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He needed to get his ass back in his seat.
He needed to get his mouth off Alina. For now.
Slowly, he did. He pulled away. Retreated back to his seat. Buckled the belt. But his gaze stayed on her. Every second. And he said, “You’re mine.”
Because he’d given her a chance. He’d tried to do one final, good thing.
But the plane was landing.
The darkness was calling.
It was almost time for her to see who he really was.
***
It was the nicest hotel in town. The one with the best security. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t saying much. But the DA had made sure that uniform cops were stationed downstairs. One of Midas’s conditions for coming to the meeting. Once he’d realized that Alina wasn’t going to be dissuaded from accompanying him, he’d taken steps to ensure her safety.
But who will protect her from me?
He shut the door to their room. Made sure to secure all the locks. He dropped their bags near his feet. Alina had already walked toward the bed. Bed as in singular. One big, king bed. He wondered if this might be the point where she’d lose her nerve. Maybe the adrenaline had worn off for her, and she’d crash.
It hadn’t worn off for him. Desire still held him on a knife’s edge of savage need. He wanted to strip her clothes off, throw her on the bed, and devour her.
Right, because that was how you handled a woman’s first time.
But, unfortunately, he didn’t have a whole lot of care left in him. His control was razor thin. He hated this town. Hated facing his past.
Hated what he feared lurked deep inside of himself.
What if I’m more like him than I want to be?
Alina had hit too close to an uncomfortable truth on the plane. She’d said that Midas’s father killed while Midas protected. Midas had gotten into the bodyguard business because he wanted to be the opposite of his father. But what she didn’t get was that he needed an outlet for the violence that breathed in him.
When you were the biggest one in the room, other people were always looking to prove something. They wanted to go against you. To challenge you. To take you down. He’d been fighting since he was thirteen years old.
It was his life.
Alina turned toward him. She hadn’t touched him, not yet. Not when they’d disembarked from the plane or when they’d walked through the quiet airport. The car ride over to the hotel had been completed in silence. Tension had churned in the air between them.
Perhaps she’d changed her mind about him. About them.
Alina’s hands went to the hem of her shirt. She pulled the blouse over her head and dropped it to the floor.
So, ah, she hadn’t changed her mind.
She kicked away her shoes. Did a little hop and ditched her socks. He watched her pull in a deep breath, then she stripped off her jeans. She was left in her underwear.
Take them off, sweetheart.
She didn’t.
“It’s awkward for me.” She gestured between them. “When you have on all your clothes, and I’m naked.”
Oh, he could fix that. He tore off his shirt. Discarded his shoes. Stripped completely in about three seconds flat.
“Oh.” Soft. “That was fast.” Her gaze slid over him. First his shoulders. Then his chest. Down his abs.
Then to the dick that bobbed eagerly toward her. “Less awkward?” he asked.
