Page 45 of The Brit


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“How are you settling in?” Danny’s tone is rough, magnetic, but I keep my eyes on my own in the mirror.

“You mean in my prison?”

“Quite a luxurious prison, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“Pretty it up all you like. I’m here against my will, and that makes this my prison.” I’m done tying my hair, so I start fussing with the ponytail for a continued distraction.

“You trying to look nice for me?” he asks, a certain humor to his tone that has my hands faltering for a split second before I yank out the tie and start all over again. What the hell am I going to do? How do I play this horrific game? Like I’d normally play would be the obvious answer, but Danny Black isn’t like my normal targets. Not for the first time in my adult life, I’m in up to my neck. But unlike all those other times, the rules of the game are blurring. I’ve been told to do what it takes to get the information Nox wants. What will it take?

I jump a little, startled from my thoughts, when his palm wraps around my wrist, halting my mindless hair-tying task. Our gazes collide in the mirror. Our touching skin sizzles. My poor brain could explode with the mixture of conflicting thoughts currently holding my body hostage. “I’m sorry about your father,” I say without thought.

“Are you? Have you lost a parent?”

I very nearly blurt out that I have no parents. But I stop myself in the nick of time, remembering that he has my other cell phone, and there are many convincing messages from my mom on it. “My father.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny murmurs, relaxing his grip on my wrist and lowering it to my side. Releasing me, he takes the tie from my hand and moves in close behind me. I watch him silently as he carefully and meticulously gathers my hair into his big palms and fixes it in a ponytail.

My insides turn and swirl and jolt. Seduce him. That’s all I have to do. Blow his mind and loosen his lips. Gain his trust. I’m an expert at all those things. It’s all I have to do to get out of this mess.

I slowly turn to face him, looking up into his pale blue eyes as my hands lift to the waist of his jeans. He doesn’t stop me, just stands quietly—deathly still—watching me as I pop the first button of his fly. Seduce him. My hand skims his flat stomach, the hairs tickling me. I pull in air nervously, moving to the next button. My mouth is dry, my swallows thick, every nerve I have thrumming. The next button. His astute eyes darken, his hands still motionless by his sides. The next button. I have to clear my blurring vision, and Danny subtly bites down on his bottom lip.

Our eyes still locked, I take the sides of his jeans, pushing them down over the swell of his ass. His skin is fire. His eyes are wild. His lips are calling me. And then he licks them, taking one small step into me, closing the space, silently telling me to kiss him. This kiss is going to be the death of me. Literally.

I reach up on my tiptoes and slide my hand into the front of his boxers, my fingers skimming the hard, taut flesh of his erection. Our lips meet. Just touch, and my hand circles his thick girth. I inhale sharply. This isn’t the first time I’ve touched him so intimately. I know he’s well endowed. But a faint breathy gasp still escapes, and Danny swallows it down. “You don’t want to do this,” he says against my lips, his arm circling my lower back.

“I do.” I so do. Even with a million strands of guilt and doubt blitzing my head, I know I really want this. I need this.

His mouth leaves mine, his palm moving from my back to my wrist and seizing it harshly. “No, you don’t.” Pulling my hand from his boxers, he steps back, breaking all contact, his eyes paling again. Icy. “Every time we’re close or touch, I can feel your lust crawling all over my skin,” he says quietly. “But just then, all I felt was fear. You’re scared.”

I look away. “You’re the Angel-faced Assassin. Of course I’m scared.”

He takes my jaw harshly, pressing the tips of his fingers into my flesh. “You’re not scared of me. You’re scared because you really, really want me to fuck you. Hard. Ruthlessly.” A wicked smile ghosts his lips. “And that fear I can feel is because you know you’ll love every second,” he finishes on a whisper.

I pull myself free and push myself back into the vanity unit. “I need to take a shower,” I tell him, desperate to get him out of the bathroom so I can compose myself and rethink my approach.

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