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“All right,” I say, steeling myself for a question I’m not willing to answer now.
“Wasn’t Savage some sort of assassin?”
“A mercenary and yes, an assassin.”
“And he’s been with Walker how long?” she asks.
“A few years longer than me,” I say cautiously. “Why?”
“If he’s with Walker, why do you believe Walker will turn their backs on you after you testify? Because you do. I know you do.”
I cup her face, regret in my answer, I don’t hide. “The same reason I know you will. I had to play the role. I had to let people get hurt.”
Her hand covers my hand on her face. “I let people get hurt by helping bad people stay out of jail. I’m not going to turn my back on you. I’m not. Try me.”
“I can’t do that, not without the immunity deal.”
She pulls back to look at me, a stab of pain in her stare. “Do you think I’d use what you tell me tonight against you? Do you really think that of me?”
“I think you’re a good person, even if you question that. But you have a legal obligation to expose what you know. I’m not going to compromise you in that way.”
“You have immunity.”
“For reasonable justified actions. I went beyond that, Pri.”
“Do you think guilt is controlling you, even effecting your judgment?”
“No.” I tangle fingers into her tousled dark hair and pull her mouth to mine. “We aren’t having this conversation right now. I’m not ready for you to hate me.”
“I’m not going to hate you.”
“And yet, you will.” I brush my lips over hers and whisper, “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
“Maybe I’ll save you,” she answers. “Maybe we’ll save each other.”
Or maybe I’ll destroy you, I think, but still my mouth closes down on her mouth, and the instant our tongues collide, there’s a shift in the air, hunger spiking between us, demanding and ferocious in its need. The sweet taste of her is now my new obsession and I can’t get enough.
We’re all over each other, tugging at clothes, shifting and moving. There is no slow burn, not this night, not this time. There is just this sense of standing on the edge of a world that is no longer round, and we are falling, crashing, into each other. When we’re naked, and she’s straddling me, she’s not shy about touching me. I hold her up, anchor her, and she’s holding my cock, pressing it inside all that warm perfect heat of her sex.
She slides down me, pressing against me, settling low, taking all of me and it’s fucking perfection. She’s perfection: her ivory skin, her high breasts, her nipples puckered and pink.
Her gaze lands on my devil tattoo and I go still, waiting for her realization of just how deep I was inside the Devils, how a part of them I was, and always will be. Her hand covers the ink and her gaze lifts to mine. “You will always be a devil.”
And there it is. Her realization. “I’ve been telling you that.”
“You’re too busy denying that part of yourself to survive it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means embrace and use it.”
I catch her hair with my fingers again, and this time I’m not gentle. She just won’t listen. She won’t stop pushing me to a place she thinks she needs to go but doesn’t. She really fucking doesn’t. “You don’t know what you’re suggesting.”
“Show me,” she says. “Let that part of you fuck me right here, right now.”
My rejection is instant. “You will never know that part of me.”
“Then I’ll never know you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Pri, and I will. I will never be the man who deserves you. You need to know that.”
“What if you already are?”
“I was him, before Waters, but I’m not the same man I was then. I won’t be him again.”
“I don’t know that man. I know this one. I want to know more, the good, the bad, and the dirty. I can handle it.”
Until she can’t, I think, but I want her to, so fucking much. My fingers relax in her hair, my hand cupping her head. And I feel her in ways I have never felt another woman and she’s burning me alive.
I know I should stop this, stop us, let her go, but right now, it feels like losing her would be cutting off a part of my own body which is crazy—I’ve only just met her. I thought I was fine with dying on those missions for Walker. Now I want to live. And part of me wants to punish her for making us both want what we can’t have. This will end. We will end.
My mouth slants over hers, and I’m kissing her, drinking her in and I don’t hold back and neither does she. Our tongues connect, stroke, battle. I can taste her demand. She wants what I won’t give. She wants me to fuck her like the devil I am. And I could. I could so easily demand everything and expect her to give it to me. I could take her in ways she’s never been taken. And then she’d prove me right. She’d prove she can’t handle that part of me.
