Page 8 of Don't Look

He’s wrong. But I can’t tell him that because the pressure inside me is building to a fever pitch. There’s a twinge of discomfort, but it’s miniscule compared to the enjoyment I get when Mick tickles a mysterious spot inside of me, his thumb beginning a rough fondle of my clit. Oh my Lord. My legs begin to shake, blood rushing to my head as if through a broken dam. What is happening to me?

“Mick. Mick.”

Ink-blue eyes crawl over me in wonder and lust. “No fucking way,” he breathes. “Got a cunt so tight I can’t even twist my finger, but she’s dripping wet and bucking against me for another one. There’s nothing like you, Hailey. Nothing.”

His head drops to take one of my nipples into his mouth, pulling long and hard…and I leave the planet. I just leave it. Something inside me gives way and I thrash on Mick’s lap, my thighs sliding together and apart while the flesh between them squeezes. Squeezes. Mick continues to draw his finger in and out of me slowly, his tongue curling around my nipples in turn, tugging and sucking them. It’s the most incredible moment of my life, this absolute high. I’m flying. But I’m also grounded by this man who touches me with such reverence and care.

Underneath my bottom, Mick’s hips are restless and his breathing is shallow, but he doesn’t rip off my shorts, like he said he wanted. No, his lips move in a slow count to ten, his nostrils flaring. And all the while, he holds me close and rocks me. Minutes later, my limbs are hanging like limp noodles, but my heartbeat has finally gone back to normal. I open my eyes to find Mick studying me with an intense expression.

“No one will ever lock you up again. I’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life, Goldie.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “That starts by getting you home safe. Getting you warm and fed…and right back on my lap where you belong. Okay?”

I know he’s not going to accept any other answer from me besides yes. I want so badly to have the freedom to say yes and mean it. To stay with this man. But it’s fantasy, to think I could live openly with my father’s neighbor. Ivan Stepanov would find us in the farthest reaches of Siberia, let alone right across the canyon. Maybe I can go home with Mick just for one night, though? My father is out of town, so he won’t know I’m missing. I could be back in my tower before he arrives home tomorrow. Mick will never know I’m behind the tinted window a football field away. And I’ll have a whole night with Mick to remember. To keep me company in my solitude.

I’ve taken so long to answer, Mick’s eyebrows are drawing together. “Hailey.”

“Yes,” I blurt, wings flapping in my chest. “Bring me home.”

Mick smiles and shakes his head, like he can’t believe it. “Crawl into the front seat and stay there.” He kisses me hard on the mouth. Twice. A third time. “I’ll run back in and pay for the drinks.”

“Okay.”

We fix my clothing and with one last, long look, Mick leaves the car—engaging the lock before closing the door behind him—and disappears into the bar. I climb into the front passenger seat, the black leather cool and inviting on my flushed skin. I’m not sure why I pop open the glove compartment. Maybe I’m just curious what a man like Mick finds important enough to keep with him when he leaves the house. Turns out, the answer is…a badge and a gun.

Panic closes in on me from all sides.

Fed. Mick is a fed.

Does he know I’m Ivan Stepanov’s daughter? Is that why he’s showing so much interest in me? No…no, I pursued him to the bar. On top of that, I haven’t been allowed in public since I was a child. There’s no chance he would recognize me if I’d ended up on law enforcement’s radar. Plus, he couldn’t have been faking. I felt every touch, kiss, word in my bones. They were genuine. Mick is genuine.

I cross off the possibility that Mick knows I’m Stepanov’s daughter and focus on the more real, more terrifying reality. If I’m seen with a fed, my life is as good as over. My father would never believe in the coincidence and I know too much. I know enough to put him away forever. Not that I’d get the chance. I’d be dead first.

Tears fill my eyes as I glance back at the bar. I have to get out of here. If I tell Mick the truth, he’ll either insist on protecting me or ask me to provide evidence against my father. Both of those options end with me dead—and Mick, too.

The claws of fear sink deeper into my neck at that possibility. At this big, protective man being hurt because of me. We can’t be seen together. I have to get away—

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