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"Unless?" She swallows.
"Unless youaskedme to hurt you." I press my wet T-shirt to her throat with a light touch.
Her breath catches.
"Unless you want me to give you a hand-necklace…" I curl my fingers lightly around the nape of her neck and she shivers. "But that’ll be when you ask me for it."
"I can buy my own jewelry, thank you very much," she scoffs.
"Not this one, you can’t." I lower my wet T-shirt and survey the skin about her throat. "It’ll fade soon enough."Unlike my feelings for her.A-n-d, that’s my cue to back off. "Come on, I have some ointment that’ll help it heal faster."
I walk away from her, tossing my T-shirt onto the counter on the way out. By the time I’ve snatched up the tube of salve from my kit, she’s seated on the bed. I sink down next to her and push her hair over her shoulder. She swallows, her breath uneven. She’s trying not to stare, but her gaze keeps wandering to my chest. She must notice the tattoo over my heart, but she doesn’t ask about it. Instead, her gaze slides down my abs.
I know I’m in good shape. An offshoot of my daily exercise regime from my NHL days, not to mention, my time with the Royal Marines. It’s something I kept up during the time I worked in professional security. Once I realized I was going to take on the role of Captain, I upped the intensity. I’ve lost a little weight since I left the NHL, but I’ll make up for that with the new dietary regimen I’ve adopted. All of which means, I’m in better shape now than when I was playing for the NHL the first time. I smear some of the liniment on her skin, and a shiver runs up her body.
"You cold?"
"A little." I take in the swell of her breasts bared by the neckline of her kimono. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed her state of undress, but seeing the imprints of my fingers on her had pushed everything else out of my head. That burn of possessiveness in my guts, the intensity of needing to own her, to stake my claim over her—all of it had taken me by surprise. I don’t want to acknowledge these new feelings and yet—they feel so right.
I raise my gaze to hers to find her features are flushed, her lips parted. The air between us thrums with awareness, the honeysuckle scent of her seems to sink into the depths of my soul. I lean in, and so does she. She glances down at my mouth and swallows. And I know then, if I kiss her, there’s no looking back.
If I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll throw her down on the bed and fuck her until neither of us can think straight, and that—would be a mistake. I need to keep this relationship between us professional. That’s what we are, teammates. And partners in a role-play that’ll benefit the both of us. Besides, I gave her my word I wouldn’t sleep with her—and my word is something I value too much to go back on. I rise to my feet and walk past her and into the closet. I pull on a fresh T-shirt, then walk back to her and hand her my jersey. "Put it on."
"Why should I?"
"You’re cold; this will keep you warm."
She accepts it without argument and slips it on. It dwarfs her, not that it covers her shapeliness. Her tits are so firm, her nipples thrust out against the fabric. I gesture to her, and when she holds out her arm, I roll up the sleeve for her, then on the other, before I sink down on my haunches. I take her much smaller palms in mine. "I’m sorry I hurt you. If anything had happened to you, I would have never forgiven myself.”
She swallows. The air between us thickens. My pulse begins to race. I want to lean in and kiss her, shape her features with my fingers and memorize them. My fingers itch, and if I look into her eyes any longer, I won’t be able to stop myself.
"Let’s get some rest."
I pretend not to notice the disappointment on her face and throw myself back onto my temporary bed. Fucking hell. Tearing myself away from her when I wanted to kiss her then bury myself inside her is the hardest thing I've done in my life. Harder than watching friends killed in action. Harder than walking away from the NHL. Harder than swallowing my pride and joining the security agency and taking on assignments as a bodyguard. Harder than this goddamn floor I’m trying to sleep on. “Trying” being the operative word here.
I roll over on my side, keeping my back to her, fold my arm across my chest, close my eyes and count backward from ten, but every part of me is focused on the woman who’s lying on the bed not two feet away from me. The light clicks off. I can hear her soft breaths, feel her presence; every cell in my body is tuned into her and—
"You can share the bed with me," she says in a small voice.
Not if I want to keep my promise to you, I can’t.
When I don’t reply, she huffs out a breath. "I know you can hear me, so why don’t you get into bed? It’s big enough for both of us, and if we each keep to our sides, it should be fine."
"I used to pride myself on my self-control, but with you, I’m not so sure," I growl.
There's silence for a moment before she says, "What if I want you to lose your self-control?"
21
Gio
I did not say that. I can't believe I said that. Shit. I said that. Out loud.
"You’re tired." He pauses. "Get some rest."
I freeze.Did he turn me down?He turned me down. Heat flushes my cheeks. I tell him I want him to fuck me… And what does he do? He goes to sleep.
"I can hear you thinking," he says in the darkness.
