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"I…" She glances to her left, then her right, then wraps her arms about her waist. "I want you to fuck me, okay?"
"No."
"Eh?" She jerks her chin up. "You want me. I know you do."
"So?"
"You’re pissed because I didn’t choose to stay. Your ego is hurt. Is that it?"
"A-n-d there you are again with your pop psychology one-oh-one. I have news for you, I’ve fooled hardened army shrinks. You’re nothing in front of them."
"They don’t know you the way I do."
"Oh?" I take another long pull from the whiskey bottle, then lower it to my side.
"You know I’m right. I see you, Knight. I know you’re angry about what they did to you. I know you want revenge for what happened.”
"Oh, I had my revenge.” I crack my neck. “Adam and I killed those bastards before we escaped.”
She pales, then seems to get hold of herself, "You may have k-killed them, but you don’t seem any happier.”
I tighten my fingers around the neck of the bottle. "It gave me the satisfaction of knowing I made them pay.”
“And yet, you act as if you’re still at war. You’re on edge. You prefer to stay on your own. You avoid your friends and family. It’s as if you never returned from wherever you were being held.”
“Oh, I’m very aware that I returned. I made it out alive… But the rest of my team didn’t.” I set my jaw. “I don’t deserve to be here when they aren’t.”
"Why can’t you focus on the positive? You got out. Adam got out. There must be a reason for it."
I tilt my head. "Look at you. As usual, spouting your optimism and sunshine and hopefulness. I’d normally find it cute, but right now, you’re getting on my nerves."
"You’re happy I returned."
"Do I look happy to you?" I laugh, and the sound is hollow.
"You look"—she searches my features—"lonely."
"And you’re the one who’s going to soothe my brow and tell me I’m not."
"You’re not… for tonight." She reaches for her coat and pushes it off her shoulders.
"You don’t really want to do this," I growl.
She smiles, then bends and grabs the hem of her dress. In one swoop, she yanks it up and over her head. She flings it aside and stands clad in her bra, which barely contains her breasts, and a tiny thong, with a crotch that reveals the shadowy outline of her slit. The blood drains to my groin. I’m instantly so hard, the pain in my balls beats in tandem to the pain that pulses up from my injured knuckles.
I drag my gaze down her fleshy thighs, her shapely calves, her delicate ankles encircled by the straps of her three-inch high stilettos. By the time I raise my gaze back to her face, she’s flushed. Her lips are parted. Her color is so high, her dilated blue eyes are pools of desire that beckon me to dive into them, to drown myself in them. In her. To forget, for one night, what happened to me. To remember the man I once was.
"Last chance," I snap.
She pulls down the strap of her bra over one shoulder.
"Stop."
25
Penny
"Keep them on."
