Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games #2)(35)

“We’ve already been over this.”

“Let’s go over it again.”

After a long, tense interval, I say, “No.”

His arms unfold. He takes a step toward me. I take a step back.

“Why not?” he asks, and his voice is velvet darkness.

My heart begins to beat faster. I’m not afraid of him; it’s his intensity that’s getting to me. His proximity. The way I can recall with perfect clarity how he sounds when he comes.

I moisten my lips. “Because it’s none of your business.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. It stops him dead in his tracks with a look of incredulity on his face. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

My ears go scalding hot. “We had a deal. One night, remember? One night to get it out of our systems, and then we’d never mention it again.”

He softly corrects me, “One night and one morning.”

The way he’s looking at me makes my nipples hard and sends a rush of heat between my legs. I can’t help it, my body responds to this man like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. I’m an addict, he’s a needle full of heroin, and even though I know I’m not supposed to want it, I do.

He must see something in my expression, because his dark, dark eyes turn an even deeper shade of black. He takes another step toward me.

“Connor,” I warn, backing up.

“Yes, Tabitha?”

“I’m going to touch you everywhere, Tabitha. Anywhere I want, anywhere it pleases me.”

The way he says my full name, the deeply sexual tone of it, sends my heart racing. I retreat another step until my back comes in contact with the door.

Connor advances. Lifting his arms, he sets his palms flat against the door on either side of my head. He leans in close to my face. “You were about to say something.”

“You said we were both professionals.” I try to keep my voice stern, but fail. The words are a breathy whisper, more come closer than stay away.

“We are. And I’m asking—from one professional to another—what your relationship to S?ren Killgaard was so I can then determine how much satisfaction I’m going to get from putting the bastard in prison.”

He’s betraying himself. A moment ago, he said it was about compromising the job. I’m amazed to find myself reaching up to touch his face. He stills when my fingers come in contact with his skin. His breathing goes ragged. I see the pulse pounding in his throat.

In a shaking voice, I tell him the truth. “I was the only person who ever told him no, and he punished me for it.”

His hand covers mine. If I’m not imagining it, his tone is hopeful. “You weren’t in love with him?”

I want to laugh. Or maybe vomit. “Love? There are things much stronger than love, Connor.”

His eyes glow with emotion. “I thought nothing was stronger than love.”

Unthinking, I blurt, “Fear. Hate. Self-loathing. The way your own mind can betray you if it’s left alone in the dark for too long.”

Connor takes my face in his hands and gazes down at me, his brows pulled together, a look of something like fury darkening his face. “What the hell did he do to you?”

Flooded with shame, I close my eyes. I whisper, “He held up a mirror to my soul and showed me what it looked like.”

After a while, Connor says, “Open your eyes.”

I obey him and stand there helplessly shaking, feeling as if my heart is exposed, dangling out of my chest.

“Let’s put aside the question of S?ren for the moment. I want to make a new deal.”

I can’t speak. I can hardly even breathe. I wait, my nerves standing on end like a million screaming exclamation points.

“Let’s extend the one night to one week.”

My breath leaves my chest in an expulsive rush. He makes it sound so rational. So businesslike. So simple, when it’s anything but.

“You said you didn’t mix business with pleasure. Ever.” I take no joy in turning his words back at him, but it has to be said.

“I did say that,” he admits, nodding. “Because I never have before. But in this case, I’m willing to bend my rules.”

His thumbs gently stroke over my burning cheeks. Why does he have to do that, be so distractingly tender when I’m trying to concentrate on all the reasons why what he’s asking for is insane?

“It’s a terrible idea,” I say. “It will be too much of a distraction.”

“I’m aware.”

He’s aware but obviously doesn’t care. His face is getting closer to mine. I’m beginning to feel a little desperate.

“I’m not sure I like you.”

His lips curve. Faint amusement is reflected in his eyes. “I’m not sure I trust you.”

Touché.

I put my hand flat on his chest and push. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it,” he repeats slowly.

“Connor. We’re in a women’s bathroom—”

“You’d prefer the men’s?”

“I’m exhausted, hungry, and wrestling with some very dark personal demons. All while standing ten feet away from a row of toilets. It’s hardly conducive to romance.”