Page 16 of Untamed Sinner

I fold my arms over my chest. “I can ask him.”

“I’m sure a man like Thomas Ashford will be delighted to tell you the truth,” she retorts.

Point taken.

“Hendricks, I’ve been trying to get close to him for years,” she continues. “Now he’s finally opened the door and I’m not letting you slam it shut because you’ve developed a conscience.”

I frown. “That isn’t what this is.”

“Of course not.” Her mouth twitches. “Five days. We figure out why he hired you, if Ashford is connected to Turner, and who the girl in the notebook is. Then you deliver me exactly where he wants me.”

Absolutely fucking not. “Five days, but you stay with me.”

Her eyes narrow. "What? Why? You don't trust me?"

I know better than to admit I don’t want to see her hurt. "Not any more than you trust me."

A slow smile curves her lips.

It does something to me—it makes my blood run hot and my control slip another notch. My cock stirs, and I know if she looks down, she’ll see its outline under my slacks.

Part of me wants her to see it. The other part remembers who she is. Three years inside a trafficking network changes the way a person reads touch and desire. I know better than to mistake attraction for consent. The last thing I want is to become is another man who takes her choice away.

I force myself to hold my ground instead of closing the distance between us. “Ashford hired me to find you. That means there’s a reasonable probability he hired someone else before me or will hire someone else after me. Until I know otherwise, you’re a target.”

She bristles visibly. “I can take care of myself.”

I know that, but it’s not enough. “You stay at my house. You don’t disappear. You don’t make a move without telling me, and if we’re going to investigate Ashford together, I control operational security.”

“Control.” She rolls the word around like she’s tasting it. “There’s a surprise.”

“Those are my terms.”

We stare at each other, and the air between us crackles with something raw and unspoken. Something that's been building since before the Turner raid, since the first time we sat across the table from each other and verbally sparred, when we realized we were too alike, too damaged, too drawn to each other to ever be safe.

I’m not ready to tear it down.

“You sure this isn’t just an elaborate way to get me into your bed?”

No—getting her into my bed would be considerably simpler. “Do we have a deal?

“Yes, we do.”

The agreement comes too easily. Every negotiation has a point where someone starts lying. I have a feeling we just reached ours. "You try to run, the deal's off."

She nods. "I won't run."

"You try to kill me in my sleep⁠—"

"I won't kill you in your sleep, Hendricks." She steps even closer. There's barely six inches between us, and when her hip brushes my cock, I ruthlessly hold back a groan. I can feel the heat radiating off her body, can see the pulse beating at the base of her throat.

She smirks. "If I decide to kill you, you'll see it coming."

My fingers twitch with the absurd urge to tuck that loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Comforting."

"I think so." She flashed that knowing smirk. “So you going to tell me your first name?”

“Why?” I raise my brow. “You planning on screaming it?”