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That scent—the one mingled with sandalwood—was the same thing I’d smelled on him. It was smoky and masculine. It reminded me of musk and expensive cigars, and I pressed my lips tightly together as a whiff of it hit me again.
It sent something in my lower belly roiling that I refused to acknowledge.
“Do you think I’d trust you to your own room when you made your desire for escape so clear?” he asked.
“You warned me of the consequences.”
“Something tells me that you aren’t motivated by consequences.”
He was right, of course. I’d made it clear that I planned to leave at the first opportunity—which was obviously not my real plan. He had no idea that I was precisely where I wanted to be.
“Get out,” I demanded, pointing to the door.
“Of my own room?” His chuckle sent something sinister and lustful through me. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on lingering long.”
He lifted his arm and swiftly removed his T-shirt. He balled it and tossed it expertly into a wooden basket across the room. My eyes lingered on the bare expanse of his rippling back. He clearly spent a lot of time working on his physique if he looked likethat.
His hands dipped to his pants, and I shook myself out of the trance. “Don’t.”
He looked over his shoulder, stepping toward another door across the room. He kicked it open, revealing a large, open bathroom. The smirk that played on his lips both teased and tempted me, so I clamped my mouth shut.
Shit, I really needed to pull it together.
Dante Guerra was a monster.
He killed innocent people. He facilitated the destruction of families. He tried to kill my stepfather dozens of times.
He was amonster.
Despite it all, he was also the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and we both knew it.
Fate had a warped sense of humor.
“I’m washing the blood off me. You’re welcome to join,” he offered.
I huffed and took a step away. He had blood covering the front of his pants, that I hadn’t noticed. I’d been covered in blood so many times in my life—both mine and other people’s—that it didn’t feel like an oddity anymore.
But the “innocent” girl who stumbled upon the crime scene wouldn’t be desensitized to blood.
She’d be terrified.
I took a slight step back and allowed my lips to part and my eyes to widen.
He chuckled and turned back toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his pants and allowing them to drop. I watched in awe as his boxer briefs hugged every curve of his ass.
It didn’t matter that I hated him. I still wondered what I’d see if he turned back to face me. I bit my lip as he strode into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked behind him.
Now was my chance to hide the shiv. I could freely move around his room without worrying about him catching me. But I couldn’t drag my eyes from the crack in the door.
The shower started, and I heard his briefs fall to the ground.
I heard him step into the standing shower.
My eyes remained fixed on the door until steam bellowed into the bedroom. Only then did I peel my eyes away from it and quickly look around the room for some place to hide the shiv.
Since there wasn’t much time to rummage around his things, I settled on tucking it inside of the box spring after cutting a hole in the thin sheet of fabric stapled onto the top of it. Once I had the mattress pulled back into place and the blankets on top of the bed situated again, I turned towards the clothes he’d thrown on the floor.
His wallet was tucked inside of his pant’s pocket, easily accessed like the cocky son of a bitch he was.
