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I want it, too. I need it. Need to ruck up her dirty skirt, rip off her panties and bang this horny little angel until she’s satisfied. God, that would make me such a bastard. She’s under the false impression that I’m a good man. Doesn’t she realize why I was in her home in the first place?
As if overcome from the act of kissing, she collapses into me, breathing hard into the side of my neck. “Fawn…”
“Where are you taking me?” Her head lifts, hopeful eyes searching mine. “Your home?”
“My home,” I repeat dazedly. “No. I’m…”
“We’re taking you to the boss,” Grim says without turning to face us. “You’re collateral, honey. Ain’t you listening?”
“Shut your mouth,” I bellow, snapping my arm straight and leveling the gun at him once again. “I’m taking her to my place.”
Grim snorts. “You think we can return empty-handed? Frank might spare you. You’re too valuable. But me? He’ll put a bullet in my head before I walk through the front door.”
Fawn tugs on the collar of my shirt. “Why does he keep saying I’m collateral?”
Despite the situation, I love her ignoring Grim and asking me for the explanation. I love the total trust in her eyes, the loyalty. The way she regards me like…like I’m her Daddy and I have all the answers. Oh Jesus, am I already fucked? Am I really going to ruin this girl’s life to keep her in mine?
No. No, I can’t.
Steeling myself as much as possible against the need to soothe her, I deliver the harsh truth. She needs to hear it. She needs to know the truth about me. “Your father owed a debt to my boss and he couldn’t pay it. I was there, in your home, to end his miserable life.” Acid boils in my stomach. “You’re a placeholder for the money. Until he can come up with it.”
Which he never will. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But I can’t imagine she won’t be long gone by then.
Fawn rears back slightly, as if she’s been slapped. “I thought…I just thought you were there to rescue me.”
“I’m not a hero from your stories, all right?” I rasp, wanting to die.
Wanting to be her hero so badly, my heart is beating in my mouth.
For long moments, she can only study me, as if trying to read my mind. Can she? I swear, she’s looking right into my soul. Can she see it’s too black for someone so pure? “Well,” she murmurs unsteadily. “Joke is on you. My father doesn’t care enough about me to try and get me back. He’s probably grateful I’ve been taken off his hands.”
“That’s because he’s a goddamn fool,” I half shout.
“What does that make you? You don’t want me, either.”
I press our foreheads together, growling. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Her body begins to tremble. But not in fear. With desire. Keeping eye contact with me, she tugs down the bodice of her dress, exposing her tits to me and the bayou. “Prove it.”
Chapter Four
Fawn
For some reason, Benny is determined to make me believe the worst about him. Maybe I should. Maybe I should take a look at this man holding a gun and threatening the lives of others so casually and believe what he’s saying. Maybe I would if I couldn’t sense the turmoil in him. If he didn’t look me in the eye and essentially tell me he wants me, but he’s not good enough. If I hadn’t watched him for countless hours in the woods tending to sick animals.
This man is not what he seems.
Whereas my father is a bad man on a bad path, Benny is a good man on a bad path.
That’s what my instincts are telling me. The way he looks at me, like I might be his salvation but he’s not selfish enough to take it, only makes me want him more. Only makes me want to climb inside of his mind and calm the chaos.
And my body, well…it hungers for him like it has been starved to the brink of death.
Benny is obviously under the impression that I’ve never been around other males before. Of course I have. I haven’t spent my whole life chained in the basement. I know what people consider “classically handsome” and I also know Benny is not that. But I’ve never been interested in the handsome boys. They’re too charming. Deceptive. Used to getting their way. I wouldn’t touch one of them with a ten-foot pole.
Benny is the only one who has ever made me wet between my legs.
He’s the man I picture in the role of hero as I read my notebooks.
My heart tells me there is a gentle giant under this façade of violence—and I’m determined to peel back the layers until I reach it.
Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I pull down the neckline of my dress and offer him a view of my breasts. Are they pleasing to him? I have no idea—
