Her gaze flicks over my face, searching. “And did you?”
“Mmm,” I hum, impatient as I press my hips against hers, letting her feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “I’ve been off the clock a long time, doctor. Let’s move on.”
“Grayson—” she breathes, pushing at my chest, but it’s half-hearted. “The FBI are watching me. They can just show up here at any time. I’m not safe.”
I stare down at her, at the strain in her features, the fear behind her eyes. She’s serious. She’s afraid for me. With a gentle touch, I brush my finger along her cheek. “If they like to watch, we should give them a show.”
Defiance sparks in her eyes. Dr. Noble doesn’t back down from a dare.
“I see you,” I whisper against her lips. “I could feel your pain fucking miles away. I know what you need.” I sweep my tongue over bottom lip before I slant my mouth over hers.
She moans into the kiss, turning it urgent, as we drown out the fear, the threats, the pain—all of it dissolving in the heat of one kiss.
She’s the only thing that makes the compulsions quiet—a still reed in the eye of my storm.
And fuck, she kisses me back with a bruising demand that steals my breath. Every muscle coils tight as I cage her body with mine, desperate for more.
There’s no give between us. Only take.
We’re feeding off each other—starved, unrepentant.
I pin her wrists to the glass, stealing her control. The same way she hates to love me—but I’m her own sick compulsion, the sick need that drives her.
She bites into the kiss and draws blood. The sting sparks a surge of desire, liquid fire pouring through my veins. Pain and pleasure wrestle for dominance, each feeding the other.
She turns her face and gasps for air, breaking the kiss, but not the need.
“Stop,” she says through a ragged breath. “You have to go.”
Anger flares, as hot and violent as my need for her. “Is this London talking, or Lydia?”
Her body stills as her gaze meets mine, burning with fury. She wrenches her wrists free and shoves me aside. The loss of her touch is immediate agony.
Without a word, she turns and steps into the dark therapy room, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Where did you get the uniform, Grayson?”
Ironic. The good doctor using avoidance.
I lean against the wall at the end of the gallery, tracking her quick movements as she switches on a lamp. “The guards leave them in their lockers overnight,” I say as I start to unbutton the shirt. “Figured no one would question a security officer roaming the building.” I tug off the uniform shirt and toss it on the writing desk, then I untuck the white T-shirt from my slacks. “But that’s not what you’re asking.”
She faces me, features tight. “Considering the last time you stole a uniform?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’m asking if anyone in my building was harmed.”
“Are you truly concerned, or are you just worried about an investigation that could connect you.”
She inhales a deep breath, her chest rising. “You know that would be unwise.”
She’s right, of course. My behavior is borderline Neanderthal. I could whip my dick out and start marking myterritory and it wouldn’t shock her. She’s assessing me right now, anticipating my next move.
I start toward her. “I didn’t harm anyone,” I tell her, which isn’t a lie. Lawson is still alive and intact.
She nods. “You have to find a way to alert me, to let me know…” She trails off with a huff of frustration. “It’s not fair that you know where I am at any given moment, and I have no idea where you are.”
I stop short of reaching her. There it is, the root of her anger. It brings a crooked smile to my face. “Being on the run gets tedious. Makes for a dull romance.” I push the patient chair aside and kick the rug away, revealing the floor manacle. “Do you want me to take a seat so you can dig around in my mind. Get your doctor rocks off.”
She’s not amused. “I just want a head’s up, Grayson. I don’t like surprises.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Like our agent friend gives you? He’s so well behaved, isn’t he?”
I can almost feel her defenses raise. “You’re being hostile,” she accuses.
