I demanded. “Like what?”

With a new grimace, Bas rolled his shoulders. “Like…love songs, I guess,” he finally responded. “Not stuff I’m familiar with.”

I studied him carefully. “And this stuff…in these ‘prank phone calls’ talked about being in love?”

He shrugged again. The move was tighter now, betraying his frustration. “Yeah. Honestly, I never listen for long.”

I bit my lower lip. “So do you think it’s all related? The calls…the poisoning…the bogus suicide note?” Which was still hitting me as the creepiest and most confusing act of them all. “Or maybe it’s part of Terryn’s weird little crush, and she’s hoping to brighten your day from the other room.”

I swore Bas turned an appropriate shade of green before he grabbed me by the waist and hauled me flat across the comforter again. At once, he flattened his whole body over mine again. The force of his ire joined the size of his body to lord over my senses. His snarl took over the inches between our faces.

“That’s not a subject to joke about, Abbigail.”

“Sorry.” I stroked my knuckles across his jaw. “I really am.”

He brushed his lips across the end of my nose. “I know.”

“My sense of humor is a strange and dark thing sometimes.”

“Strange. Dark.” His eyes gained velvety seduction. “Like me.”

“Hmmm,” I purred. “I can’t wait to learn more, then.”

“But you can’t do that if you don’t stay over.”

“Ohhh. Well played once again, Mr. Shark.”