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“If it isn’t the bride.” Quinn lets out a low whistle when I push through the doors, and I can’t ignore the shudder of pleasure that ripples through me.
Not that I really care what he thinks of my dress or makeup or hair.
For all I know, he’s just playing his part. Because, like I told Boris, I don’t trust him.
I can’t trust anyone anymore.
“Check this out.” He holds out a gold ring with two dice on it. “You need a ring. I need a ring. It’s Vegas. What do you think?”
But I can’t tear my gaze away from him. I absently move my hand up to his slicked-back black hair, smoothing it over the shell of his ear. “You look so different.”
He was gorgeous before, but now? He’s pure sex wrapped in darkness and Tom Ford.
“You like.” It’s not a question but a statement. Because I very clearly like. There’s absolutely no way to camouflage the like.
“It’ll do.” I can barely squeak out the words. When I realize my hand is still touching his hair, I drop it like my fingertips just got singed by the heat radiating off him. Sweat bubbles burst and drizzle down my back.
He flashes a lazy, sexy as hell grin, and leans one elbow on the top of the display case. “Yeah. You definitely like.”
I clear my throat and take a step backward to breathe clear air instead of the lust-infused stuff surrounding him. “I just came out here to say that…”
My voice trails off.
Why did I come out here again?
Thoughts fizzle like a bottle of sparkling water left uncapped for too long.
A thrumming pulse hammers against my neck. Think, think!
“I just wanted to let you know that we’re, ah, starting. So… you know…” I shrug. “Maybe come inside so we can get this over with?”
He moves closer to me, his spicy musk floating in the air around me, making me dizzy with confusion and curiosity. I drag his scent into my lungs, letting it infuse me with the promise held in his glittering eyes. They swirl with heat and desire, white-hot sparks melting me from the inside out.
I reach out to grab the edge of the display case, steadying myself since my damn knees have morphed into Jell-O.
I’m a trained killer, for Pete’s sake. I don’t do bullshit romance novels anymore.
So why do I feel like I just traveled back to a time way before I plunged into this assassin life, a time when I was a starry-eyed preteen who couldn’t wait to meet her Prince freaking Charming?
“Yeah, I’m all for that.” Quinn’s lips lift. “Because it just gets us closer to the wedding night. And after all the talk about shackles, balls, and chains, I have a lot of ideas about how this night is gonna go.”
My jaw drops for the second time in less than ten minutes.
I should be horrified. Disgusted. Offended.
But instead, I melt at his suggestive words.
Tie me up, pin me down…
And I was worried abouthimcompromising this whole mission?
Oh my God, I’m so screwed.
Chapter10
Quinn
Ican’t take my eyes off her.
