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“Tell me.”
He lets out a breath of a laugh. “It’s a delay. That’s all.”
“So why can’t we find an alternative?”
Silence.
He doesn’t appease me anymore. He just ignores me as those dark blue irises drag me in.
“Cole?”
His jaw tenses. “Because you don’t have a passport.”
Oh.
I let the information sink deep, the ropes of claustrophobia pulling tight.
I’m the one keeping us captive. Luca and Cole could leave, but I’d have to stay.
“It’s okay.” He steps closer, his protection bearing down on me as he glides a hand through the soaked mess of my hair. “Like I said before, Luther will take his time stewing over what happened. We’ll still be long gone before he decides to make any sort of move to reconcile his actions.”
“What if he doesn’t want to reconcile? What if he looks into the day we left the States and finds out I came willingly?”
“Then he’ll have evidence I used the same tactics he does when abducting women.” His touch lowers to my cheek, his thumb wiping away the water droplets. “It’s always been his strategy to entice women abroad with offers they can’t refuse. I did the exact same.”
Yes, he did. He lured me with the promise of justice, and now the concept seems laughable. But none of that dissolves the threat.
“I need a weapon.” My voice breaks, my words raspy and weak. “I want a gun.”
His thumb continues to stroke my cheek, his comfort sinking marrow-deep. “A gun won’t help—”
“Cole, please.” I place my hand over his and rise to my feet, standing naked before him. “If I’d had a way to defend myself earlier, I never would’ve been attacked.”
“No, you never would’ve been attacked if I’d put you on the jet like I promised.” He steps closer, the shower spray beating down on his shirt and clinging to his skin. “I don’t know how you did it, but you found a way to make me buckle to your demands. That hasn’t happened to me before. And it can never happen again. From now on, I’ll do what’s necessary to protect you, despite your protests.”
“I don’t want to be protected. I need to be able to look after myself.”
“I know. I’ve figured you out enough to see you don’t like relying on anyone. Not a partner, or friends, or relatives.” His hands find my hips, his palms sliding over my waist to my back and pulling me close. “My little fox is a solitary predator.”
All my pain and fear dismantles under his touch. The heat from the shower becomes nothing against the burn of his contact.
“I’ll get you a gun.” He glides his hands lower, cups my ass, and drags me forward, stomach to stomach. “I’ll unlock the knives and chemicals, and anything else I tried to keep away from you, too. I’ll make sure you feel safe.”
There’s no room for relief. The hard length of his cock against my abdomen becomes my only focus.
He wants me. Despite his earlier refusal, he needs the co
“I thought we weren’t doing this,” I whisper.
“Doing what?”
I close my eyes and shake away the doubt.
I’m not the only one consumed by attraction. I can’t be. “You want me, Cole, even though you denied me earlier.”
“I denied us both. And that was when I only had to pack our things and get you on the jet. Now we’re stuck here, I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you when it’s all I can think about.”
“But what about your speech on this being panic-driven, and a repeat of our first drunken disaster?”
He leans closer, his lips a breath away. “I never said it was a drunken disaster.” He lifts me, carrying me backward until the kiss of cool tile brings relief to my smoldering skin. “And you should know my morality is flimsy at best. Those excuses were for you, not me.”
He grazes his stubble against my cheek as he speaks into my ear. “They’re still valid, though. You fucked me once because you were drunk. And this time, the lust is due to survival instinct. It’s up to you whether you succumb.”
I already have.
I need him.
Not out of spite or retribution. Not even due to pure lust.
I want him because I’ve never experienced hunger for common ground with such ravenous ferocity as I do right now. I’ve never felt this mindless co
I want more.
I want everything.
The yearning is emotional as well as physical.
“I’m not succumbing.” I cling to his shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist. “I’m taking what I need.”
He pulls back, gri
“Because you picked the wrong side.” I glide my hands to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with restrained patience.
One… Two… Three.
I run my fingers over the mass of exposed muscles.
Four… Five… Six.
I slide the material from his shoulders to fall into a sodden heap on the tile. He lets me look my fill, my fingers learning the grooves of his muscles, my nails scraping the softness of his skin.
He’s so gorgeous.
Utterly perfect.
Attraction intoxicates me. I’m consumed with a thickening pulse of anticipation, the beats growing longer, the vibration humming through my limbs.
“Why are we doing this?” I meet his gaze and search for answers I may never find.
“I explained before. For you, this is survival instinct.”
He’s wrong.
Survival instinct wouldn’t have me scrambling to glimpse the future in the hopes we might be together. Survival instinct would be focused on the here and now. Not on my fears of this possibly being our last time together.
“And you?” I whisper over the ache in my throat. “Why are you doing this?”
He holds me steady with his hips and weaves those large hands down my sides, his thumbs brushing the curve of my breasts, then lower, all the way to the inside of my thighs.
“Because I can.” He inches those thumbs closer to my sex, inspiring tingles. “And because I have no choice.” He parts my folds, the slide exquisite in its softness. “You’ve become the only drug I crave.”
I feel the same way.
It’s all I feel.
“Then let’s make the most of the chaos.” I reach for his belt and fumble with the clasp.
“Here.” He grabs my wrists and places them on his shoulders. “Let me do it.”
He glides his hands to my hips and steps back, helping me to stand before he makes quick work of his belt and zipper. I can’t drag my gaze away as he shoves his pants and underwear to the floor, allowing his cock to escape the confinement.
Every inch of him is hard, none more so than the brag-worthy length pointing between us. He’s thick, the veins bulging along his shaft making me salivate.
I want him inside me. I want to have him filling me.
But first I need to taste him.
I fall to my knees, the shower’s spray caressing my back as I run my hands around his hips to clasp his ass.
“Niss.”
I ignore his attempt at a protest and give his length a tentative swipe with my tongue.
“Shit.”
I press my lips to his shaft and smile, loving the sound of his struggle.
His thighs clench with every lick I tease along his cock. A sharp breath escapes him with every swipe across his sensitive head.
I never considered how euphoric it would be to turn such a powerful man into a panting mess. But I’m drunk on his pleasure, my bruises no longer existing, my emotional scars fading to a distant memory.