Page 88 of The Code of You

"Now you’re mine,” he whispered. His hand closed around my throat. "I’ve waited twelve hours.”

My pulse hammered against his fingers. "Neo . . .”

"Did you think I’d forgotten?” He pressed lightly. "I never forget. Every second on that plane, every minute in the car, I was planning what I’d do to you.” His other hand moved under my shirt. "And now we’re finally alone.” He paused. "No one will hear you.”

My whole body tightened. I had also been waiting twelve hours, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself. My stomach tightened in rhythm with my racing heartbeat. His hand at my throat should have sent me into panic. Instead, I pressed my thighs together, searching for friction that might ease the burning.

What was wrong with me? But the question faded under the wave of want that rolled over me. My nipples hardened, pressing against the fabric of my bra. "Please,” I whispered, not knowing what I was asking for.

"First you shower. I want you clean. Fresh. Ready for what comes next.”

"Now?” My voice came out hoarse. After all the tension, the buildup, the burning want . . . he was sending me to shower? Oh . . . This was part of his game. He wanted to make me wait longer.

"Now.” He stepped back and released me. The sudden absence of his hands was almost painful. "And, Pandora . . .” His gaze drilled into me. "Leave the door open.”

He wanted to watch. Of course he did. My legs trembled as I stood. "I could say no,” I whispered, even though we both knew I wouldn’t.

"You could.” He stood. "But you want to please me. You want to be ready for me. Clean. As I commanded.”

Damn him. He was right. I walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs. The tiles were cold under my feet. I turned on the water. It took forever to warm up. My hands were shaking as I undressed. I knew he was watching, felt his gaze like a physical touch. The waiting, the preparation, it was just another form of torture. And my body only wanted him more because of it.

I let the water run over me and rinsed away the strain of the past few days. I stayed under the water until my skin turned red from the heat.

"Get dressed,” he said, moving toward the door. "I’ll get something to drink from the car.”

I stood there naked and dripping. My bag was still in the other room, but his T-shirt was draped over the chair. On impulse I reached for it. It smelled of him, electrical and dangerous. When I pulled it on it reached mid-thigh.

I went to the kitchen and opened the drawers. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Tea to calm my nerves? Something to eat for the hunger that had nothing to do with food?

"Pandora.” His voice rumbled low in his chest. I startled. He was standing in the doorway. His eyes moved over my body. "You’re wearing my T-shirt,” he said through gritted teeth.

Chapter 23

Neo

She was wearing my shirt. The sight hit me like an electric shock. It hung loose on her body, reaching mid-thigh. The neckline was too wide for her, slipping off one shoulder, exposing her collarbone. Her legs were bare beneath it, light making patterns across her skin.

I saw differently than humans did. Not just the curves or the skin. I saw the symmetry of her movements, the mathematical precision of her proportions. The way light reflected off her cheekbones at an exact 49-degree angle.

But there was more. Something that couldn’t be calculated. The tiny asymmetry of her smile. The chaotic rhythm of her breathing. The way she unconsciously chewed her thumbnail when she was nervous. The beautiful flaws that made her human fascinated me.

She leaned forward to set down her cup. The shirt rode up, revealing more of her thighs. For a second, I caught the edge of her underwear. Heat shot through my body. Everything in me screamed, She is mine.

Her muscles tensed. "I . . . I didn’t have anything else to wear,” she stammered.

I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. "You don’t understand.” My voice sounded rough, foreign to me. "You’re wearing my shirt.” The words vibrated through my body. Mine. The word tasted of power.

"It’s just a T-shirt, Neo.”

Just a T-shirt? Something dark woke in me. "No.” I took one step toward her. My sensors registered her accelerating heartbeat, the sweet scent of her arousal. She was wet. I could smell it. But I could also smell her fear. And it made my blood rush to my cock. It pressed almost painfully against my trousers. "It means you belong to me.”

Her eyes widened. I registered the pupil dilation, the skin flush, the minimal muscle tension. There was fear in her expression. The same as yesterday, when I had killed the mercenary. Her eyes widening as my hands closed around his throat. The way she’d trembled from shock and relief. It had made me so fucking hard.

She had been right: it gave me pleasure to kill. The satisfying crack of his neck. The moment the light left his eyes. The absolute power over life and death. I was no hero. I was a predator that had hunted down its prey. And it had aroused me. The surge had moved through my entire body. Like now, with her in front of me.

"Now just wait . . .” Fear made her voice shake.

"Shh.” I pressed my finger to her lips. "Let me explain.” My hands lifted and found the hem of the shirt. "My T-shirt. My woman. My rules.”