Page 73 of Vicious Temptation

He lifts his hand slowly, giving me time to move away, but again I don’t. The backs of his fingers skim the platinum streak in my hair before he gently traces it.

“This,” he murmurs. “I like this. It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks for the stamp of approval.”

We smile at the exact same time, and that might be the most dangerous part of all this. He’s so damn easy to talk to, charming without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were just an asshole.

He’s a cop, for fuck’s sake. The least he could do is act like one.

But he stands here, looking at me, his curls falling over his forehead, his dark eyes lingering on mine with an interest he isn’t even trying to hide. I know right then that if I stay this close for even one more second, I’m going to do something incredibly stupid.

So I reach behind me, turn the knob, and slip into the room.

I head straight for Hannibal’s enclosure. He’s curled beneath one of his hides, his thick body coiled lazily as I press my palm against the glass, feeling the faint vibration of the filter beneath my skin. My eyes close for a moment as soft rock hums from a speaker tucked near the shelves, low enough that I can still hear the buzzing of the heat lamps.

“A ball python,” Thiago says from beside me.

“Yeah.” A small smile pulls at my lips. “He’s a good boy. Likes being held and wandering around sometimes.”

Thiago’s attention then shifts to the second enclosure across the room, darker, with heavy rockwork and twisted driftwood arranged throughout.

“Why aren’t they together?”

“That would be a very stressful and ultimately fatal situation for him.”

“Why?” Thiago drags out the word, one eyebrow lifting with mounting suspicion.

“Because Clarice is a Mexican cantil,” I explain. “A pit viper. She’s highly venomous and extremely aggressive.”

“That doesn’t sound legal.” He takes a noticeably more cautious step toward her enclosure. “Why would you even have this?”

“Reason number infinity why I should never befriend a cop.”

He glances at me over his shoulder, a grin on his face. “So you’re saying we’re friends.”

“I absolutely did not say that.”

I move closer to Clarice’s enclosure. She’s coiled beside a flat stone under the heat lamp, her tongue flicking in the air.

“She’s special to me,” I say. “She was injured when I found her on a trip, so I had her patched up. She fought like hell the whole time.” I watch her for another moment, then add, “Maybe it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let her go after that.”

My eyes linger on the snake. “She reminded me a lot of myself.”

The words are already out there, far more personal than anything I meant to share with him. I immediately question why the hell I gave him that much, but when I glance over, Thiago isn’t looking at me. He’s staring at Clarice, watching how she watches him right back.

“I get that,” he says.

There’s a sincerity in his voice that I wasn’t expecting. I don’t know how he could possibly understand me when he barely knows me.

“Is that the tattoo you have?”

I glance down, then lift the hem of my shirt and tug my waistband lower to expose the ink. A rough sound escapes him, and I pretend I don’t hear it.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “She was one of my first pieces.”

Thiago reaches toward me slowly. Again I don’t pull away.

His fingertips brush along the tattoo, tracing its outline with enough care that every inch of skin beneath his touch feels suddenly sensitive. When I lift my head, he’s no longer looking at the ink. His eyes meet mine, and the question in them is unmistakable.