Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(16)

“Did you not see the note that said she’d implicate my father, too, if I did that?”

“No. I didn’t see it.”

He reaches for the folder but I grab his arm. “I believe you. I don’t want to see it.”

“I need to get into that unit.”

I repeat my thoughts. “Desperate people operate with no limits.”

“Desperate? I guess you could say I am. If she does this, she’ll get me, and everyone I care about, killed. She thinks this is a fun game.”

“She let her personal belongings be sold off. That isn’t a fun game. And why do that if she’s alive and well?”

“Good question. One I have to get answered.”

“Give me a reason I can accept that doesn’t include her in a body bag.”

He looks at the ceiling, studying it like one might a person’s face, searching for the answers that I want from him. “My biggest fear,” he says, looking at me, “is that she sold her little plot to someone who’s far more dangerous, and after far more money. You say desperation makes people act without limits. I say greed makes people operate without limits.”

“Or fear of losing your wealth?”

“I could win more money. I’m good, baby. I’m damn good. And I have investments that are going to keep paying off. I don’t know how to convince you I’m honest, but it’s my father I care about here. I won’t let a man who’s my damn hero be taken down by this bitch.”

“And Stephanie knows this?”

“I had one night with this woman, but I’ve made it clear in every press piece I do who made me the man I am.”

“I want to help, but—”

“Don’t say but.” He turns me and leans me against the desk, his hands bracing the surface on either side of me, but he is no longer touching me. “What do you need to convince you to help me?”

“I don’t know, but I wish you’d figure it out.”

“Me f*cking too.”

“I’m not saying no.”

“But you’re not saying yes, either.”

“Not yet. This is . . . a lot to take in. You’re a lot to take in.”

“You’re not so small yourself.”

I lick my suddenly dry lips, his gaze following. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“Me, either.” He stares down at me for a long moment, the air crackling with tension, thickening, shifting, and then spiking to a sizzle. Suddenly, his hand is back in my hair, and he’s molding me close. “Tell me to kiss you, Skye.”

“No,” I whisper. “No. I won’t. You really are trouble and I’m smart enough to know that.”

He lifts me and sets me on the desk and somehow my legs are spread, and he’s between them, his hands framing my face. “Ask me to kiss you, Skye.”

That raw quality is in his voice again, a desperation, a need for escape that I understand and know. It resonates deep in my soul, and I know this is why I came with him. I sensed this connection. I sensed that we both know a monster calmed by one of only two things: escape or denial. I handle that beast by denial. He handles it with escape—which is probably what he was doing with Stephanie, and with who knows how many other women. I don’t want to be another one of them.

But it’s been so long since I let anyone touch me, since I touched anyone else, and right now escape might be exactly what I need. And escaping with a stranger I never have to face again, who I won’t matter to past this day, is the ultimate escape. Maybe, just maybe, Trouble’s escape plan is better than my perpetual denial. Maybe it’s time I try it his way.

But I do not ask him to kiss me. If I’m doing this, it’s on my terms. I am going to be in charge. I am going to be the one who claims my own actions and reactions.

I lean in and press my lips to his.





CHAPTER FIVE


WITH MY MOUTH pressed to Jason’s deliciously sensual mouth, I am so out of the realm of who I am that my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I need to do this, I silently remind myself. I need to hold true to my vow that no man will ever take my power again. Not this one or any one. Not for sex or any other reason. But as my lips linger on his and seconds tick by in which he does nothing, self-doubt sprouts within me and begins to grow at lightning speed. Jason has all but proclaimed himself a player outside the game of poker. If he intends to play me and insists I “ask” him to kiss me as he’s ordered, then Trouble will find trouble. Suddenly, insecurity morphs into panic and I try to withdraw from the kiss.

At the same moment, Jason moves as well, his hand cradling the back of my head, and his mouth slants over mine. I moan as his tongue presses past my lips and strokes into my mouth in a velvety caress that I feel in every part of my body, liquid heat gathering between my thighs. The taste of him, of hot demand mixed with what I think might be the lingering spice of cinnamon and coffee, bleeds into my mouth and washes away my insecurity. There is only desire and a wild burn to feel Jason closer, and I reach for his T-shirt and tug it upward.

Jason captures my wrist, his steely stare meeting mine. “Let’s be clear. This is only here and now. I don’t do commitments.”

The last thing I need is someone to look at my past or find the real me. He won’t take the time to care and his words are the freedom—the escape—I crave almost as much as him. “Promise?”