Entice - Dyken Rachel Van (библиотека книг бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

“Aw, now you’re just trying to butter me up.” I released her chin and pulled her body against mine. The contact was hot — soothing to my very core. She tried to push against me, but I had her body locked with my arms. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What? Now that Nixon’s gone, are you going to threaten me too?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Just the opposite.”

“Opposite? So you plan on showering me with compliments?”

“Hell, yeah.” My lips grazed her ear. “I plan on showering you with lots of things. Compliments, gifts, affection, a kick-ass gun—”

She relaxed against my chest, but only slightly. One exhale. She gave me one exhale.

“But most of all… I plan on giving you something you need more than air right now.”

“How would you know what I need?” Her voice pleaded; it was the type of tone you hear people use when they hate admitting weakness but secretly hope to God you’ll agree to be their strength.

“Reassurance.” I nipped her ear and moved my lips down her neck, twirling pieces of dark hair with my left hand while my right held her tight against me. “Mil…”

She stiffened, then relaxed, then stiffened again. Taming her was like trying to steal a cheetah from the wild and expecting it not to eat you.

“You. Are. Safe.” I couldn’t stop kissing her neck. It was like a drug. Shit, I felt like one of those crazy vampires that stare at people’s veins. I watched blood pulse at the base of her neck, and I wanted to touch it with my tongue. I wanted to see what it would feel like — to taste what made her heart beat, to touch the location that gave her life.

I kissed her again.

Her body slumped against mine.

My hands shook as I pulled back and cupped her face so that her mouth was inches from mine. What the hell was wrong with me?

Her eyes hooded as she locked her gaze on my lips.

“Tell me what you want,” I whispered, hoping, praying, begging it would align with what I wanted. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t conjuring up images of Trace. Mil’s body trembled beneath my touch.

“I think,” she whispered. “That a shower would be a good idea.”

“Alright.” I didn’t release her.

Mil didn’t move either.

A knock at the door jolted us apart from one another like we were teenagers just about to do the deed under the watchful eyes of a parent.

I held my finger to my lips as I grabbed my gun, took off the safety, and bent down to look through the peephole.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened the door.

Sergio handed me a bottle of whiskey. “Figured you might need this tonight. Everything’s been taken care of, enjoy your… festivities.”

“Wow, worse choice of words a person could come up with.”

“Yeah, well.” He tried to peer past me, but I moved so he couldn’t see Mil. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m married. Fun and me don’t really fit in the same sentence anymore. Now go bother someone else.”

With a salute, Sergio turned on his heel and thrust his hands in his pockets, whistling the entire way to the elevator.

I shut the door and leaned against it.

“Who was it?” Mil asked.

“No one.”

“Oh.” Her voice was quiet. “I’ll just take a shower then.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” she half yelled.

Why the hell did she sound so dejected and upset? I turned around just in time to see her half-naked form as she walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Chapter Thirteen

Mil

I gripped the countertop, allowing each finger to push into the porcelain sink as I got my breathing under control.

What the hell had I been thinking?

One moment of weakness. That was all it had taken. Actually, that was a lie. It had been a moment of weakness paired with Chase’s green eyes, his maddening touch, and his ability to both make me feel comforted and wanted all in the same mind-numbing breath.

A moment of pure insanity had washed over me. I’d taken off my shirt. I hadn’t been thinking — all I’d wanted was for him to see all of me, accept all of me, push our past behind us, and power through toward whatever the hell my family had planned for me.

I’d panicked when he didn’t turn around.

He had to have seen me. There was a mirror near the door. He’d looked up, directly at me, or at least it looked like he had. And his face, God, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over the look on his face.

It hadn’t been lust.

Or love.

It had been absolute torture. The lines around his eyes had suddenly seemed so much more pronounced than I’d realized. He’d looked old. He hadn’t looked carefree — he’d just looked, pissed.

And he’d been looking right at me.

Angry, I’d run back into the bathroom. He could yell my name until his voice went hoarse; no way was I coming back out until I was fully clothed and ready to face him.

“Mil!” Chase pounded on the door. “Open the damn door!”

“I’m just going to take a shower,” I said in a detached voice. “Like you said.”

“Mil…” He growled then pounded against the door again. “I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.” I shivered as I started the water in the shower and waited for his apology.

It didn’t come.

The water was already starting to get hot. Steam began to fill the room, causing the mirror to turn a whitish gray.

“Chase?” I called out.

Sighing impatiently, I cracked open the door. Which is apparently all the bastard needed to stick his boot in the small space and push it the rest of the way open.

“You always were too curious for your own good.” He smirked, letting himself in the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I backed away from him until the backs of my calves touched the cool tub. I was trapped. Heck, I could be in Russia, and I’d still feel trapped by his magnetism.

“Mil.” Chase’s eyes zeroed in on my face, quite impressive, considering I was, at that point, still clad in only my bra and underwear.

“Chase, did you need something? I’m kind of busy.” I shrugged him off, trying to appear unaffected as his tattered shirt clung to his muscled chest.

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I did. I do.”

“Well?” I wish I could say that my voice didn’t sound breathless — expectant, turned on. Crap.

“You don’t run out on me.”

My eyes widened. “You’re upset because I—”

“Threw a damn temper tantrum,” Chase finished. “I don’t have time for it. I don’t have time to placate your delicate feminine sensibilities. I think we should establish some rules in this relationship.”

I was about five seconds from attacking him with my bare hands.

“Rules?” I licked my lips. “What kind of rules? Play fair? Don’t lie? Don’t cheat? Don’t go to bed angry? Those types of things?”

“Nah.” Chase shortened the distance between us. I could smell his cologne as it mixed with the heavy steam in the bathroom. My knees weakened.

His hands braced my arms as he held me in front of him. “Rules, Mil.”

“Rules,” I repeated, trying to sound totally unaffected — which should seriously earn me points. Chase Winter was a god. Sweat began to trickle down his temple, and I swear all I wanted to do was smack the crap out of his gorgeous face and then catch the sweat with my tongue. I shivered.

“Cold?” His eyes mocked as they crinkled at the edges in smug humor.

“Nah, just irritated,” I fired back.

“Well, that makes two of us.” He didn’t remove his hands. I shivered again. Damn, treacherous body.

“You’re not allowed to feel,” Chase whispered. “Neither of us can afford that luxury for now. We have people most likely coming after not only you, but me. You can’t throw a shit fit every minute you’re upset or every time something doesn’t go your way—”

“I did not—”

“You did,” Chase confirmed. “No running away.”

“I would never run.”

“You want to run so damn bad you can’t even think straight,” he whispered. “And I can’t be worried about you running when I’m supposed to be protecting you.”