Baddest Bad Boys(92)

Colin grabbed her arms, jerked her forward against his chest. “So this whole time, you’ve been playing with me.”

The sharp edge of his canines gleamed behind his lips. “No, Colin, it’s not like that—”

“You’ve been looking into my head and seeing how much I want you?”

“Colin, no, I—” Seeing how much I want you. Had he really just said that?

His cheeks flushed. “While I tried to play the dumb-ass gentleman.”

Since when?

“Well, screw that.” His lips were right over hers, his fingers tight on her arms. “If you’ve been in my head, then you know what I want to do to you.”

Uh, no, she didn’t. Her shields had been firmly in place with him all day. Her heart was pounding so fast now, the dull drumming filled her ears. She licked her lips, tried once more to tell him the truth. “It’s not like that—”

Too late. His mouth claimed hers, swallowing her words and igniting the hungry desire she’d been trying so hard to fight.

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A few minutes later the doorbell rang and Irene didn’t move. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she wouldn’t answer the door. She dealt with enough people during the day, she’d be damned if her nights would be filled with the idiots as well.

The doorbell went off again, followed by knocking. Irene didn’t even flinch. In a few more minutes she would shut everything out but the work in front of her. A skill she’d developed over the years. Sometimes Jackie would literally have to shake her or punch her in the head to get her attention.

But Irene hadn’t slipped into that “zone” yet and she could easily hear someone sniffing at her door. She looked up from her paperwork as Van Holtz snarled from the other side, “I know you’re in there, Conridge. I can smell you.”

Eeew.

“Go away,” she called back. “I’m busy.”

The knocking turned to outright banging. “Open this goddamn door!”

Annoyed but resigned the man wouldn’t leave, Irene put her paperwork on the couch and walked across the room. She pulled open the door and ignored the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach at seeing the man standing there in a dark gray sweater, jeans, and sneakers. She knew few men who made casual wear look anything but.

“What?”

She watched as his eyes moved over her, from the droopy sweat socks on her feet, past the worn cotton shorts and the paint-splattered T-shirt that spoke of a horrid experience trying to paint the hallway the previous year, straight up to her hastily created ponytail. He swallowed and muttered, “Goddammit,” before pushing his way into her house.

“We need to talk,” he said by way of greeting.

“Why?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I said why do we need to talk? As far as I’m concerned there’s nothing that needs to be said.”

“I need to kiss you.”

Now Irene frowned. “Why?”

“Must you always ask why?”

“When people come to me with things that don’t make sense…yes.”

“Just let me kiss you and then I’ll leave.”

“Do you know how many germs are in the human mouth? I’d be better off kissing an open sewer grate.”

Why did she have to make this so difficult? He hated being here. Hated having to come here at all. Yet he had something to prove and goddammit, he’d prove it or die trying.

But how dare she look so goddamn cute! He’d never known this Irene Conridge existed. He’d only seen her in those boxy business suits or a gown that he’d bet money she never picked out for herself. On occasion he’d even seen her in jeans but, even then, she’d always looked pulled together and professional.

Now she looked goddamn adorable and he almost hated her for it.

“Twenty seconds of your time and I’m out of here for good. Twenty seconds and I won’t bother you ever again.”

“Why?”

Christ, again with the why.

“I need to prove to the universe that my marking you means absolutely nothing.”

“Oh, well, isn’t that nice,” she said with obvious sarcasm. “It’s nice to know you’re checking to make sure kissing me is as revolting as necessary.”

“I’m not…didn’t…” He growled. “Can we just do this please?”

“Twenty seconds and you’ll go away?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine. Just get it over with quickly. I have a lot of work to do. And the fact that you’re breathing my air annoys me beyond reason.”

Wanting this over as badly as she did, Van marched up to her, slipped his arm around her waist and yanked her close against him. They stared at each other for a long moment and then he kissed her. Just like he did Athana earlier. Only Athana had been warm and willing in his arms. Not brittle and cold like a block of ice. Irene didn’t even open her mouth.