Page 20 of Fixed Asset

She did not.

I turned and left the room without dignifying her asinine statement. If she’d had cover or backup, I wouldn’t have been able to snatch her off the street. If the CIA had a man close, she wouldn’t, right now, be sitting in a house two hundred and eighty kilometers from where she’d been taken.

The last hour had done nothing to touch my anger. Not the two-mile run I’d taken around the block to blow off steam, which also provided a good cover to surveil the neighborhood. The beautiful mountains behind the house did nothing to quiet the voices in my head. My shower proved frustrating when visions of Catarina joining me—naked, wet, and soapy—filled my mind.

Every damn thing revolved around the frustrating woman.

I opened the door to the bathroom, and speak of the devil. There she was, sitting on the side of the bed with her bare feet up on the wood frame and her hands in her lap, looking deceptively innocent.

“Now’s not a good time.”

I stopped at what I hoped was a safe distance and tightened the towel around my waist.

It was like I hadn’t spoken. She didn’t move—not her gaze from my bare chest, not her legs to take her out of the room, not a muscle.

“Catarina.” I growled her name, unable to keep my impatience in check.

I needed her to leave before what was left of my control slipped.

Her eyes flew up along with her hands, palms facing me in surrender.

“I’m not here to argue.”

That was unlikely. I wouldn’t’ve been surprised if her middle name was Scrappy, the way she loved to squabble.

“You need to leave.”

She pushed to her feet and took a step in my direction. I took a step back, which put me in the doorway.

“Please, Jack. We need to talk.”

The woman didn’t possess an ounce of self-preservation, but I knew she had situational awareness. How she thought now was a good time was lost on me.

“For the love of God, Catarina, just once pull up whatever survival instincts you have, recognize the danger, and get the hell out.”

Her eyes turned squinty, and she advanced.

“I’m in no danger from you.”

Was she crazy?

Scratch that—asked and answered with a resounding hell yes.

“Catarina.”

“Jack.”

My cock twitched.

“You need to leave now.”

“We need to talk.”

I sucked in a breath, grabbed ahold of what was left of my restraint—which was now limited to holding my body perfectly still—and warned, “If you stay in this room, we won’t be talking.”

I saw the hunger bloom in her eyes, and the corresponding tremble—no, that wasn’t a tremble, it was a full-body quake that made my dick weep with need. I was two seconds away from snapping and not above pleading.

“Please, I’m begging, Cat, stop fucking around and get out.”