Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(47)

She says, “My idea of a mob boss is that they put contracts out on their enemies, and run drug, weapons, and prostitution rings. Is that what you do?”

Her gaze is unflinching.

I feel a warm flicker of pride. She really will make an excellent attorney.

“No.”

She stares at me, weighing the truth of my answer. “I feel like this might be a semantics issue. Let me rephrase. Is that what you have other people do for you?”

Goddamn. She’s going to make an amazing attorney.

Why that should make my dick hard, I don’t know.

“I don’t get my hands dirty anymore.”

“Meaning?” She waits for an explanation with one eyebrow lifted.

I drop my head and inhale against her neck, drawing the scent of her skin into my nose. When I press a soft kiss against her collarbone, she shivers. My dick grows harder.

“A CEO is concerned with the big picture. Growth. Market share. Streamlining operations to maximize profitability. He doesn’t stock shelves or make deliveries.”

“You make it sound so corporate.”

“It is.”

When I lift my head and gaze down at her, she winds her arms around my shoulders and looks into my eyes. She says quietly, “That’s not all, though, is it?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

She tilts her head, letting her gaze drift over my face before she answers. When she does, her tone is thoughtful. “There’s something else you’re not telling me. There are bigger secrets you keep.”

I freeze. My heart stops pumping. My blood turns to ice in my veins.

Her eyes sharpen. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Calm down. She doesn’t know anything. “I told you—the less you know the better. End of conversation.”

“If you think this is the end of the conversation, you don’t know me at all.”

Damn those piercing green eyes. The woman sees everything.

I roll off her and sit on the edge of the bed.

She sits up, too, but she’s not looking at my face anymore. She’s looking at my bare back.

“Liam,” she whispers. “God. What happened to you?”

Life tried to kill me, but I didn’t die.

I only wish I did.

She’ll need some kind of explanation to satisfy her curiosity, but I’ll be damned if I’ll share all my ugly stories of how I got from point A to point B. It would make her sick. And it would take too long, anyway. And it doesn’t really matter.

I am what I am, no matter how I got this way.

My voice comes out flat. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“Oh, believe me, what I’m feeling for you right now isn’t pity.”

Her voice has an edge to it. When I glance at her, she skewers me with a look.

She says, “You were just inside me. That means I get to ask questions, and you get to answer them. What you don’t get to do is shut me out and act like I’m irritating you with my concern.”

I’ve never met a woman such equal parts salty and sweet.

I spend a brief moment wondering if a wolf and a lion could be happy as mates, but quash that ridiculous thought as quickly as it came.

“If I don’t answer a question of yours, it’s because knowing the answer would make you less safe. Add that together with the fact that I won’t to lie to you just to make you feel better, and you have me staying silent more than you’ll like.”

We stare at each other. I can tell she’s not happy with that explanation, but she’ll accept it. Grudgingly.

If my erection gets any harder, it will split a seam in my pants.

Holding her gaze, I say softly, “Now lie down and spread your legs.”

There’s a long, crackling moment as she decides whether or not she’s going to obey my command. Our held gazes burn like a lit fuse. Impatience claws at me.

“If you don’t do as I tell you, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass until it’s red.”

Her eyes flare in outrage. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Now she’s even angrier, but she’s turned on, too. She likes the idea.

She likes it as much as she hates me for suggesting it.

When she licks her lips, I almost snap and lunge at her. But I hold myself in check and wait, gritting my teeth against the urge.

I’m right at the edge of my self-control when she lies back against the mattress in one fluid motion and stretches her arms out over her head.

I look at her, breathing shallowly and watching me with wary eyes, her knees pulled up and squeezed together, her hair spilling all over the silk duvet cover, her bare skin smooth and gleaming, and I feel a jolt of possessiveness far darker and more powerful than anything I’ve felt for her before.

She’s my match.

The yang to my yin. The light to my darkness.

She’s what I didn’t know I’d been missing all these years: a soft place to fall.

“You’re beautiful.”

My voice is a harsh rasp in the quiet room. My blood rushes through my veins like wildfire. Heat must be curling off my skin like smoke.

She looks at my face and sees everything, like she always has. In a soft, teasing voice, she says, “I like you, too, wolfie. Take off your pants.”