Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Closer,” I say.
“Why?”
I smile. “You need me to explain the birds and the bees to you?”
“I need you to tell me the truth.”
“What truth would you like?” I ask. “That I want you? Fine. I want you. That I don’t trust you? I don’t. That I’m using the fact that you want me because I’d be an idiot not to? Sure. I’m doing that too.”
His expression changes.
I don’t know what I expect.
Anger, maybe. Revulsion. Disappointment.
Instead, he looks almost relieved. “You admit it.”
I lift my chin. “I’m not ashamed.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Good.”
That throws me. “Good?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“You’re not offended?”
“Should I be?”
I cross my arms. “I just told you I’m manipulating you.”
“You told me you’re trying to survive.”
My throat tightens.
No.
I don’t want that.
I don’t want understanding from him. I don’t want him looking at me like he can see the scared parts I shoved down and buried under defiance.
I want desire.
I know how to handle desire.
So I rake my gaze over his body, taking my time. “Are you going to make me survive alone?”
His eyes darken. “No.” He reaches the side of the bed but doesn’t touch me.
I hate him a little for that.
I love him a little for that.
No.
Not love.
He stands there, beautiful in the lamplight. His muscles are twitching and he’s almost wincing. It’s clear he wants to touch me.
But the thought doesn’t satisfy me the way it should. Despite everything, I don’t just want to use him.
“Take off your shirt,” I say.
He grips the back of his collar and pulls the shirt over his head.
My breath catches.
I’ve seen attractive men before. I’ve slept with attractive men before. A hard chest and broad shoulders shouldn’t be enough to ignite my flesh.
But Cruz is not pretty in a polished way. One scar runs diagonally across his chest, right over his left nipple. Another, clearly from a gunshot wound, sits above the other. A faint bruise shadows one rib. His body looks like it has taken violence and given it back.
I push myself up onto my knees on the bed, bringing us closer to eye level. I reach for him.
He catches my wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop me.
I look down at his fingers around me. “Careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
I narrow my eyes. “That sounds like a warning.”
“It is.”
“I’m naked on a bed and you’re warning me?”
He sears his gaze into mine for a moment before replying, “Yes.”
“About what?”
“About me.”
A shiver moves through me before I can hide it.
“Don’t pretend,” he says.
My mouth goes dry. “I’m not pretending.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve made it clear, and you’re good at it, Robin.”
“I said I’m not.”
He loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. “Then say you want me because you want me. Not because you think it keeps me close. Not because you think it keeps you safe. Not because you’re afraid I’ll walk out that door and give you back to Vega.”
I sigh. I do want him. More than my next breath, to be honest. But I don’t know what to do with this version of him. The man who won’t let me reduce myself to a bargain.
I don’t know whether to trust him. But I can’t deny the hunger pulsing through my veins. For him.
“I want you,” I say. “I want you because I want you. I also want you because I need you close. Two things can be true at once.”
He releases my wrist, lifts his hand to my face, but stops before touching me. “You’re allowed to want things without turning them into weapons.”
I swallow. “Shows what you know.”
“Maybe nothing.”
“Definitely nothing.”
His mouth curves. It’s barely a smile. “Then I’ll show you what I know.”
Oh hell no.
I’m supposed to be the one with the upper hand here. I’m naked. He’s half-dressed. I invited him over. I set the pace. I have the ball in my court, damn it.
But then he says something like that in that low, rough voice, and I want to hand him the ball just to see what he’ll do with it.
No.
Absolutely not.
I lean forward and press my mouth to his chest.
He gasps.
Good.
I kiss the warm skin over his heart. He slides his fingers into my damp hair. He doesn’t pull. He just holds.
I drag my mouth lower.
“Robin.”
I look up at him. “Yes?”
“Don’t start something you don’t want to finish.”
A laugh slips out of me. “Seems I’ve heard those words before.” I drop my eyes to his crotch. “No worries. I always finish what I start.”
His eyes flare. I ready myself for him to let go. But instead of pushing me back onto the bed, he cups my jaw and tilts my face up.
“Last chance,” he says.
I meet his gaze, look into the dark fire in his eyes.
He bends and kisses me.
Not like last time.
Not at first.
This kiss is slower. Deeper. Like he’s giving me every chance to pull back.
I don’t. Instead I grab him by the shoulders and pull him down with me.