Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He moves to my ear. “You think this is something you can walk away from,” he whispers. “It’s not.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Then what do you think?”
I think I hate you. And God, I think I want you to kiss me.
“That you’re not telling me everything.”
He lets out a low growl. “Of course I’m not.”
“You knew,” I say. “You knew someone was here.”
“Yes.” He looks around my place again. “Is anything missing?”
“No.”
“They weren’t looking for something you have.”
“No.”
“They were looking at you.”
A chill runs through me. “Not at what I know?”
He pulls me to him, raises his hand once more. I wince, despite myself.
“You’re pushing too far,” he says.
I glare at him. “So are you.”
A pause. I try to steady my breathing.
Then—
“You’re not stopping,” he says.
“No. What are you going to do? Shove me again?”
He slides his hand from my jaw—his touch is oddly comforting—to the back of my neck. He threads his fingers through my hair.
He’s so close. His lips are close to mine. I can feel his breath on my flesh.
“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he says.
“Or I’m going to find something you don’t want me to.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. His hand is still on the back of my neck. He’s bigger than I am. So much stronger. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap my spine like a twig.
His jaw goes rigid.
I keep my gaze trained on his. I will not back down. I won’t. I’ve come too far to—
“Delaney,” he says, quieter now, “you don’t understand what happens if you get this wrong.”
“Then tell me.” I don’t pull away. I don’t break eye contact. I don’t give him anything.
And for a second—a split second when his eyes soften just a bit—I think he might actually level with me.
Instead he drops his gaze to my mouth.
God.
That look.
He pulls me in, and this time he doesn’t stop.
His mouth crashes onto mine.
Harder than before. Less controlled. Like he’s already past the point of restraint.
My body reacts before my mind catches up.
I grip his shirt. Pull him closer.
He moves his hand high on my neck, threads his fingers through my hair again, and pulls.
With his other hand, he cups my breast.
God… My nipples are so hard. So ready. This man… Samson Vexley. He’s not kind. He’s brutal. He gripped me enough to hurt.
And all I want is for him to keep kissing me.
The kiss deepens.
Hot.
Demanding.
And for a moment everything else disappears. My apartment. The search. The violation. Victor Halstead. My research. The danger.
All of it.
Until he breaks the kiss abruptly.
He takes in a deep breath. Then another as he locks his gaze onto mine. “This is what happens,” he says quietly.
My pulse is racing. “This? A kiss?”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing, Delaney?” His voice is a growl. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Fire doesn’t scare me.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “It should.”
“It doesn’t. So show me the rest.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Then how does it work?”
“You stop,” he says.
“No.”
His eyes darken. “Then you deal with what comes next.”
“Good.”
He shakes his head. “You think you can handle what’s coming. You’re wrong.” He looks around the apartment once more. “Don’t leave here tonight.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“It is now. Be sure to lock the door.”
“I always do.”
“Tonight you check it twice.” He steps toward the door and then leaves.
I stand there, breathing uneven, my lips still tingling, my body still keyed up.
Something was opened that night.
Or something was sealed.
And Samson Vexley is standing right in the middle of it.
And now…so am I.
15
SAMSON
I leave her apartment because staying would be the worst thing I could do.
The problem?
I want to stay. I want to stay and grab her, rip her clothes off, and fuck her until morning. Her taste is still in my mouth when I step into the corridor. Her fragrance clings to my shirt. I can still feel the wall at her back, the line of her body, the way she tried to resist even while heat flashed through her eyes.
Most women shrink from me.
Delaney Cross steps closer.
She doesn’t know when to stop. That should make her foolish. Instead, it makes her dangerous.
And irresistible.
I stalk down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. My body is too keyed up for stillness. Too full of something that feels like fury but isn’t. Fury is useful.
This is not.
By the time I hit the street, my jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it. I head for my car, unlock it, slide behind the wheel, and shut the door with more force than necessary.
Then I sit there.
I don’t start the engine.
I just sit with both hands braced on the steering wheel and my pulse still hammering like I’ve come out of a fight I didn’t win.
That’s the truth of it.
I didn’t win up there.
I warned her. I told her to stop. I told her she had no idea what she’d stepped into.